Naughty but Nice: A Best Friend's Dad Christmas Romance

by Rye Hart

  If I could get him away from my dad, lower the level of tension – not to mention testosterone – he might listen to me. Maybe. There were no guarantees when it came to Carter and his pithy attitude.

  “Seriously, can I talk to my stepbrother, alone?” I asked, glaring at Brittany.

  She started to protest, but this time, Carter cut her off. “It's fine, Britt,” he said, “Just go wait by my car or something. I'll catch up with you.”

  “But – ”

  She started to argue, but Carter turned to her suddenly dark and serious, forcing the blonde to shut her mouth. She pouted, but she also obeyed Carter, slinking off down the hall without another word, slipping out the hall's front doors.

  “You sure know how to pick the winners,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Is she even eighteen, Carter?”

  “I dunno,” he asked, turning that dark look toward me, the sarcasm dripping off his tongue. “What's it to you, anyway?”

  “Well, for one thing, I'd rather you weren’t rotting in prison for statutory rape.”

  “She's twenty-one,” he said. “She's in college.”

  “Oh, is she now?” I asked, matching his level of sarcasm in my voice. “And which one of our fine community colleges does she attend? Because she sure as hell doesn't look like Stanford material to me. No offense.”

  Carter laughed, but then stopped short, returning back to his petulant state of being. He glowered at me, not saying much for a moment before he finally shrugged.

  “Hell if I know where she goes,” he said. “It's not like we've done much talking.”

  “Figured as much,” I muttered. “But really, what in the hell were you thinking, Carter? What ever made you think it was anything resembling a good idea to bring her here? You show up drunk, stoned, and with some blonde slut on your arm on the day of my dad's press conference to announce his senate run? That's really low, even for you.”

  “What's it matter? He doesn't really want me up there anyway,” Carter said. “I am, after all, the black sheep of the family. A disappointment and disgrace to your great father.”

  “You don't have to be,” I said. Carter scoffed, refusing to meet my gaze. “Nah, Vanessa, that ship sailed a long time ago,” he said. “Haven't you learned by now that I'm really not cut out for your kind of life? Nor do I really want it?”

  “My kind of life?” I asked, crossing my arms in front of me, a spike of anger flaring within me. “And what in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Kissing ass, sucking up to every Tom, Dick, and Harry just to get ahead?” he said, smirking at me. “Being so conscious of your appearance that you're dressing like an old maid from 1950.”

  “What's wrong with my dress?” I asked, looking down at my attire.

  My modest dress did hide most of my body – sleeves to my elbows, a high neckline, and a hemline falling well past my knees – but I was going to be on television, supporting my father's political ambitions. It was not the place to wear my normal clothing.

  “Nothing,” he muttered. “Listen, I'll just stay away from now on. It'll be better for everyone if I do that and leave you and your dear ol' dad to the empire you're building.”

  Carter started to walk away, and though part of me wanted him to go, I couldn't help but reach out and grab his arm. He looked at me, and for the moment, there was the old Carter looking back at me. The one I'd fallen in love with a long time ago. His eyes were soft and sincere, and there was a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “You know,” he said softly, “you could always ditch this place and we could hang out – like old times.”

  He ran a hand through his shoulder length hair and smiled at me. The breath caught in my throat and my knees grew weak as I stared into his gray eyes, admiring those luscious lips of his – soft lips that used to kiss me all over. He was built like a Greek God and he knew it. He knew damn well he could have any woman on the planet he wanted. And yet, he settled for uneducated, ignorant tramps like Brittany. It was something that never failed to surprise and sadden me.

  As I stood there looking at him, the doors behind me opened up as my father and stepmother walked out.

  “You coming, Vanessa?” my dad asked, his face stern and rigid as he pointedly ignored Carter completely.

  I still had hold of Carter's arm and his offer to me was still out there, hanging in the air between us. I could ditch this place and we could hang out, just like we used to. It was appealing; tempting. There was some small part of me that wanted to take him up on the offer; to go back in time and relive those days again. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I remembered the time we spent together. I remembered all of the long, deep talks, all the times we'd made love, all the time we'd spent just enjoying each other.

  Except, those times were long gone. Things had changed. I had changed. And I simply wasn't the girl I used to be – the girl Carter wanted me to still be. He was stuck living that adolescent lifestyle and somewhere along the line, I'd grown up.

  “I'm sorry, Carter,” I said, letting go of his arm. “Next time, please let us know in advance if you don't plan on making these events.”

  “I have a better idea,” he said, “From this point on, just count me out of these little family gatherings altogether.”

  He turned and walked out of the building, and I watched him go, a wave of sadness and regret rippling through me, until he was gone.

  “Some people don't want to be saved,” my father, standing by my side, said gently. “And some people aren't worth saving.”

  His words hit me hard, right in the gut, but maybe he was right. Perhaps Carter was long gone. Maybe he was beyond my help – not that he seemed like he wanted my help anyway. I hated to admit it to myself, but maybe it was time I realized I could no longer be my stepbrother's keeper

  ooo000ooo

  “He didn't! He really bought some blonde bimbo with him?”

  My best friend, Amy, was cackling and clapping her hands as I recounted everything that had happened with Carter earlier in the day. She knew I'd need to wind down and vent after the press conference, so we had a standing wine date – just the two of us at a wine cafe in downtown San Jose.

  “I love your stepbrother. I mean, I hate him – but I can't help but love him too,” she said. “He's such an ass, but he never ceases to amuse me, either.”

  “I'm glad someone can find all of this funny,” I muttered, staring down at my glass of Merlot.

  I'd barely taken a sip from it, even though it was my favorite. Amy was already on her second or third glass and she seemed to be having a good time at my expense. But that was one of the many reasons why I loved Amy, she brought me back to reality and kept my feet firmly on the ground. She saw the humor in everything and always forced me to lighten up.

  “You know he only brought her to annoy you, right?” she asked.

  “More like to annoy my dad,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He couldn't care less about me. Hasn't in a long time.”

  “That's bullshit and you know it, Vanessa,” Amy said. “Carter is still madly, deeply, passionately in love with you. And I think deep down somewhere in that cold, calculating, political heart of yours, you know that.”

  “I think we need to cut you off, Amy. You're obviously wasted if you believe Carter could possibly love anyone besides himself,” I said, pretending to take her glass of wine away.

  She snatched it back, holding it close and jokingly called it “my precious.”

  “Seriously though, I'm so tired of taking care of him,” I said, feeling a physical exhaustion sweeping through me. “If it wasn't for my father's career, I'd totally let him fall flat on his ass. Let the tabloids take photos of him and ruin his reputation, I don't care. But if that happens, I know that my dad's platform of being a solid family man goes straight down the drain. Which means, I have no choice but to keep playing his damn keeper.”

  “Let's face it, you could never let him fall on his ass,” Amy said, drinking the last
of her wine and looking at her empty glass longingly. “Because there's some piece of you that still hopes he'll clean up his act and come running back to you. And don't you dare deny it.”

  “I do not,” I said, sitting up stiffly. “I'm done with Carter. We're family now, and that would just be weird. Gross.”

  “You're not related by blood, Vanessa. And besides, your dad and Andrea won't be married forever. It's not like they're actually in love with each other – oops, did I say that out loud?”

  Amy liked to tease me about how the relationship between my stepmom and dad was really just a marriage of convenience; a business arrangement of sorts. My dad had the money, Andrea had the political ties thanks to her own father's long-running political career. It was a marriage that made sense on paper, and benefited the both of them.

  I always denied Amy's assertion, but deep down I knew it was truth. There were times when I saw them together in person that I could feel the chill in the air between them. I always told myself that they just weren't the lovey-dovey type. They weren't the type who engaged in a lot of PDA. I still had hope that there was love between them – even if they didn't choose to show it in public very often.

  “Anyway, changing the subject, my dad is trying to set me up with Dylan Montgomery,” I groaned. “I keep trying to tell him I'm not interested, but he won't take no for an answer. What in the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

  “Oh God. Seriously?” Amy gasped, her eyes wide. “I mean, I guess he's hot – for an old guy.”

  “He's not that old,” I chuckled. “He's only like ten years older than me, I think? He's well connected and he's helped a lot of people break into politics, so I guess that's a good thing?”

  “Sounds like you're trying to talk yourself into it,” Amy said, shaking her head. “Not a good sign, Vanessa. You'd be better off just walking away from that one. You're a smart woman. Capable. Resourceful. And you certainly don't need to sleep your way to the top.”

  “I'm not going to sleep my way to the top,” I laughed, swirling the wine around in my glass. “That's not who I am. But I guess Dylan has been asking about me. He's apparently really interested and I'd hate to let my dad down.”

  Amy reached across and took my hands in hers. “Well look on the bright side, if you do get together, it'll almost be like dating your father.”

  I tossed my napkin at her, but I was laughing along with her, despite myself.

  “You're disgusting,” I teased.

  “Hey, you're the one thinking about dating a walking Viagra ad, not me!” she cackled. “I prefer my men a little younger and more naturally vigorous, thanks.”

  “You're cut off” I said, taking her empty glass away from her. She reached for it, but this time I didn't give it back. “You're going to have to fight me for it, and let's face it, you're way too tipsy to beat me at the moment.”

  Although we were laughing and having fun – and I was feeling infinitely better after the crapfest of a day I'd had – there was still a dark, foreboding feeling running through my veins. I couldn’t help but feel like the true shitstorm was about to hit at any second.

  CHAPTER TWO - CARTER

  Brittany reached over while I was driving and stroked my cock through my pants. I looked over at her and she gave me her most sultry smile, biting her bottom lip and caressing her breast through her tight top.

  Normally, I'd have been all over something like that in a heartbeat. But after just seeing Vanessa, my mind was on other things and I wasn't really feeling it at that moment. I pulled her hand away from my crotch without a word.

  “Come on, Carter,” she purred, removing her seatbelt and inching closer to me, putting her mouth against my ear, her breath warm, her voice soft. “Let's have a little fun.”

  “Please get back in your seat,” I said, biting my tongue and avoiding the words I wanted to yell at her. “I don't need another fucking ticket.”

  “No one would give you a ticket,” she said. “Not considering who your father is.”

  “Stepfather,” I corrected her through clenched teeth. “And I'm not using his name to get out of shit. So, get back in your seat. Now.”

  Brittany huffed and flopped back in her seat, dramatically putting the seatbelt on like a petulant teenager. Now I saw why Vanessa asked if she was legal. She might be of age, but she sure as hell didn't act anything like it. Not that it was something that normally bothered me. But after everything that happened that day, I was on edge.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Carter?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, my tone cold. “I'm just not in the mood to fool around right now. Especially while I'm driving.”

  “You've been a dick ever since we left your dad's press conference.”

  “Stepdad,” I corrected her again. This was getting old.

  “Hey, where are we going?” she asked, looking out the window as I turned onto her street.

  “I'm taking you home,” I said.

  “I don't want to go home,” she said, her tone disappointed. “I want to figure out what's going on with you, Carter. See if I can make you feel better, baby.”

  “Nothing is going on with me,” I said, clenching my teeth. “And even if there was, you're not the person I'd be sharing it with.”

  “Why not?”

  I pulled up outside of her apartment complex and sat there with the car still running, pointedly looking at the door.

  “Because you're nothing but a fuckbuddy, okay? And I don't open up to fuckbuddies about my personal life. The two don't mix.”

  I tightened my hands around the steering wheel, squeezed it hard, trying to get all my rage out that way. Even I knew Brittany didn't deserve the crap I was giving her, but if she thought we'd suddenly start talking about and sharing our feelings, she was dead wrong. I liked Brittany well enough, but she wasn't somebody I'd be open to confiding in.

  “Just a fuckbuddy, huh?” Brittany shot me a coy little smile. “I'm okay with that. Now that you're stopped, what do you say we hop into the backseat and – ”

  “No,” I said. “I'm not interested anymore. You need to go.”

  “But why?” she whined. “I just want to make you feel good, baby.”

  “Because honestly, the sex was mediocre. At best. And I have no desire to experience that more than once,” I said. “And if you want the God's honest truth, I used you. You were really nothing more than a card I played to piss off my family. And now that I've accomplished that, I have no further use for you. So go ahead and get out. I promise that you'll never hear from me again.”

  “You're an asshole,” Brittany spat, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Your sister was right about you.”

  “Stepsister,” I shouted as Brittany climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

  She flipped me off as I drove away, leaving her standing on the curb behind me without even a glance back at her. Once I was alone in the car, I turned the radio up as loud as I could handle and sped down the freeway. She was right. I didn't care about getting a ticket, I just didn't want her touching me. I only wanted one woman's hands on me – Vanessa's. And God knew, that was never going to happen again.

  But once I started thinking about her, I couldn't stop. I remembered the way her strawberry blonde hair fell in waves around her shoulders and down her back, framing a soft, feminine face with large eyes and thick, delicious lips – and it was too much for me. I had to shut off those thoughts and the feelings that came with them for my own good.

  Vanessa had always been out of my league. She was the good girl in high school. The smart girl who went on to Stanford, graduating with honors. She was the woman who wore vintage style dresses and always had meticulous hair and makeup because she lived her life in the spotlight. In public, she was always well put together, had her head straight, and was the perfect, All-American girl.

  But I knew the real Vanessa. I knew her better than anyone else. I'd seen her in pajamas with no makeup on, her long hair pulled
back in a messy bun as she devoured a carton of ice cream in front of the television. And let me tell you, that woman was just as beautiful as the one the world got to see.

  Of course, I couldn't stop thinking about her. The harder I tried, the more her face floated through my mind. And my daydreams didn't stop at her beautiful face – not when she had curves that could bring a grown man to his knees. She kept in shape with her yoga, but she also didn't deny herself life's simple pleasures either. Her breasts were perky and large enough to fill my hands, her ass tight and firm. Many summers, I'd watch her sunbathing in her itty-bitty bikinis with her best friend, Amy from a safe distance. And more often than not, I'd have to take care of myself afterward because damn, she was the sexiest woman I'd ever laid eyes on. Still was.

  My dick was growing hard as I imagined her soft skin beneath my fingertips, and I yearned to feel her body against mine again. My erection was pressing against my jeans now, causing me pain and discomfort. It was so uncomfortable that I pulled over to find a parking garage. Thankfully, my windows were tinted so no one could see inside.

  I unzipped my pants and took out my cock, stroking it as I imagined slipping it inside of my stepsister's tight little pussy. Vanessa was always so tight and warm, her skin incredibly soft, and I could never get enough of her. She always smelled amazing too. I yearned to feel her touch, to smell her skin as she rode my cock. But it wasn't going to happen, so I kept stroking away as I remembered the things we used to do together.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the headrest, remembering the way her tight little ass would move up and down on me, taking me deeper and deeper inside of her as I pumped away. Fuck yes... Yes, Vanessa, yes...

  All I could see in my mind was her – see her tits bouncing as she rode me harder and harder, her moans filling my ears as I brought her ever so close to climax. I squeezed my cock tighter, imagining the spasming of her pussy as she came close to coming with my cock buried so deep inside of her.

  “Carter, yes, oh God – I'm coming!” The sound of her screaming my name would always bring me so close. I loved the sound of my name on her perfect lips, especially as I brought her pleasure. Knowing I was making her come was the sexiest thing I could fantasize about and as my imaginary Vanessa orgasmed, I felt my seed boiling up through my shaft.