by West, Lara
Mom’s dating habits have thrown me a few curveballs over the years - dickish CEO’s and politicians mostly - but this one takes the cake.
I knew her and Anna’s dad were close, good friends even. But shit… engaged? Anna must be packing it.
I take a long drag from the cigarette and blow the smoke up toward the sky. It’s completely dark now with only a few stars visible through the Brooklyn smog.
Just as I stamp the butt out, I hear the front door creak open and Anna steps out. She’s a vision of a goddess even in the half-lit porch.
“Thanks for dinner, Dad. Congratulations again to you both,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Thank you, Anna. We’ll have to catch up soon,” I hear Mom say before the door closes and Anna’s footsteps pitter patter up the garden path toward me.
I wait until just the right moment to reveal myself.
“Well well well, someone’s chirpy about the engagement,” I say, deliberately startling her.
“Jesus!” she cries out, putting a hand up to her chest. “Don’t do that.”
A light breeze blows a few strands of her auburn-brown hair across her face.
Chuckling, I push my hands down into the pockets of my suit pants. “So, we’re going to be siblings now. Kinky.”
“Don’t be gross,” she scowls.
Even in the shadows, I can tell she has her nose crinkled up. She’s clearly pissed off and not happy to see me.
And yet, why do I have the urge to reach over and pull her against me?
Why do I want to claim those pink, pouty lips again and bend her over right here, right in front of her dad’s house?
“It must be hard for you… going through life without a sense of humor,” I say with a broad grin.
She sighs with particular annoyance. “I don’t have time for this. I have a movie to see.” She shakes her head and goes to walk past me.
But I cut her off, stepping right in front of her so that her face is mere inches from mine. “You know, seeing as you’re going to be my sis soon, we really should bury the hatchet.”
Her face hardens before she takes a deep breath. “Fuck you, Lucas.”
With a stout laugh, I take one hand out of my pocket and tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Surprisingly, she doesn’t recoil.
“No need to that, Anna. After all, you’ve already been down south. And the way I remember it, from those soft, little moans of yours, you thoroughly enjoyed it. As did I.”
Her palm smacks my cheek with impressive force. Judging by the look on her face, though, I don’t know who’s more startled. Me or her.
Raising my eyebrows, I crack another smirk to provoke her. “Still have that fire I see.”
“Oh, you better believe it, dickhead.” She steps around me and walks toward her car parked in the driveway; a 2012 emerald green Volkswagen beetle.
“I think you mean boss?” I shout after her, to which her reply is a sassy flip of the bird.
Her little black dress, yellow pastel waist-cardigan and nude-colored heels make all the blood rush to my head.
Yep - I have a boner just looking at her.
When she unlocks the beetle and gets inside, she throws me a look of clear contempt and slams the door shut.
After she drives off, I realize that all my efforts to erase the memory of her, for all these years, have been futile.
So what? We had sex once when we were teenagers and we ignored each other afterward.
It’s no big deal. Except I still can’t get her out of my fucking head.
She thinks I’m the biggest jerk-off who ever walked the planet and why? Because I-
And then it hits me. The reason why she’s still so pissed off about it.
She lied to me that night… Of course, I’ve done it before, you dick.
Wow, go figure - I’m the one who popped her cherry.
No, my future stepsister’s cherry.
Holy fuck.
Chapter 5
Anna
“I don’t see how spending a week at Abigail Hartz’s beach house in The Hamptons is going to help with family bonding, Dad. Lucas and I are in our twenties. Who cares if we get along or not?”
“Abigail cares. And for that matter, so do I. We don’t want any awkwardness at family gatherings, like Thanksgiving and Christmas. Besides, you two will be working together in a few weeks. This could be a good way of getting to know each other better.”
Oh, we already know each other. Intimately.
“You really want me to do this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Dad states curtly and heaves my suitcase into the back of the metallic blue Ford Territory.
“Fine,” I sigh with an eye roll and drag my feet over to the passenger side door. “But for the record, Lucas is an asshole.”
“Language, Anna…”
“I’m not twelve, Dad…” I throw back with a snarky undertone.
“Well, you could’ve fooled me with that attitude.”
A couple of hours later, we’re surrounded by lavish mansions and cars that cost more than I make in two years, including overtime.
Abigail Hartz’s palace-sized house is one of less than a dozen oceanfront properties in Wainscott, so Dad tells me, and thus reflects architectural brilliance at a most affluent level. The White Stucco exterior appears bleak from the outside and somewhat uninviting despite its stateliness, but inside it’s a whole other story.
My eyes widen at the sheer, homely beauty of it – the professionally decorated rooms that were seemingly designed for entertaining. Maybe Dad getting hitched to this woman does have its perks after all?
“I want you to make yourself at home here, Anna,” Ms. Hartz says with a genuine smile. “All five bedrooms are upstairs and have stunning water views. You’ll be staying in the first one on the left.”
I give a sheepish smile back and excuse myself so her Dad can have some alone time.
Honestly, the way they’re ogling each other you’d think they were a pair of lustful youths.
I lug my suitcase up the white-carpeted double staircase and then pause on the landing. An enormous arched window displays the beach and ocean barely a stone’s throw away. This mansion must be worth, at least, twenty-five mil with this view.
No wonder Lucas is such a prick. Look what he grew up with.
My bedroom is a warm mix of browns, creams and baby blue tones. The queen-sized bed is creaseless with an assortment of throw pillows that probably retail as much as this ruby and pink gold ring I’m wearing – a graduation present from my parents.
Well, if this is where I’ll be staying for the week I can’t complain. It tops my room back in Brooklyn about hundred times over.
It’s a shame that Lucas will also be here. The last thing I want when I’m sprawled out on the deck working on my suntan is him walking around, shirtless. And reminding me of that foolish mistake I made in the back of Abigail’s Beamer.
Ridiculous, girly, teenage lust – that’s all it was. As if I could still have a thing for him. He’s going to be my stepbrother for heaven’s sake.
After I unpack, I decide that there’s no time like the present to get into vacation-mode. Dressed in only my favorite Dr. No white styled bikini and a towel over my shoulder, I make my way outside to the private walkway leading to the beach.
Once I hit the sand, I sit down and slather myself in tanning oil. With any luck, this time next week I’ll be browner than a coconut.
Lying back, I close my eyes against the sun; its warm rays make me instantly feel relaxed. It’s been too damn long since I’ve done this. What ever happened to the free-spirited girl who spent most of her summers on the sand and surf?
I don’t know how much time has passed, but a sudden shadow smothers the sun. No, not a shadow. Something far worse.
“Hey hot stuff,” he says, accentuating the word ‘hot.’
I quickly sit up and try to hide my cleavage that he was no doubt admiring. “Do you mind? I’m tryin
g to relax here.”
Lucas chuckles and sits down on the sand next to me. “Aw, don’t be like that. I was only teasing. You’re too easy to wind up.”
“And you make it too easy to dislike you. Immensely.”
“Come on, you don’t mean that,” he says with flirtatious eyes. “After all, you did really like me once.”
Is he hitting on me? In full view of both our parents back at the beach house? Seriously?
“Once. A long time ago. Which was a mistake. Try some other gal, Don Juan. I ain’t interested,” I reply with bite.
He laughs again and leans in closer, his shoulder touching mine. I can feel the heat radiating off him as his lips get closer.
I don’t speak or move. It’s like I’m frozen in place or under some kind of spell.
His eyes go down to my breasts and then wander back up to my lower lip. Oh, no. Don’t you dare let him do it, Anna!
When his mouth crashes down on mine, his hands find my waist and grip it tight. I want to pull away, slap him in the face again and tell him what an arrogant prick he is for kissing me, but I can’t. I’m too lost in the way his tongue is folding over mine.
His sweet spearmint breath fills my mouth, and I let out a small moan. He presses against me in response, pulling me into his chest with urgency.
Everything inside of me screams for him to fuck me. For him to rip off this bikini and take me like he did in the back of that damn Beamer.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it’s over.
He breaks the kiss and stares at me with apparent confusion, but which then morphs into another of his classic smug grins.
“I knew you still had a thing for me,” he says, winking. “It’s good to know you’re still not completely untouchable.”
Bastard.
He only kissed me to prove a point. Stupid girl, Anna. Why on earth did you just let that happen?!
“You’re a fucking jerk, you know that?” I fire at him, standing up. I shake the sand off my towel in his face. “And don’t try that again. I mean it, Lucas!”
“Oh, don’t worry, Dartmouth. That was just a one-off test,” he states with distinct annoyance, as he rubs the sand out of his eyes.
Is he serious? He just put his tongue down my throat to prove a point and he’s the one offended because I got sand on him?
Double bastard.
“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” I jeer and storm away from him, seething with rage.
I can’t fucking believe it. I let him get to me. Again. Only, this time, I should’ve known better than my past seventeen-year-old flakey self.
What is it about Lucas Hartz that I still can’t get over? He’s a dick. Period. That should be an instant turn off and yet here I am, salivating, and all butterflies over that damn kiss.
Is there something deeper to these feelings or am I just a sucker for a guy with A+++ looks, an athletic body, and a big bulge in his shorts that most girls would beg to have their cherry popped by?
Whatever it is, I need to squash it, fast. Because back there, being that close to Lucas, made me lose all sense of reason.
And if he pulls those same moves again, I’m not so sure I’ll be able to resist him.
Chapter 6
Lucas
“We’ve set the engagement party for August 9 and your uncle has kindly offered to host it at his Manhattan penthouse.”
Mom’s been talking about her wedding plans for the last hour and it’s doing my head in. Wouldn’t she rather talk to Anna about this? I couldn’t give one flying hoot about what church or what number of guests to have at the ceremony or what color scheme is “trending” right now.
I pick at the omelet in front of me that Frank whipped up. It’s not half bad, but I’m just too distracted by what happened yesterday. What was I thinking kissing Anna like that? Where did that even come from? It’s like my lust for her led me to abandon all logic.
“You know, Lucas. I was hoping you might like to give a speech for us at the engagement party,” Frank says out of nowhere, sitting opposite me at the table.
I look up at him and pray that he isn’t serious. “Come again, sir?”
“I know we haven’t known each other very long,” he continues, “but I love your mother, and all my ex-marine buddies live on the other side of the country and can only make it for the wedding. I need a bloke on my side, huh.”
“Um… I’m not sure I’m the man you want to do that sort of thing,” I say with a weak smile.
“Of course, you are,” Mom cuts in. “Please, darling. It would mean the world to me if you did it.”
She gives me that look. That helpless, manipulative, worse-than-a-sad-puppy face, which she knows I always cave in to.
With an inward sigh, I force a nod in Frank’s direction. “Sure, Frank. I’d be honored.”
“Thatta sport,” Frank says, reaching over to give me a quick slap of approval on the shoulder. “You have just over a month to prepare it. If you need help, just ask Anna. I’m sure there are a few funny stories she’d be all too happy to share. If you want to throw some humor into it, that is.”
Yeah, like that’s going to happen. Even if I want to know more about whom Frank is, as a person, which I don’t, Anna won’t tell me squat. Unless I ask her when I have my finger in that juicy, little cunt of hers.
Hell, I could ask her anything then and she’d spill the beans. I’m sure of it.
Once I polish off the rest of the omelet, I head upstairs for a quick, cold shower. The thought of fingering Miss-Perfect-Dartmouth has made me break out in a light sweat.
But just as I reach the landing, I hear a faint humming coming out of the first bedroom. Anna.
Seeing as the door is slightly ajar, I figure a stealthy peek inside shouldn’t hurt…
Anna stands over by the dresser, topless. My cock twitches.
I can see her perky tits reflected in the dresser mirror, those dark aureoles that I once had the pleasure of sucking on, over and over again as she groaned under my touch. Hmm, good times.
The curve of her back tapers down to her waist in a slimming hourglass shape, and immediately the image of her bent over, showing her sweet, supple ass to me before I mount her sears through my mind.
Fuck, I can’t believe how much I want her.
“What the hell, Lucas?!”
During my erotic meanderings, my eyes had stayed on her body. Not her face.
Now, I’ve been busted. Big time.
“I… ah… sorry,” I stammer, feeling my cheeks redden. But just as I turn to leave she calls out, “Stop.”
I gaze back at those alluring gray eyes, come-hither lips, and flawless set of tits. Keeping my stare, she walks toward me, her breasts jiggling on every step. Teasing me.
When she reaches the doorway, she leans over to whisper in my ear, “Do you like what you see, Lucas?”
My heart skips a beat as I process the words. Is this a trick question because my cock is so stiff it might pop out of my pants.
As if she’s a mind reader, she lowers her hand and presses it to my bulge. “Well, do you?”
“Oh, yes…” I pant, ready to submit to her. I’d do anything she asked right now just to have those sweet lips on my cock again.
“How much? Like on a scale of one to ten? Ten being you can barely contain your desire for me.” She runs her tongue over her lips suggestively.
Is she for real? What happened to hating me?
“It’s a solid ten, baby,” I sigh, groaning as she begins to rub my balls with the palm of her hand.
Then, like the wind has changed direction, she laughs and pushes me backward onto the landing.
“In your dreams, dickhead!”
Her bedroom slams shut in my face, leaving me not only humiliated, but with an aching tent pole threatening to explode in my sweatpants.
Fucking Anna Fitzgerald.
Perhaps I was wrong about her? Perhaps she is still untouchable and the worst damn cock tease I’ve ever come across?!
Regardless, I will have her again.
I will break down that fiery resistance of hers.
Very soon.
Chapter 7
Anna
It’s D-Day.
I’ve tried everything to calm down – meditation, running, several inhales of lavender and cedar oil – but nothing has worked.
Nothing has stopped the weird horde of butterflies going spastic in my stomach.
Why am I so freaked out?
It’s the same job, the same duties, and the same office, but just with a different director. A younger version.
And one who just happened to take my virginity…
And who kissed me two weeks ago…
Oh, and I massaged his cock and balls at his mom’s beach house too.
Yeah, what great “family bonding” The Hamptons turned out to be.
But hey, no biggie.
Happy fucking Monday.
Stepping out of the elevator, I keep my chin up and eyes focused ahead. I’ll just say a quick good morning to him, dump his coffee and bagel on his desk, and then shoot on out of there.
Easy peasy.
“Good morning, Anna,” he states as I walk into the giant all-glass office.
“Morning,” I say without glancing at him. “Here’s your long black, no sugar, and blueberry bagel. If you need anything, I’ll be at my desk.”
“Very well. Thank you, Anna. I appreciate the drop-off.” He picks up the bagel and takes a bite out of it. “Hmm, man that’s good. You sure know where to find a decent bagel.”
Okay… he’s acting rather… pleasant. That’s odd.
Very odd.
“It’s from Joe’s Diner across the street. Joe is the best,” I tell him with a quizzical look before I walk back out again and head over to my desk.
I can feel his eyes on my behind but shrug it off. Let’s face it; he is a guy after all.
When lunchtime rolls around, Lucas still hasn’t said boo to me all morning. I thought for sure he’d be ordering me around and getting me to recheck this and recheck that. All the while, enjoying every second of his authoritative position.
