by B. B. Hamel
“Good. I can try too. No promises though. Because I do want to drag you into my bedroom and fuck your warm, tight cunt until you’re begging me not to stop.”
“You’re breaking the truce right now, you know.”
I laughed and looked away, taking a deep breath to calm my hammering heart. “Okay,” I said. “One more thing.”
“What?”
“A little present for you.” I reached into my pocket and dug out the phone, holding it out for her.
She took it tentatively. “What is this?”
“It’s a prototype phone that Valor is working on.”
“I didn’t know you guys were making a phone.”
“Nobody does. This is the second one in existence.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded. “Seriously. I want you to test it out for me.”
“I thought this was a gift.”
“It is a gift. You can control the whole house through that phone.” I paused for a second. “It’s also insurance for you.”
“How?”
“If shit goes wrong, sell that phone.”
She laughed. “One phone won’t be enough to cover the damage you cause.”
“If you play your cards right, I bet you can get at least fifty grand for it. Probably more if you get a few tech blogs bidding on it.”
“Wait, seriously?”
I nodded, standing up. “Seriously. Like I said, it’s only the second one in existence. The tech media is going to want to get a hold of that pretty badly.”
“And you’re just giving it to me?”
“Like I said, it’s a gift and it’s insurance.” I turned and started walking away.
“Carter.”
I paused and looked back at her.
She smiled at me. “Thanks.”
“Sure. Just try not to lose it.”
I turned and headed off, wondering how long I was going to be able to keep this truce. Probably a few hours at most.
5
Emily
Maybe I was too hard on Carter.
The phone thing seemed like a big deal. I did some quick Googling later on and found out that prototype phones like the one he gave me could sell for serious cash, just like he said. But more than that, a leaked prototype could totally wreck a company’s plans and cost them millions.
The phone wasn’t just insurance. It was also a promise. Carter was serious about all of this, or at least serious enough to gamble big money and bad press.
He was probably already gambling bad press, but still. That night, I found myself on the couch, fiddling with all of the functions on the phone.
He wasn’t kidding. I really could control most of the house with the phone. I could lock my doors, turn on the stove, even start the ice maker in the freezer. I could control the TV if I wanted to. It was actually pretty amazing that all of these things were connected up and easily accessed through a single phone. There was all the normal functionality built into it like apps and all that, and it felt pretty cool to hold, but the real impressive part was the home control aspect.
As I started to dig deeper into the phone, a message popped up on the screen.
“Enjoying yourself?”
I squinted at it for a second then responded. “So far it’s not too bad. Did you give this to me just so that you could text me?”
“Maybe.”
“What do you want, Carter?”
“I was just wondering if you were ready to call me daddy yet.”
I groaned, leaning back into the comfortable and stylish couch. I wasn’t sure when this joke was going to get old, although there was part of me that didn’t want it to. My heart did start beating fast in my chest every time he was near me and especially when he made it clear what he wanted to do to me.
He was arrogant and an ass, but he was sexy as all hell. I couldn’t deny that. Plus, he was smart, probably a genius, and that was hard to ignore. He may have been a playboy asshole, but he was still successful and powerful.
“No, thank you,” I typed back.
“Come meet up with me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re curious. I promise I have the best of intentions.”
I knew that was a lie, but he was right. I was curious.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in my favorite spot in the house. I’ll send you the location on your phone.”
A second later, a little screen popped up with a map of the house. On the map was a little red dot marked “You” and a little blue dot marked “Carter.” I was surprised to see the blue dot move in circles around the room it was in.
“Did you see it move?” he asked me.
“Holy crap. It’s like the Marauder’s Map!”
“Solid Harry Potter reference.”
“Thank you.”
“It is a lot like that,” he typed back. “You can turn off the option to show your location in real time, if you want. I’ll show you how when you get here.”
“Who said I’m coming?”
“You’re coming.”
I bit my lip and sighed. He had me interested, and I was pretty bored anyway. I was just sitting around looking at my phone. I wanted to see what his favorite room in the house was like anyway, and so I stood and headed out.
I guessed it was going to be some Fifty Shades shit. Maybe a sex dungeon with swings, big dildos, all kinds of BDSM equipment. I was ready to run away as fast as I could as I rounded the corner and found the door to the room he was in.
I pulled it open slowly, expecting the worst.
Instead, I heard music.
“Hey,” he said, “Come in.”
I stepped into the room and looked around. The walls were covered in bookshelves, but instead of books, they held records. There was a bar along one wall, a fireplace burning wood in the middle of another, plus chairs and tables all over the place. Carter was leaning against the bar, and in front of him was a turntable spinning a record.
“This is really cool,” I blurted out despite myself.
“Thanks.” He motioned for me to join him. I walked over as he went around behind the bar. “Want something?”
“Sure,” I said. “Surprise me.”
He nodded and went to work as I looked around some more. I didn’t recognize the music that was playing, but the sleeve said it was by a band called The Cinematic Orchestra. It was like jazzy hip-hop without the lyrics, and although it was a little weird, I actually liked it.
“You don’t strike me as the jazz type,” I said.
He laughed. “Jazz is pretentious as fuck. But it helps me think.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I come in here when I have some work to get done but can’t concentrate anywhere else.”
“So am I interrupting your work?”
“Not anymore,” he said. “I finished up a little bit ago.” He handed me a glass. I took it from him and sipped it, surprised. It was delicious, fresh and sweet.
“What is this?” I asked.
“A secret recipe,” he said. “It’s mostly gin, though.”
I laughed and took another sip. He came around the bar and leaned against a stool as I looked around the room, idly leafing through the records. He had thousands of records in there from all different artists, from Snoop Dogg to Bruce Springsteen. It was actually pretty impressive and amazing.
“When did you start collecting all these?” I asked him.
“A long time ago,” he said. “I have way too many now.”
“It’s amazing. I mean, I never got into the whole vinyl thing, but this is cool.”
“Thanks. It’s an impractical hobby, but I love it anyway.”
“I never would have guessed you were the type of guy to collect records.”
He grinned at me. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. You have all these tattoos. You have a reputation.”
“What do tattoos and reputations have to do with music?”
“I don’t know,” I repeated, frustrated. I felt like I put my foot in my mouth as he laughed and sipped his drink.
“I get what you’re saying. But I’m just a person like everyone else. You’re into music?”
I shrugged. “No more than anyone else. I like whatever’s on the radio.”
“Here, take a listen to this.” He took the jazz record off the turntable, putting it back into its sleeve, and picked out another record. He put that one on and spun it.
“It’s an old Bowie record. Didn’t get a lot of love back in the day.”
“What’s it called?”
“Hours,” he said. “He made it as a video game soundtrack in the nineties.”
I laughed. “Nineties Bowie is the worst.”
“No way. That’s the best Bowie.”
As I looked through the records, Carter came up behind me. I pulled one out and flipped it over, looking at it.
“That’s a good choice,” he said.
“What is it?”
“Bernard Fevre. It’s an old electronic disco album.”
“Is it good?”
“Not really,” he said, laughing. “Let’s put it on.”
We spent the next half hour picking through records, listening to a song or two, and then putting a new record on. I quickly forgot that I disliked this guy Carter, and that he was my stepfather, and instead just enjoyed myself. He was funny and charming, and he seemed to know a lot about the records we were listening to.
Finally, we ended up on a small couch against one wall near the fireplace listening to Lorde’s most recent album.
“You know,” I said, “it’s a little ironic that you have this album. This song is all about how normal people will never be rich and famous like the royals.”
“What’s so ironic about that?”
“You’re rich and famous,” I pointed out.
“I wasn’t always.” He shrugged. “I don’t discriminate.”
“Neither do I, which is why I’m hanging out with mister rich and spoiled.”
He laughed. “Okay, fine, fair enough.”
“This house is incredible, you know.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He leaned toward me and I felt my heart starting to beat faster.
“It’s more like a resort than a house,” I said quickly, looking away from him. I couldn’t get any ideas, even though I was already imagining what it would be like to kiss his attractive mouth, to let his hands roam my body.
“We have a lot of guests. This place is rarely empty.”
“Don’t like to be alone?”
“No,” he said, coming closer. “I like to be alone. Except when the company is worth being around.”
I looked into his intense gaze for a second and shook my head. “Carter,” I said.
“What?”
“I thought we had a truce.”
He grinned huge. “I guess I broke it already.”
I could see what he wanted clearly in his eyes. He was looking at my body like a starving man, hungry for my skin. Truthfully, I didn’t mind it one bit, and wanted him to come closer. I wanted to feel his lips against me, his hands on my hips, on my ass. I wanted him to take me the way I knew that he could.
Except he was my stepfather, and that was so messed up.
As he came nearer, his phone suddenly started ringing. Frowning at it for a second, he stood up quickly and walked away, answering.
I couldn’t hear what he said, but his expression quickly got serious. He said something and nodded a few times before hanging up. He turned to me, an apologetic smile on his face. “I have to go,” he said.
“Okay.” I stood up. “Thanks for showing me this.”
“You can stay here as long as you want,” he said. “Bar is all yours, records are all yours.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll see you later, Emily.”
I nodded, biting my lip. He turned and quickly left, and I released a pent-up breath.
I needed to be smarter than this. I couldn’t let myself be alone in a room late at night with a man like Carter. I could barely control myself and I knew that if he had made a move to kiss me, I would have let him. I wouldn’t have had the strength to stop him. I wanted him more than I cared to admit to myself, and that was a problem.
I couldn’t believe that I wanted to feel my stepfather’s cock deep inside of me.
6
Carter
The last thing I wanted to do was walk away from Emily, but apparently the world wasn’t going to conspire with me. Maybe I should have taken my bad luck as a sign that I shouldn’t be trying to fuck my stepdaughter, even though we’re not related and she’s still age appropriate, but no, that wasn’t me. Signs or no signs, I was going to try and take what I wanted and forget about everything else.
As I headed toward my head of security’s office, I kept thinking about the way Emily was looking at me. She was practically begging for me, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. I pictured my cock pressing between those pretty lips, sliding down her throat, making her gag. I bet she could suck cock like it was breathing, and I wanted to see her pretty body down on her knees in front of me, doing whatever I told her to do.
I had to stop in front of a window for a second, opening it up to breathe in the cool night air. My cock was fucking rock hard and I couldn’t go into a meeting with my head of security with a fucking hard-on. I needed to get a fucking grip.
It wasn’t like me getting all fucking crazy about some girl. I’d been with plenty of women with nice bodies, some of them models, some of them just wet and begging for it. I didn’t get my playboy reputation for no reason. But I’d never before gotten hung up on a girl like apparently I was getting hung up on Emily. I just couldn’t get her out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. She could easily be the fucking downfall of everything that I was trying to achieve, and yet I just kept picturing her down on all fours, ass in the air, dripping wet pussy begging to get fucked.
I took a few more deep breaths and counted to ten. By the time I hit zero, I was decent enough. I shut the window and quickly hurried to Cox’s office, trying not to get all fucking excited again.
I knocked once then opened the door. Cox was sitting behind his desk when I entered, looking gravely worried, which wasn’t unusual at all. Cox was in his forties, an ex Special Forces guy with a buzz cut and a bunch of tattoos. I liked him a lot, though I didn’t really know him all that well. He took his job as the head of security very seriously and did it well without any complaints, and so I paid him a ton to keep him around. Since my place constantly had so many guests and was so big, I needed full-time security like him and a few of his guys.
“How’s it going?” I asked him.
He grunted. “Fine.”
I took a seat in front of his desk. “You sounded worried over the phone. What happened?”
“We got a letter, sir.”
“Dispense with the ‘sir’ shit for one night, will you?”
He ignored me, like he always did, and produced a letter. I took it from him and slowly skimmed it as he spoke.
“Basic threatening letter, sir. We don’t usually bother you with them since we get maybe one or two every week and they never pan out. This one is different.”
“It’s specific,” I said, noticing right away.
“That’s right. It’s very specific.”
The letter said that basically they were going to bomb my office if I didn’t step down from Valor Tech. They said I had a week before the bombing would happen.
I saw a few of the crazy letters back before I hired Cox full-time. They were usually much more general about their threats. Normally it was along the lines of, “I’m going to kill you with a tire iron, you cock sucking faggot” and “Go fuck yourself, you cunt bitch, I’ll cut your throat and dance on your grave.”
People that write these letters aren’t really very nice, but they were harmless. Usually, at least. Cox checked them out if they left a nam
e and a return address, and normally they were just disgruntled rednecks looking to blame someone else for their problems. Sometimes, though, they were seriously deranged, and Cox would keep an eye on those people.
“What should we do about this?” I asked him.
“I’m passing it along to a buddy of mine in the force, sir,” he said. “Hopefully he can help.”
“You think the cops can do something you can’t?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged and didn’t look convinced. “I would avoid your office on this day, just to be safe.”
I smiled at him, handing him back the letter and standing. “Cox, I can’t let a bunch of crazy assholes dictate how I live my life.”
“Whatever you say, sir.”
“Good night. Thanks for showing me this.”
“Of course.”
I nodded and left, suddenly feeling exhausted. I’d been working on a heuristic problem around how my little AI drone was going to identify humans when I decided to see Emily. Now, I was well and truly exhausted, and realized that I wasn’t going to get any more work done.
I headed back to my wing of the house. The place was unusually quiet, since there weren’t as many guests in the house at the moment. I didn’t want to risk anything with some strangers catching me and Evelyn sleeping in separate rooms or some shit, so I figured we could empty the place out for a couple months. The house felt empty, though, which was strange.
As I got to my wing and walked down the hall, I slowed when I got to Evelyn’s room. Her door was slightly ajar and I heard her television still on. I knocked softly.
“Come in,” she called out.
I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. Evelyn smiled. “Husband,” she said.
“Wife.” I grinned and sat in an armchair at the side of the room. Evelyn was wearing glasses and reading some trashy romance novel by Willow Winters, her hair pinned up. She was an attractive woman, despite being older than I normally dated, but there was no real connection there. We were friends, or at least as close to friends as I really got.
“You’re up late, old lady,” I said.
She laughed. “Couldn’t sleep. This place is just too big.”
