by Annie Stone
“No,” his youngest mumbles.
“Hunter?”
“Anything’s better than staying in Miami,” he says.
Carter nods. “Mac?”
I give him a surprised look. “Yeah?”
“It’s your home, too. Are you okay with them moving in?” he asks.
“They’re your sons,” I say, even though I have to swallow before I finish my thought. “They’ll always be welcome here.” Deep inside, I thought it would be tough to spend ten weeks with them. But having them move in with us? It’s a whole different story. While Hunter’s about to start his last year of high school—and then he’ll be off to college or somewhere else—Carey would be with us for at least another three years.
Can I do this? It very well could be three years of hell lying ahead of me.
But, at this point, I’ll just have to wait and see.
Carter puts a hand on my shoulder and looks over at Hunter again. “If I let you move in here, I expect you to behave better than you did in Miami.”
Hunter and Carey both nod. “Promise,” they say in unison.
Carter snorts. Obviously, he doesn’t believe it. “Okay, we’ll still have to see. I’ll call your mom and let her know about your decision.”
“Awesome.” Hunter gets up. “Now, we’re out of here.”
“Be back at midnight,” Carter says.
“Dad, seriously?” Carey asks in the tone of a complete brat.
“You’re fifteen,” Carter responds.
“Hunter isn’t.”
“So Hunter can bring you back here at midnight and stay out another hour.”
“That’s totally unfair!” Carey whines.
Carter gives him a firm look. “What did you just say about good behavior?”
Carey gives him a sly smile. “You said better, not good.”
I struggle to keep a neutral face, because inside, I’m secretly applauding Carey. Carter though isn’t so impressed.
“Midnight,” he says.
“Can we take the car?” Hunter asks.
Carter nods. “Keys are on the table.”
They’re gone within a second.
“Rascals,” Carter says, sitting back down with me. He puts a hand on my leg. “Thank you, sweetie.”
“It’s your house, and they’re your sons. Of course they can move in with us.”
“It’s our house,” he corrects me gently.
I shrug. “Still.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “It’ll be different.”
“Sure.”
He looks at me. “What’s wrong?”
I’m kneading my fingers, and he zooms in on them. He knows I do this when I’m nervous, so there’s no point lying to him now. “They don’t like me,” I admit.
Carter nods slowly. “Give them some time. They’ve never seen me with another woman. Only with their mom. But it’ll be okay.” I realize then that he has no idea his sons actually know about every woman he’s ever dated.
“So, I guess they don’t have a great relationship with their mom?” I say, trying not to sound like I’m prodding.
Carter shakes his head. “Not anymore. They always did before. But then she cheated on me, and I left. She started drinking, and… I guess sometimes they still hold me responsible for it.”
I take his hand. “But it’s not your fault.”
He smiles wistfully. “I know. I couldn’t stay with her. But I’m sorry my boys got hurt.”
“You’re a great dad. They love and respect you.”
He nods. “They’ve always been my number-one priority.”
“Why did they stay with their mom?”
“It’s what they wanted. Lauren was not in a good place after the divorce, and Hunter always feels like he has to take care of people. Save them. He didn’t want to leave her alone, and Carey always does what Hunter does. I’m just glad he’s somewhat of a good role model.”
A faint smile flits across my lips. “So what trouble did they get into in Miami?”
Carter smiles. “Oh, man, they messed up a few times. Nothing serious, though. Hunter got in a few fights with his coach and had plenty of detention. And they were at a few parties that were broken up by the police. Carey was caught drunk once. I’d say it’s all pretty normal for their age. Judging by what my friends say, it could be much worse. Some kids are really out there. Hunter might be a bit of a hothead, but he’s sensible enough to make sure Carey’s always safe.”
“What if they don’t accept me?” I ask.
He strokes my hand. “It’ll be fine, sweetie. Don’t give up.”
I nod, even though I know I’m in for a rough ride.
2
Hunter
I down my beer. I think my old man is trying to fuck with me. When he told us about his new girlfriend, I thought he was talking about a woman his age. Then he goes and introduces us to this chick who looks like a high school student.
It’s a midlife crisis, definitely. And he’s got it bad. I don’t see what else it could be.
“Hunt, what do you think of Dad’s new bitch?” Carey asks, already slurring a little.
I take his beer away from him. “That’s enough for today, little brother. We don’t want to go breaking Dad’s rules the first night we’re here.”
Carey laughs. “Oh, we’ll definitely break them.”
I grin. “Sure. Just not tonight.”
“So, what about Dad’s bitch?”
I shrug. “Bit surprised she’s half his age.”
Carey gives a thoughtful nod. “What does she see in an old guy like Dad?”
“Money.”
“You think?”
I nod. “She’s young and hot. She could do better.”
“You think she’s hot?”
Fuck. Why did I let that slip? I didn’t need to tell my little brother I think our dad’s new sex doll is fuckable, and that I’m going to imagine her mouth around my cock when I jerk off tonight. I check out the girls around us. Maybe I can find one that can cure the ache in my balls…
“You know what I mean,” I say, playing it down. “She’s kind of good-looking.”
“But letting an old guy stick his dick in her makes her kind of gross.”
“I don’t want to think about Dad’s dick…”
Carey laughs. “Fair enough. Hey, the little blond one over there has been checking you out since we got here.”
“Her tits are tiny,” I say dismissively.
“Couldn’t you make an exception?”
I smile sort of smugly. “Why should I when every bitch in this room would drop her panties for me?”
“Every one of them, huh?”
With the confidence of someone who knows how damn attractive he is, I say, “Every last one of them.”
Carey searches the room. “What about that one?” He points at a pretty redhead with big tits who’s making a point of pretending not to see me. But she’d have to be blind not to see me.
I shrug, bored. “Okay. You want to bet?”
His eyes light up. “If I win, we swap rooms, so I don’t have to listen to Dad fucking his bitch every night.”
Fuck. I can’t listen to him fucking her. It would be messed up. And what’s this little dirtbag thinking, putting the stakes so high? At the same time, I feel a wave of pride coursing through me. Even at fifteen, he’s almost as cool as I am. Almost.
So, there’s no way around it. This redhead needs to spread her legs.
“Okay,” I say, “and if I win, I get to pick one that’ll finally turn you into a real man.” Wait—doesn’t that mean he wins either way? Whatever, I like the little bastard.
He grins. “No shortage of bitches here.”
“You know, I fucked my first girl when I was fourteen.”
Carey laughs. “If I remember correctly, it was more like her fucking you. And no, it is not cool that she was twenty.”
I grin. “What can I say? Mom hired you a really hot tutor.”
; “Yeah, but back then I didn’t care about her tits.”
“I did,” I say, remembering the sensation of her tits in my hands. It was the first time I got to touch any. And I’ve loved it ever since.
“Okay, it’s a bed,” Carey says, and I down the rest of my second beer. I never have more than two. Don’t want to lose control. I don’t trust people. As soon as you show them your weak spots, they start using you. I’d rather have my balls cut off than give somebody else power over me. And I love my balls.
I get up and make my way over to the redhead. When I reach her, I turn to her friend. “Hey, sweetie, want a drink?”
She beams at me and nods. She can’t believe I’m actually talking to her. She’s too fat, especially her thighs. No way I’d do her. If I didn’t want to get into her friend’s pants, I’d never even look at her.
The two women are a typical example of female friendship. A hot babe always picks uglier girlfriends so that she can really shine. The uglier her sidekick, the more beautiful she’s going to appear. What can I say? It works.
But the good thing about ugly bitches is—they’re happy about every tiny ounce of attention since, most of the time, people just overlook or even bully them. Every man knows that. If you want a really good blow job, pick an ugly girl who’s so happy she’s getting attention she’ll do anything for you. The safest bet is a fat one.
Pretty girls, on the other hand, think you’re their servant… And who has time for that? But there’s a secret trick that works with skinny bitches, too: treat them like scum. They’re not used to it, so they’ll end up getting on their knees for you, too.
The redhead gives me an irritated look. I grin and get her friend a beer from the keg. Show time.
Handing over the beer, I steer her away from the redhead, a little off to the side.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” she says, giggling. Some women can do a sexy giggle and others…can’t. This one definitely falls into the latter category, and it grates on me.
“I just moved here from Miami,” I say.
“Oh, wow, I’ve always lived here,” she says.
In my head, I start counting down from ten—the time it’s going to take for her hot friend to interrupt.
Nine.
“You always have awesome parties like this out here?” I ask, even though it’s a pretty lame party, by Fisher’s standards. This is his doing, and I know he’s thrown together better nights than this. Or maybe I’m just used to better parties now. I mean, nights in Miami were awesome. Mom was too busy spending Dad’s money on drugs and alcohol to notice Carey and I could do whatever we wanted. We were kings. Although, thinking about it now, I realize it was a recipe for disaster. But what teenager wants to think that through too thoroughly?
Seven.
“I don’t go out partying much.”
Oh, really? Who would have thought?
Six.
“Why not?” I ask politely.
Five.
“Look who’s here,” the redhead purrs into my ear. Bingo.
“Hey, that’s my line,” I answer, my eyes slowly caressing her body. I squint a little, pulling in a sharp breath of air as my look grazes her tits.
“I’m Liza,” she says, flattered.
“Hunter,” I say, grabbing her hand. I hold on to it a moment too long, letting my thumb brush across the back of her hand. It’s too easy…
“I’ve never seen you here before,” she says seductively, batting her lashes as she looks up at me. This particular move gets through to a man because it makes him imagine her on her knees in front of him, sucking his cock and trying to catch his eye. It’s the hottest shit.
“I just moved here,” I say.
She plays with her hair, pursing her lips. “Glad to hear it.”
Bending forward, I quietly ask, “Can we talk alone somewhere?”
She nods, even though she must know exactly what I want from her. Leaving her friend behind, I follow her. She takes me through a back door, out to the yard, and into a small shed. I shrug. I don’t really care where I fuck her, as long as I manage to get Dad’s bitch out of my mind…
“So, Hunter, what did you want to talk about?” she asks innocently.
I grin and put my hands on her hips. “You know exactly what I want to talk about.”
Slowly, I pull her toward me. Her hands land on my chest and proceed to stroke it gently. My lips find hers, and before long, I thrust my tongue inside. She makes a few exaggerated sex sounds, moaning like an actress in a porn movie. My fingers press into her little butt cheeks, pushing her against my hard-on, which she doesn’t even deserve credit for. She’s skinny as a skeleton, but the woman on my mind is the complete opposite. Dad’s woman has these awesome curves. Not to mention huge tits I would love to bite just to see how juicy they are. But, anyway, I’ll take these while my mind’s elsewhere.
“Hmmm,” she moans as her fingers move up under my shirt.
I pull down her dress and cup her tits with my hands, kneading them, teasing her nipples, making them lift toward me, begging me to lick them.
I pick her up and put her on a table by the wall. She spreads her legs, and I stand between them. My right hand slides up her leg, giving her goosebumps. Pushing her dress up her legs, I pull her G-string over to one side and run my fingertips over her wet folds. Then I push my fingers into her and pump them in and out. She starts opening my belt and then moves on to my jeans, pulling them down to free my dick. I get a condom from my wallet and put it on.
“Wow, it’s big,” she breathes. I have to refrain from laughing out loud at hearing this sentence from The Basic Guide to Fucking. Seriously. How ridiculous. If a man is big, he knows it and doesn’t need to hear it from you. And if he’s small, he’d rather you didn’t mention size at all, because you’ll end up embarrassing him. So just don’t.
“Slide forward,” I tell her, pulling her closer to the edge. I grab my dick with one hand and direct it where I want it. I bend forward, take her nipple into my mouth, and thrust into her. She moans and gasps at the highest notes.
News flash: if she makes this much noise, it’s usually fake. But if this is what she wants to do, who am I to stop her?
I thrust deep into her while she her hands clamp down on my shoulders “Oh, Hunter!” she breathes again and again.
One hand on her neck, the other on her hips, I sink my cock into her repeatedly. Then comes the spectacle called climax. Her screams get more pointed, her gasps louder, and her moans rise to a breathtaking crescendo. She’s almost reached her fake climax. Which is perfect, because I’m about to reach my real one. I thrust inside her harder, feeling my balls pull up, and with a groan, I cum into the condom. Okay, it was a grunt. Sex sounds are not the most attractive.
I pull out of her, and her pussy makes a smacking sound. I pull off the condom and make a knot in it.
“We can do that again sometime,” she says, brushing my arm.
“Sure,” I say, opening the door for her. Always the perfect gentleman.
I return to Carey, after a detour to the bathroom to dispose of my sperm, while she returns to her friends. My little brother looks at me in awe. No reason for it, really. It doesn’t take much. Most girls are gagging for a fuck with a good-looking man. And once they hear I’m a football king, they just melt. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.
“That didn’t take long,” he says.
I shrug. “Long enough for me to come and her to fake an orgasm.”
“How do you know it was fake?”
I grin. “Because it takes more than just sticking your dick in her. Let’s go. This party is lame.”
He nods, and we make our way out after telling Fisher we’re leaving. He’s an asshole, but he always throws parties, and there’s no easier place to fuck girls than a house party.
Back in my room, I get into bed naked. My hand firmly grips my favorite part of my body, and as I start moving my palm up and down, I think of her warm, brown eyes, and h
er body—not the redhead’s. Mackenzie’s. Hers are the hottest curves I’ve ever seen. And her tits are huge. Maybe it’s because she’s a real woman and no longer a teen. The mere thought of them makes me want to cum in my pants.
She’s not too tall, and not too short. Not as skinny as the girls I usually look at when I play with myself, but not too fat, either. Oh yes, she has curves to die for—with tits that make my mouth water and an ass I just want to smack. Fuck, yeah. I clutch my cock harder, squeezing it almost brutally as I imagine ramming into her. Again and again.
I remember leaning against the fridge as she tried to work up all her courage to tell me what to do. It was kind of cute.
I know what you’re thinking: why am I jerking off to her when, face to face, I treat her like shit? All I can say is the male brain works in weird ways. We can really hate a woman and still want to fuck her because she’s good-looking. No problem.
While my hand whizzes over my hard-on, I imagine her full, red lips tight around it as I fuck her mouth. She looks up at me with her big, round eyes, which are watering as I ram into her so hard it feels uncomfortable in her throat. My hands hold her head tight, keeping it still so I can get in the way I want.
My movement becomes hectic. I’m almost there. All it takes is imagining her little pink tongue licking the underside of my dick, and there I am. With a loud gasp, I cum across my hand and stomach. I stay where I am for a second, imagining her filled with my slime. She swallows, letting a bit of it trickle down her lips. Before I can get hard again, I walk over to the bathroom to wash off the gunk.
I hope I don’t have to keep jerking off thinking about my father’s bitch all year…
I wake up early. My mouth is dry. Pulling on my boxers, I go to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and greedily start gulping it down.
“Errm…” Somebody behind me quietly clears her throat. My cock gets hard as soon as I hear her voice. Good thing I’m standing behind the kitchen island. I turn around to face her.
She gives me a shy smile. “Good morning.”
She’s wearing shorts and a tank top her tits are almost spilling out of. Her hair is piled up on her head in a tousled bun, and she’s wearing black-rimmed glasses. She’d be awesome as a sexy librarian… Shit, that thought doesn’t exactly help my dick calm down.
