Sold to the Dom

by Amy Brent

  Afterwards, Matt, Mom, and I went to the reading of the will. I had little interest in hearing how Mr. Partridge distributed his money. I was sure I wasn't getting any, and it didn't really matter. My only concern was for Matt and the future of his company. He still planned to sell everything, but doing so first required him to inherit his father's controlling shares in the company. Without those, he wouldn't have any say in the company's future.

  The lawyer read through the will. It was worded simply, with only a few bits of legalese peppered throughout. It wasn't until he got to the end that my head shot up.

  “And so,” the lawyer read, “I hereby leave the sum total of my estate in its entirety to my son, Matthew William Partridge.”

  Mom and I both stared at Matt. Mom's jaw dropped open. “But,” she said. “But...wait. What about me? I'm his wife!”

  “I'm sorry, Mrs. Partridge,” the lawyer said. “The will is quite clear. Though I must tell you it was written before your marriage to Mr. Partridge. I'd been in talks with him about amending the will, but he was still uncertain how to proceed.”

  “What does that mean?” Mom asked. She clutched at her purse until her fingers turned white. “What does it mean, he was uncertain?”

  “What I mean,” the lawyer said, folding his hands atop the desk, “is that while I know Mr. Partridge wanted to see you taken care of, he did not want you to end up with a controlling interest in his media company. I mean no offense, ma'am, but the fact of the matter is, you were a career waitress before your marriage. Mr. Partridge couldn't give his company to you. It had to be passed to someone who understood how to manage it.”

  Mom looked at Matt. Her face was white. “But...but...no. I don't care about the company. What about my money?”

  “There is no money, Mrs. Partridge,” the lawyer said. “Mr. Partridge hadn't yet finished setting up the trust fund he planned to leave to you. And by law, it doesn't matter what he 'planned' to do. It only matters what was written on paper. And the only completed copy of a will is this one.” He tapped the pages on his desk.

  Mom continued her protests, but Matt put a hand on her knee. “Don't worry, Mom,” he said. I winced when he called her “Mom,” knowing he didn't see her as a real mother. “I'll make sure you're taken care of.”

  “You will?” She looked up at him with desperate hope in her teary eyes.

  Matt looked right at me, looking me dead in the eye. “Yes. I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

  A cold shiver worked its way up my spine.

  * * *

  * * *

  * * *

  “Because,” I whispered, licking my lips, “you're my stepbrother.”

  Matt stood towering over me, waiting for me to submit to his will. He'd told me what he wanted before he would help take care of my mother. He wanted me. My body, my willing submission to his desires. I'd said no at first. But then I'd realized what a desperate situation my mother was in. Before she'd married Mr. Partridge, she'd been deeply in debt and on the verge of losing her house. Once she moved into the mansion, she'd sold the house, quit her job, and left her old life behind. But now, if Matt decided to, he could kick her out of the mansion and she'd be homeless in the streets. I didn't know if he'd actually do it, or if this was all a game to him, but I knew that either way, I was a pawn in his scheme.

  Matt slipped his hand into my tight white blouse. I trembled as he touched my breast and pinched my nipple. I wanted to be angry with him to be disgusted that he was making me do this. But deep down, I knew this was what I wanted. I wanted to be used by him. To be dominated like this. To be forced into submission.

  He placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed me down to my knees. I looked up at him, trembling. Yes, this was how I wanted it. I was too scared to admit my desires to myself, too ashamed to take what I wanted. So if I told myself he was forcing me, if I pretended that I had no choice, then it was as if I wasn't the one making this decision. I'd pretend that he was taking advantage of me so that I could get what I wanted without being disgusted with myself. Because no matter how much I tried to deny it, I desperately wanted my stepbrother. I wanted him to hold me down, to take me, to claim me as his own, to have his way with me in the dirtiest ways possible.

  But I wouldn't admit that aloud. Not to him, and not to myself.

  “Please,” I whispered. “Don't make me.

  Please make me, I thought silently to myself.

  “I'm just giving you what you've always wanted, Sis.” He grinned as he started unzipping his pants.

  “No,” I said, lowering my eyes in shame. “No, I don't want to.”

  Yes I do, I thought.

  He reached down and grabbed my chin in an iron grip, tilting my face up towards him. “Open your mouth.”

  I did as he told me, and before I could pull away, he thrust himself between my lips.

  I moaned and closed my eyes, letting him do as he pleased. Letting go of my fears, of all control, was liberating. All I had to do was kneel there and let myself be used, and I loved it.

  He held my head by both sides, thrusting himself against my face. I reached up and clung to his thighs, holding on for all I was worth. I was ready to take everything, to swallow it all, though I knew there was more to what he wanted.

  He started to tense up, and I thought for sure his climax was approaching. But I didn't want it to end yet. I wanted to spur him on, to make him take me in the most forbidden way. He kept thrusting, and it seemed he wouldn't stop. I knew if I was going to get what I truly wanted, I was going to have to convince him to take me.

  I needed to rile up his most dominant instincts. Make him more aggressive.

  I pulled back, gasping for air. I backed away from him, pushing across the floor with my hands and feet. “No,” I said. “Don't.”

  He glared at me, angry at being denied when he was so close to climax. He stalked forward, grabbing me. I struggled, but it was only for show. My struggles spurred him on, making him get rougher. He grabbed me and pushed me down to the ground, pinning me beneath him.

  Yes, I thought. Yes, make me. Don't let me get away.

  “No,” I said aloud, keeping up the charade. I couldn't tell if he knew I was faking my resistance. It didn't matter, though, as long as my fake protests kept spurring him to be more aggressive. “Please, let me go.”

  “You want this, bitch,” he said. He pulled his pants the rest of the way off and knelt between my legs. “You're a tease. Do you like playing games with your big brother?”

  “No.” I shook my head, closing my eyes. “I'm not a tease. I'm a good girl.”

  He laughed and leaned down over me, spreading my legs. He pressed himself against me. I moaned, aching to have him inside of me. He teased me, rubbing himself against me without finishing what he'd started. I squirmed and whimpered, wanting it, needing it, but unable to do anything but wait until he gave it to me.

  He grabbed my hair and turned my face towards him, leering down at me. He made me look into his eyes. I gasped, feeling completely controlled by his stone gaze. In that moment he entered me, filling me, completing me.

  I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him tighter against me. There was nothing gentle about the way he took me, there on his bedroom floor. It was raw, it was animalistic, and it was amazing. I grabbed his shoulders and dug my nails into them, holding on for dear life. I'd never had a man who was so rough, so passionate, so determined to take what he needed from me. It made me feel wanted and alive.

  I was thoroughly worn out by the time he collapsed on top of me, panting. I clung to him, holding him tight against me, refusing to let him go. We were both covered in sweat and out of breath. I felt like I'd earned an Olympic gold medal after such a workout.

  Matt rolled off of me, laying on his back on the floor. He closed his eyes, blissfully content. I watched him, wondering what to make of what had just happened. How would this change our relationship? Where would we go from here? But I didn't have any of the answers
. Nor did it matter. For now, for this moment, we'd both gotten what we'd wanted for such a long time.

  I got up, stretching my back. Doing it on the floor had been kinky, but uncomfortable. I started searching for my clothes. My real clothes, that is. The way too small schoolgirl outfit had done its job by getting Matt all worked up, but I couldn't go home wearing it.

  “You in a rush to leave?” Matt asked. He gazed up at me from the floor, laying there with his hands folded under his head.

  “We had our fun,” I said, pulling on my pants. “I should head home.”

  He got up and came over to me, pulling me into his arms. “Stay.”

  “Why?” I looked up at him, uncertain.

  “Because I want you to.”

  I started to feel warm. “Why?” I asked.

  “Because.”

  I pursed my lips, sensing something behind his hesitation. He might have been in control when we were having sex, but now that it was done, I'd found a vulnerable place. “Because why?”

  “Anne...”

  I pulled away, smiling coyly and backing away from him. “Tell me why, Matt.”

  He lowered his arms and hung his head, defeated. “Because I'll miss you.”

  “Why?”

  He frowned. I could tell he didn't like losing control like this. But that was just too bad. I had to know. “Why?” I asked again.

  “Because I don't feel the same when you're not here.”

  My heart thudded in my chest. Maybe, I realized, there was something more to Matt than just his primal desires. “How do you feel when I'm here?” I held my jacket up in front of my chest, blocking his view, teasing him.

  “Complete.”

  I lowered the jacket, suddenly feeling teary-eyed. “And what about my mom?”

  He frowned. “Uhh, she doesn't make me feel complete.”

  “No, stupid.” I threw the jacket at him. He caught it, laughing. “About the inheritance.”

  “Oh, don't worry.” He tossed the jacket aside and walked over to me, slipping his arms around me. “She'll be taken care of. You don't think I was really going to cut her off, do you? She can have the mansion, and I'll make sure she's set up for life.”

  “You will?” I pressed myself against him.

  “Of course.”

  We kissed, and this time it was slow, deep, and sensual. Now that our more primal urges had been sated, we could relax and enjoy the moment together. Kissing him was like waking up to a bright new dawn. I felt like all of my concerns in the world had been washed away. Nothing else mattered in that moment, except for the man in my arms.

  I stayed the night, sharing his bed for the second time ever, though this time we slept in each other's arms. I wrapped the silken sheets around myself and nestled against him, content. I knew that in the morning I might still struggle with my shame, with the thought of what people would think about us. I didn't know if my mother would understand or accept this relationship. I didn't know whether we'd be able to be open about it, or if it would remain our dirty little secret. But I did know that I wanted to pursue this. That I wanted to learn the deepest, most intimate secrets of my stepbrother's life.

  Matt kept his promise, and my mother was soon provided with a trust fund that would keep her safe and secure for the rest of her life. She eventually moved out of the mansion and into a more modest (though still luxurious) home, saying that she had felt too lonely in such a big place all by herself. She started filling her time with charity work, putting the money she'd acquired to good use by helping others. It made me proud to know that she had found a greater depth than I'd thought she had.

  Matt sold his shares in his father's company, keeping the freedom that he needed in his life. Though there was one part of his life that soon changed, adding a wonderful little obligation that he just couldn't deny. A few weeks after our first wonderful night together, I discovered I was pregnant. He took the news better than I could have hoped for, and while we still maintained the wild, carefree lifestyle that we both loved, we started making a place in our lives for the new addition that was coming to our family. I moved in with Matt soon after, and he had the apartment renovated to make room for a nursery. Prepping for the baby soon dominated the majority of our time, but since I didn't have to work anymore, I was able to devote myself entirely to getting ready to be a mother.

  A few months later, I stood in the completed nursery, holding my hands over my growing belly. I looked around the room, studying the crib, the decorations, and the sights that would be our child's first view of the world. Matt stood behind me, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my cheek.

  “What are we going to tell our kid?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.” I twisted around to smirk at him.

  “You mean, about us?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well,” he said, sighing. He paused for a long moment, talking about it. “If you want to get technical about it, we were only really step-siblings for about six months.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “So that's the story?”

  “We'll just tell them,” he said, pulling me close again, “that our parents introduced us.”

  I laughed, held him tight, and kissed him. That sounded like the perfect answer to me.

  * * *

  UNEXPECTED BABY

  * * *

  PART 1

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  Aaron Nellers parked his gray Range Rover in the new spot under the Garden, letting it sink in that he was now the owner of the New York Rangers after a bit of negotiation on the part of a few people. It was quiet around him and he enjoyed the calm before the storm before he went in to check on things and take a look at the practice.

  Nothing was like being out there for any player, but for Aaron, that was over. He’d suffered a few blows to his collateral ligament, resulting in too many surgeries to continue playing. He retired at thirty-one and taken some time to recover from the life altering change as well as to decide what to do now.

  Aaron had been responsible with his money, inspired by his father’s background in banking and smart choices. He was grateful that finances hadn’t been a problem for him but the loss of the sport had been devastating, having been a center for The Rangers for most of his career after a brief stint with the Penguins. Aaron was one of the best players on the ice when his injuries became too much for the sport, leaving behind a few records for the younger players to try and catch up to.

  He’d slipped into an intense darkness at first, not leaving his apartment and using the excuse that he was recovering from his tenth surgery. Aaron was angry and resentful, not speaking to anybody for weeks until his parents had stepped in.

  Aaron was particularly close to his father Glen and his mother Janice, only in their sixties and still very active and currently into traveling. That had made it easier for him to sulk until they arrived back from Australia, a trip they’d planned before the surgery. He’d insisted that they stick to their plans and that he’d have help, becoming a recluse immediately afterward. Once they got home and stopped over at his Manhattan apartment to see how he was doing, both parents became immediately concerned. Their son was clearly not taking care of himself; not eating well, sleeping too much and not doing the exercise required for the healing or any other kind for that matter.

  Glen started taking him to see a therapist to deal with the changes in his life as well as one of the best physical therapists in the world, both things that Aaron should have been taking care of himself. There were many long talks about his future that he hated during the course of them, though they left him with more love and respect for his folks than he’d ever guess he’d have when he was younger and thought that he knew it all. He eventually pulled himself out of the blackness and started exercising again per strict doctor’s orders to regain his health as close as he could to when he’d played.

  Six months after the day he retired, Aaron fou
nd out that his former team was for sale after having a couple of bad years in the books. The current owner was older and planning to retire, which is when Aaron consulted with his father and made the plan to make an offer. He had a lot of money saved, several contacts in the sport to fill the spots needed to make a better team and the knowledge from playing himself. Aaron was also well-liked and he was one of the favorites in the fight for the team. He was both pleased and slightly resentful when he became the new owner, knowing that it was going to hurt seeing them play the way that he couldn’t. Aaron had to move on and this was a good way to stay in something that he loved and lived for as well as bringing in some good income for his future.

  He was honest with his therapist Lydia how much it hurt him to make the decision, something that she helped him through just like everything else. Aaron had taken care of the unpleasantness of the necessary firings himself, using his connections to get a new head coach in a friend who had played a few years longer than him as an aggressive and excellent goalie. He’d be tough and inspiring for the team that had been sinking lately under the scandal of the former owner, leaving them with low morale and little motivation. The assistant coach was someone that he knew from the college circuit, leading his team in several championships before he’d accepted the position.

  Those were easy choices for Aaron. He’d also looked to fill a few other positions, including a sports therapist for the team. The former had a pattern of calling in and leaving the team with recurring injuries. There were the usual older applicants with incredible experience but when the pretty redhead walked into the room to sit before the panel, he and his coaches and father had all sat up a little straighter.

  Holly Miller was only twenty-two, but she’d been working with one of the best UFC teams for the last couple of years before she’d graduated. Holly had been involved in sports for years in school and had chosen early on to pursue therapy as a degree choice, taking whatever classes that she could to gain early credits for college. She’d moved here to attend school in the city after two years at the University of Southern California, choosing to follow her fighter and continue to work with him. She knew her stuff and her energy was almost contagious as she impressed them with every answer.