GRIND: A Stepbrother Romance

by Stephanie Brother

  "Yes," I countered. "If he's not wealthy, then my mind immediately goes to wondering if he wants you for your money. Don't tell me you haven't wondered that yourself."

  "Money is not the issue here. And honestly? I don't care if he's interested in the money. It's been so long since I've felt like this. I love being this happy, and he's the reason for it. Haven't you ever met someone that made you feel magical?"

  I snorted. "Magical?"

  "Yes, Cory. Magical. Like everything else feels surreal because this person is the realest thing you've ever seen. You've never felt this way? Even if it was just for one date?"

  One date… my thoughts wandered back to last night with Emma. It had only been a way for me to both take care of the wine shattering incident to take some of the humiliation off her, and of course, to take her out and learn more about the stunning strawberry blonde… But one date with Emma certainly didn't feel like enough. Not even close.

  The way she squirmed as I licked her. How her cheeks flushed the deepest red all the way down across her chest as I fucked her tight pussy with all I had. Even how she curled up on her side against me as she fell asleep… All of it was the kind of hot passion I felt like I'd never have again with someone that way. I couldn't help but smile, thinking about her.

  "Mm-hmm. So you have, then. Honey, I can see it written all over your face! But I haven't heard anything about this woman… Who is she? Do I know her?" Mom interjected into my thoughts, dragging me back into the present.

  "It's nothing." I wasn't about to go down that particular road with her, anyhow. "We're not talking about me right now, so don't try and change the subject," I said, smiling at her knowingly.

  "Me? Never!"

  We were both quiet for a minute, sipping our wine and thinking. Emma's hair on the pillow. Her smell on my sheets… Dammit, I was going to have to stop thinking about all that or else I'd pop a boner in the middle of lunch like a damn kid.

  "So, Jeremy," I sighed. "I guess at the very least you're not married to him quite yet. I may have some time to get your head on straight."

  The blood immediately drained from Mom's face as she turned away, her hands fiddling with her napkin in her lap.

  "Am I missing something?" I asked, my eyes narrowing at her.

  "I guess I might as well tell you now. We uh, we're already technically married. At least according to the State of Texas," she added, still not meeting my eyes.

  "Mom, are you crazy? What were you thinking?" I asked through gritted teeth, not wanting to create a scene.

  This time she did look at me, a determined expression on her face. She wanted me to know she wasn't going to just back down. "No need to worry, Cory. He signed a pre-nup. I love him… and when it's love, it's right. I want to spend every breathing second with him. Haven't you ever felt like that?"

  "He better not be my age," I grumbled, ignoring her. "I don't think I could stand it."

  She tilted her head to the side, folding her arms across her blouse. "Well, I guess you're going to have to wait and see, won't you? Which is fine, because you'll be seeing him very soon."

  "Oh yeah?"

  "We're leaving for St. Lucia on Friday, for our own little twist on the wedding. And Cory? I expect you to be there."

  I didn't know whether to laugh or yell. "So I'm being dragged to this circus, then, am I?"

  Her face softened and I knew right away that I'd hit a nerve. As much as I hated seeing so much happen outside of my control, and as much as I was sure this whole marriage thing wasn't going to turn out in the end, I hated seeing the hurt look on her face. "I'm sorry, Mom. Of course I'll be there."

  Chapter 8

  EMMA

  * * *

  "God, that was brutal. I'm pretty sure I messed up about half of my notecards during my presentation. How do you think you did, Emma? Emma?" Justin, a friend from class, interrupted my thoughts.

  "Hmm?" I'd been so tired from going over my notes last night that I'd ended up having a dream about my senior thesis literally coming to life and trying to ruin my presentation of ‘Adult-Children Discourse in Real-life Conversation versus Classic Children's Literature.’ There may have been a giant talking lion and a man in a yellow hat involved.

  Justin waved his hand around in front of my face. "Hello? You in there?"

  "Sorry. I'm just a little… out of it, I guess. Let's just say I'm glad that's over. I've been dreading giving that presentation all term," I admitted, smiling at Justin as he nodded.

  "Yeah, I feel you there. You want to go grab some lunch? Maybe celebrate with some of the other guys from class?"

  Everyone else was milling out of the exam room, several of them looking as if they'd just finished running a marathon. I knew exactly how they felt, with this class being the very last for me. "Actually, I think I'm going to go back to my room and cry sweet tears of relief. I'm sure we can all celebrate maybe tonight, though."

  "But toil without song is like a weary journey without an end," he replied in a sing-song voice, nudging at me with his elbow.

  "Ugh, I hate when you quote Lovecraft at me. You know how I feel about him."

  We made it out to the hallway's exit, and Justin pushed the door open for me, gesturing for me to go through. "Duh, why do you think I do it? Don't hate the man just because he's a cat person."

  I rolled my eyes. "He was a complete narcissist who worshipped cats, loathed dogs, and hated everything else right along with them. I'm definitely heading to bed now," I said, waving at him as he chuckled at me.

  It was amazing how even though it felt so normal to just walk to the other end of the campus, it was going to be the last time I did so. I thought I might end up feeling a little nostalgic about it, but it turned out that I was just ready to get on with my life. There were bigger and greater things waiting ahead of me.

  The voicemail notification buzzed in my tote bag, and I pulled it out to listen.

  "I'm so, so proud of you baby. I know you probably just passed your last final with flying colors, so I think congratulations are in order, if I'm not mistaken. So here's what I need you to do. You listening? Good, because I want you to pack your bags. Make sure to pack lightly because I have a special surprise for you. And it's not just the trip we're taking to St. Lucia tomorrow morning, either! I have someone important for you to meet. I'll be there to pick you up first thing tomorrow, so be prepared. Love you, Emma-girl," Dad's voice echoed through the phone as the message ended.

  Completely shocked, I didn't know what to think, except… Holy hell, first Italy, now St. Lucia?

  Pulling my rolling suitcase behind me, I shielded my eyes from the sun, wishing I'd thought to take my sunglasses out of it before I'd loaded up. I thought it was weird that we were going to the smaller airport instead of Austin-Bergstrom International, but I kept quiet.

  The moment Dad led us through to the tarmac outside, I had to stop and wonder just what the hell was going on. "Dad… why are we out here?"

  Without turning around, he answered, "To get on a plane, of course."

  "Yeah but… how?"

  This time he looked back at me, something hidden in his expression. Then it slowly dawned on me once we'd stopped and I looked up.

  "Why are we in front of a private jet?" The engines were already on, my hair whipping all around my face as I watched the reaction on his. Whatever was going on, Dad had wanted to wait to tell me about it.

  "Okay, kiddo, here's the deal," he began, yelling over the jet noise. "I met someone very special, and I'd like you to meet her."

  "All this for a new girlfriend? What about the plane, though?" I yelled back. As a literature professor at Concordia University he made decent money, but not flying-off-to-St. Lucia-in-a-private-jet kind of money.

  He shook his head. "Look, I'm not good with beating around the bush and I know you don't like when I do… I've met someone who I'd like you to meet and the thing is, well, she's super special to me and I think that if you just—"

  "Still beating
around the bush."

  Hanging his head for a moment, he recomposed himself. "You're going to be, well, um, meeting your new stepmother and stepbrother."

  My ears must have been ringing. “Sorry, that sounded way off. What?” I yelled over the noise, cupping my ear.

  “I got married, Emma!”

  The blood drained from my face instantly. I’d heard him clearly the first time yet it didn’t make a lick of sense. "Wait, what? What the fuck? Dad!" I shrieked but he was already pulling me along to the steps of the plane, tapping me to go first.

  I somehow managed to make it to the top, not having a single moment to question him about well, any of it, just as I was sure he planned. Leave it to my father to spring something like this on me without giving me a chance to process any of it.

  With a not-so-subtle push from behind, I stepped up and into the plane, my hair a total mess of a tangle. I barely had time to brush it out of my face before Dad slipped inside, the door shutting behind him as he wiggled his eyebrows at me.

  “Oh, we are so having a nice long talk when we get off this plane,” I said, not caring who heard.

  In a dark pressed suit and a green tie, a younger man who looked like he could've been in college too stood in front of me wearing a polite smile on his face.

  "You must be the new stepbrother," I mused, sighing as I dropped my suitcase down and reluctantly stuck out my hand. The words rolled lazily off my tongue because it didn’t feel real. "I'm Emma, Jeremy's daughter."

  Seeming confused for a moment, he looked to my father, who laughed.

  When I turned to snap at him and ask him what was so damn funny, he shook his head. "Emma, let me please introduce you to Sandy. Sandy, please meet my lovely daughter, Emma."

  The older woman was elegantly beautiful in a way that oozed class and sophistication. She was wearing a plum pencil skirt paired with a black mandarin-collared jacket, the double-strand of pearls at her neck catching my eye. Even her hair was pulled back in a simple updo, taking away from the lines that were barely noticeable on her face. If I was lucky enough to get to be her age and still look that good, I'd be twice as lucky as I was now.

  "Emma, it's so lovely to finally get a chance to meet you," she said, her voice like velvet. She was beautiful and seemed nice enough, but I couldn't imagine my father with her… Yet here we were, the two of them apparently already hitched without bothering to mention it to me. Maybe it was immature of me, but all I wanted to do was throw a fit and ask him why.

  "It's… nice to meet you too," I said, waiting for the introduction to the guy in the tie.

  Behind Sandy, I heard a soft gasp, a pair of familiar shoes peeking around the side of the white leather seat facing away from us.

  The guy in front of me turned around to grab something out of a hidden cabinet, and turned back with his hands full of hand-crafted wine glasses. "Would you care for a drink, miss?" he asked me.

  Scrunching up my face, I took one because yes, of course I'd take a free glass of wine, but I was still really confused. "Uh, sure."

  "And Emma? May I introduce you to my son, Cory?" Sandy asked, turning on her low-heels to face the tall man who'd just stood up, his worn cowboy boots immediately clicking in place inside my head.

  I swallowed hard as I looked up into the face of the man I'd just had the most amazing night of my life with. Cory Shire, AKA my sexy hot cowboy. AKA… my new stepbrother.

  Everything in me sort of exploded and fizzled away all at once. On one hand, Cory was here with me, so close I could reach out and touch him, just like I did when I was at his house. On the other hand, in the middle of all the weird ways I felt about this whole elopement thing being thrown at me, I had slept with my stepbrother. I didn't know whether to laugh like a crazy person, or sob. It was hard not to do both, honestly.

  His eyes were just as wide as mine but clearly Cory had a better poker face, because he smoothed it over just enough to look as though he faintly remembered me, versus the way I was obviously shocked at seeing him.

  Dad looked between us, his smile faltering. "Do you two… know each other?"

  I think I must've blinked something like ten times in a row before it clicked in my head that I should say something. "Uh, well… I mean, sort of. We met at the winery…"

  "Yeah, I met her at my vineyard…" Both of us began at the same time, our voices fading off together. I took another deep breath once I remembered to breathe.

  "Oh, what a small little world it is!" Sandy said, taking her glass from the other guy, who I stupidly realized must be a flight attendant.

  I weakly laughed and took one too, my eyes never leaving Cory's as the guy poured everyone a bottle of the very same wine Cory had poured me the night before last, and the very same wine he'd had delivered to the sorority house only this morning.

  "How about a celebratory toast?" Dad suggested, raising his glass as he slipped his hand around Sandy's waist. The move wasn't lost on Cory, who quickly looked back at me. "To family!" Dad said, clinking glasses with everyone.

  "How about the whole bottle?" I said under my breath.

  "Excellent idea," Cory softly replied, although this time he wasn't looking at me, but down at his feet.

  "This is your pilot speaking. Please take your seat and strap in your safety belts, everyone. Our arrival time is in roughly seven hours, where we'll be arriving at Hewanorra International Airport, in beautiful St. Lucia. Thank you," the pilot's voice boomed over the intercom.

  Seven hours? I couldn't even imagine seven more minutes stuck on this airplane in such an awkward position…

  Chapter 9

  CORY

  * * *

  I casually waved off Michael, our assistant, as he tried to pour my glass of wine. "No worries, man. I've got this." Filling the glass to the top and not at all concerned with the looks on both Emma and my mom's faces, I took a healthy sip of it.

  It was slowly starting to come to me, the fact that I was now somehow related to Emma. It burned at my stomach, making me want to bleach my brain so that I could forget all about it. It wasn't that it actually bothered me that we'd fucked, but that my mother unknowingly screwed up the way I was supposed to think about Emma. When I pictured Emma, it was with her hair all mussed up on the pillow, the pattern of freckles that started at her shoulders and trailed down to fade right at the top of her lusciously small and beautiful tits, the ones that fit ever so perfectly in my hands. I'd lost count of the times I'd thought of her since our night together, imagining her outline squirming under me in the dark.

  And now I was supposed to look at her like a sister? Even if that were in the realm of my capabilities, I wouldn't want to. Not when she smiled and looked at me like I was the only person in the room.

  "So uh, how did you two end up meeting?" Emma's voice cut clear through my thoughts of her. Her expression was politely guarded, as if she were fending off attackers with compliments. I didn't blame her—even I still didn't know what to say about our parents getting married out of the blue.

  Her dad chuckled while Mom squeezed his hand. "It's actually a funny story…"

  Funny or not, my only plan for the trip was to get stupid plastered and forget I ever found this out in the first place. I drained my glass of wine, unable to stop watching as Emma pretended to listen to my mom's giddiness, her eyes seemingly unable to stop flickering to mine.

  I wondered if she'd been thinking of me since that night. With her finals, I supposed not, and a ridiculous flame of jealousy burned at me as I wished she'd been studying me that hard instead of some essay or whatever.

  Not to be outdone apparently, Emma reached for the wine bottle and poured the rest of it into her own glass. She was already two drinks in and all I could think about was how at this point, she'd begun to flirt with me back at my place.

  "And that's why I had to cancel class that day," Jeremy finished, smiling like some young kid in love at Mom.

  "You are something else, you know that? Actually, Cory, Jeremy is a p
rofessor at Concordia University. A brilliant one already on tenure, with dozens of works published. His specialty is Shakespeare," she explained, tilting her head to me.

  "What a tragedy," I joked, the corner of my mouth quirking as Emma nearly spit out her wine, cleverly covering it up with the napkin nearby. "I knew that, though."

  My mother wasn't nearly as impressed, however. "You know?"

  Emma's eyes darted to mine and I cleared my throat quickly. "Ah, yeah. I mean, I'm sure he's tenured."

  If there was one thing me and Emma definitely agreed on, even silently, it was that our parents could never know how we really met. Emma let out a relieved sigh and sank back against the white leather cushion, staring up at the ceiling of the plane.

  Ever the romantic, my mom put on some jazz music and asked Jeremy if he'd like to dance with her. While they were busy whispering God knows what into each other's ears, Emma and I did our very best to avoid eye contact. As much as I wanted to look at her, it was difficult not to be taken back to the moment we had been slowly dancing around my sitting room, my arms around her slim waist.

  "Isn't she a fantastic dancer, Em?" her father asked as he and Mom stopped twirling around, a little out of breath.

  "Mm-hmm, very nice," Emma agreed, barely looking up from her phone.

  Hours later, after more than enough bottles of wine had been passed around, mainly between Emma and me, the older two had fallen asleep on the longer couch, a couple dozen feet away, nestled against each other. It would've even been cute, except for her father's loud snoring.

  Bored and feeling like I was getting ready to jump out of my skin, I glanced over at Emma and watched her take another tiny sip of her glass, pretending to not notice me looking at her. "Why are you nursing that?"

  Surprised I had said anything at all and broken the silence between us, Emma looked right at me. "Sorry, I don't want to get sick on a long flight."