Escape: A Stepbrother Romance (15 page)

The girls would find out soon enough that Vicky had a new step-brother if they didn’t know already so I decided to tell them the truth.

“I’m Caiden. My mom is marrying Vicky’s dad so I’m living at her house at the moment.”

“Oh. So you’re not a virgin, Vicky?” the girl asked. “Why don’t you tell us all the details?”

“You won’t get her to tell you,” I said. “She’s really secretive about all that stuff. I think she’s worried her father will find out. But trust me, my bedroom is next door to hers and when her father is out of the house that room is rocking. It’s not really what a new step-brother wants to hear, but I suppose it’s good she has a passionate sex life.”

Vicky had gone bright red, but she appeared embarrassed more than angry. Hopefully that meant I’d done something good, but it was hard to tell with her. She’d certainly let me know later if I’d messed up.

The girl asking Vicky questions about her virginity now looked quiet and taken aback. I knew what that look meant. That girl was either a virgin herself and was hoping Vicky was too or she’d gotten laid once and can’t even remember it.

In some ways that was worse than being a virgin. At least when you were a virgin you had an excuse for being shit in bed. Once you’d been sexually active people assumed you knew what you were doing. If the sex was bad men were often cruel when they talked about it with their friends. Before you knew it, you had a reputation as a boring lay.

I wasn’t exactly one for long-term relationships, but there was something to be said for losing your virginity to someone who would be more than a one night stand. Someone you could practice with a bit until you were half decent at it.

The girls all introduced themselves to me, but I made no effort to remember their names. A few of the girls looked familiar from nights out in London though. Vicky had often gone out with her friends, so it wasn’t unusual that I recognized a few of them. One of the girls looked a little more familiar than most. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me and I knew why.

She’d come on to me at the bar in London and had practically begged me to take her up to my penthouse. I refused her even though she was pretty enough to look at and had a cracking pair of tits, because she looked far too clingy and was probably a virgin. I had been horny as hell that evening but the golden rule was still clear in my mind at that point. Eventually I took her outside to a quiet back alley I knew and let her suck me off. I had rules, but at a certain point it was just cruel to keep your cock to yourself.

I didn’t know for sure whether she was a virgin or not, but she certainly didn’t have a lot of experience at sucking dick. She licked it a lot, but barely made any effort to suck it. Eventually, I told her to stop and went back inside with a serious case of blue balls. She clearly still remembered what happened and couldn’t look at me. At least that was one girl not making a lame attempt at flirting with me right now.

The girls made room for me at the table, but I could tell Vicky didn’t want me there so I went to the bar and ordered a drink before pulling out a chair in front of one of the gambling machines. Gambling was legal everywhere in the UK and these machines were in every bar, pub, and club I’d been in since I arrived in the country. The locals called them ‘fruit machines.’ They looked a little like the one armed bandits you saw in Vegas, except there were many more lights and buttons to press.

The machines looked confusing and I’d seen people pump tons of money in for little reward. Occasionally you heard the odd jackpot winner, but a label on the machine made it clear that it’s only paid out 72% of what went in. Gambling was for mugs. Mugs and bored people. Right now I was bored, so I pumped £20 into the machine and started playing around with it.

At the bottom of the machine were three reels which contained fruits like cherries—presumably how the machines got their name—but also a lot of icons associated with a television show that the machine was themed after.

After the first spin, lots of lights lit up and the machine told me I had a bonus spin and could hold some of the items. I’d been to Vegas a few times and recalled that getting three cherries in a row meant you won something. I pressed the button to hold one of the cherries in place and then spun the wheel again.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” Vicky asked behind me.

I turned to see her looking over my shoulder. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long, but long enough to see that you’ve never used one of these before.”

“And you have? You don’t really look like the gambling type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Vicky said. “For one thing this show,” she tapped the name of the TV show at the top of fruit machine, “is my favorites of all time.”

“
Dad’s Army
? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s old, but brilliant. It aired before I was even born, but that kind of comedy survives for decades. I still don’t know if any funnier show has ever been made. I’m so obsessed with the show I even play the fruities that have its name on it.”

“Okay then,” I said, stepping to the side to allow Vicky to help. “Why don’t you show me how to play this thing.”

“First of all, you want to get the icons with numbers. Those numbers help you get on the board up the top. That’s where you make the real money. Spin the wheels again and I’ll show you.”

I spun the reels a few more times until I got the option to hold them again. “So, I should hold these two here because that gets me to six. If the other wheel spins again and comes through with two or more then I get on the board. Is that correct?”

“Blimey, you actually catch on quite quickly. Go on, spin the reel.”

The wheel spun but no numbers came up.

“Shit.”

“We have nudges,” Vicky said. She bent down to look closely at the wheel. I think she was looking to see what would come round next if I pressed the nudge button, but she had her face down near my crotch so I could only think entirely inappropriate thoughts. “Press this button twice.”

I did what she said. Another number came round and lots of lights flashed. We’d made it up onto the board. The game didn’t get any less confusing, but Vicky helped explain things and I ended up getting £5 back. We kept playing and won a few more small prizes, but eventually my money ran out and I wasn’t about to pump more in.

“How about the trivia machine?” I asked, pointing to a machine against the wall near where the girls were sat. “Seems like that involves less luck.”

“We can give it a go, but the machine is still fixed. You’ll get a few easy questions at the beginning and then they will ramp up quickly.”

“I’m feeling confident,” I said as I strolled over and put £5 into the machine.

My confidence rapidly disappeared. The questions were probably easy if you’d lived in England for longer than I had, but I knew nothing about cricket or soap operas so I quickly lost two lives.

“Want me to help you?” Vicky asked.

“I think I’m going to need it.” Another sports question came up, this time about soccer. “Who did Ryan Giggs play for?” I asked.

I’d forgotten how close we were standing to the other girls and they burst out laughing at my ignorance. “Man United,” at least three of them shouted out but once.

“Ignore them,” Vicky said quietly.  

“Don’t worry, I intend to.” I assumed she was talking about their laughter because the answer they yelled out was correct. It spoke more to their stupidity than mine that they assumed an American would know much about soccer. Okay, so some people back home liked it, but it wasn’t exactly popular. We soon lost the money and I reluctantly went and sat down with the girls at Vicky’s request.

A few of them decided they would show how clever they were by taking my place at the quiz machine and winning some money. They were probably doing better than me, but the absence of coins dropping out at the bottom of the machine made it clear they hadn’t won anything yet.

“Sophie,” one of the girls at the quiz machine yelled out to the girl sat next to me. “You’re the expert on English history. Who was known as the wisest fool in Christendom?”

“Oh that’s a tough one,” Sophie replied. “What are the options?”

“Richard the Lionheart, Henry VIII, George III...”

“That’s it,” Sophie said confidently. “George III. He was known as a fool and a little mad, but he was actually very wise.”

“You sure? This is our last life.”

“I’m sure.”

“You’re wrong,” I said loud enough for the girls at the machine to hear. “It’s James I. That’s the fourth option isn’t it?”

The girl at the machine nodded.

“Stop winding them up,” Vicky whispered. “They’re just going to tease you even more if you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong,” I said.

“No offense,” Sophie said. “But I don’t think we should take the word of someone who has never heard of Man United.”

I shrugged my shoulders and watched the girl press thought wrong answer.

“Holy shit, he was right. It was James I.”

“Lucky guess,” Sophie said. “He had a one in four chance.”

“Actually, Jane hadn’t read out all the options when he said James I,” Vicky said. “He knew the answer without hearing all the multiple choice options.”

“Fine,” Sophie said. “Why was James I known as the wisest fool in Christendom?”

“Most historians believe he had the potential to be a great king,” I said. “If you look at his private correspondence you will see he is incredibly intelligent and perceptive to an extent that few others were in the early 17th century. A real rarity among monarchs. That’s the wise part. Unfortunately, he had a voracious sexual appetite—one that would put even mine to shame—and he spent most of his time in orgies. Mainly with men actually. That’s the fool part.”

I looked over at Vicky who was biting her lip and trying not to laugh. In the brief time I had spent with her friends, I’d made her sound like a bit of a slut and had also managed to embarrass the supposed English history experts. The girls would probably start spreading rumors about Vicky and she’d likely be shunned from future gatherings, but she didn’t seem to care.

Vicky was better than all these girls anyway. When they came to London as a group, the girls felt the need to dress and act as mature as possible because they had only just turned eighteen and were usually the youngest in the bar. In their desire to appear grown up they always looked immature. Okay, so occasionally I screwed girls like that, but I never thought of them again after the night was over.

Vicky never tried to act older than she was. That made her look innocent and naïve when surrounded by her friends, but as I had found out, just because someone acts shy in public doesn’t mean they are shy in the bedroom. She was better off without these girls, and hopefully after tonight she would realize that.

I’d pissed off Sophie, but in the process had just inured myself to the rest of the girls. Most of them had been giving me the eye since I walked in, but they soon stepped the flirting up a level and practically fought each other to take an empty seat that appeared next to me when Sophie went to the bar.

The brunette that won the fight soon started touching my leg in a way that would clearly be inappropriate if I did it to a strange woman. She thrust her chest out and turned her back on the rest of her friends in her efforts to get my attention.  

Just a couple of weeks ago I would have seriously considered letting her have sex with me. I knew on a surface level she was attractive. She ticked all the right boxes and of all the girls here she did have a spark in her eyes that suggested she knew what to do in bed beyond laying there with her legs open.

But there was an emptiness inside me when I spoke to her. I wasn’t getting fired up inside in the way I usually did. Vicky was sat to my left and all I wanted to do was turn and look at her instead. I wanted her to be the one touching my leg and looking at me with lustful eyes.

In my peripheral vision I saw her place down an empty glass on the table. It had been nearly full not long ago, so I knew she had just knocked back her drink.

“I’m going to head off,” she said. Shamefully, none of her friends tried to keep her around. They were happy to see her leave.

“Let me walk you home,” I said.

“No, you stay here and have fun. I wouldn’t want to spoil your evening.”

“Yeah,” the brunette next to me said. “She only lives ten minutes away.”

“I insist,” I said, grabbing the brunette’s hand and pulling it off my leg. “I would say it was a pleasure to meet you all but, well… goodbye.”

“Thank you,” Vicky said as we walked out of the pub. It was the only thing she said to me on the way home, but that was just fine with me. I didn’t know what to say to her anyway. It scared me how much I wanted her. My body physically craved her. Something had to happen between us soon or I would explode.

I let her go into her bedroom without following her, but next time she wouldn’t get away so easily. I was getting to the stage where I couldn’t keep my passion for her hidden much longer. I needed to get back inside her tight little pussy. My patience was fast running out.