He's So Fine (A BBW Stepbrother Romance) (3 page)

“I need to stay here, Danny.”

He gave me another hard look. Then, before I could protest, he lowered his head and kissed me. Hard. I don’t know what he was going for but it certainly didn’t make me want to swoon. It made me want to lift my knee and jam it between his legs. Before I did just that, he pulled away.

“I’ll see you around, babe.” He smirked as he turned back to Cage.

“Not if I see you first,” I mumbled under my breath. Danny was the leader. While I didn’t particularly like any of them, I didn’t want to spend the entire summer in my own company. Sometimes it was fun to hang out with them. Today was not one of those days.

My gaze moved to Cage. I wouldn’t mind hanging out with him.

The others took off, following Teddy and Danny off the porch. They walked down the steps, taking the short cut to the tennis courts at the side of the house. The girls were a little slower to move away, each saying a giggly, breathless goodbye to my new stepbrother.

“Are those public tennis courts?” He walked over to the end of the porch and watched them leave. No doubt getting one last look at the twitchy bitchy asses. They had more struts in their walk than a race car. But, as my mother said, they didn’t nearly have my jiggle.

“No, they’re Horace’s.”

He turned around and leaned back against the porch railing. It went all the way around the house. I had to admit I loved the porch on the house. When it rained, I’d sit at the back of the house and watch the waves crash against the shore. I’d never been to the beach before this trip. A single mom had little money left over for luxury vacations.

“Horace? Why don’t you call him Dad?”

“Because he’s not.” I shrugged my shoulder, wincing a little at the pull. I was already sporting a slight redness from yesterday’s hours of torture on the beach. Torture because it was hot and I’d been in a bathing suit. I wasn’t ashamed of my curves, but what woman wanted to be next to women who clearly had better figures? No one did.

“Why are those schmucks still using the tennis courts if you’re not with them?”

I gave another shrug of my shoulder. “Because they can.”

“Hmm. That’s not really a good reason to do some things, Sis.”

“Look, it’s hot out here, why don’t we go inside?”

“You brave enough to invite the big, bad wolf inside, little red?”

“My hair is not red.”

“No, but your face turns a very cute shade every time you’re embarrassed. Which is a lot.” He moved away from the railing and picked up the backpack he’d deposited on a wicker chair. “Lead the way.”

CAGE

I had to say I was not disappointed when my new sister—stepsister—turned on her heel and flounced inside. I never thought I’d use the word flounce, but there you were. I’d been doing a lot of things I hadn’t thought I’d be doing these last couple of weeks. Like getting ready for my big fight with Saul and hopping a bus to the Hamptons—a place I never thought I would be.

I shuddered at the snootiness that seemed to wash over me.

The inside of the house didn’t disappoint. It was as richly appointed as the outside. Everything had a light and airy feel as appropriate for a house on the beach. If it wasn’t for the size of the furniture I’d feel as out of place as a bull in a china shop. The couches and chairs looked like they’d have no trouble holding a man of my size.

“Would you like some lemonade or iced tea?”

Abby had placed her tennis racket in the hall closet. From the looks of things, everything had a place and it was expected that everything stay perfectly in its place. Where the hell did that leave me? Because I was damn sure my long lost father didn’t have a place for a son sporting tats and who fought for a living. I mentally shrugged my shoulders. Sleeping on the beach wouldn’t be that bad this time of year. I’d slept in worse places.

If I had the habit of spending the night in a woman’s bed after I fucked her, I was pretty sure the brunette who had draped herself over me a minute ago would give me a place to lay my head. And my dick. But I didn’t do overnighters.

Conquer, fuck, and leave. That was my motto.

I watched as Abby pulled at the hem of her shirt. It had ridden up as she’d stretched to put away the racket, but not enough to reveal anything. For a second, I wondered how the white strip of skin between her navel and pussy would taste. Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I wanted to know how her sweet pussy tasted.

“You got any rum to go in that tea?” I’d thought I’d get another stuttering response and was surprised when she answered me.

“Your father has a wet bar in the basement. I can go get you some if you want.”

“He doesn’t lock it?”

“No. He’s never had a reason to.” Her tone suggested that he might have a reason now. The timid kitty had some claws.

“How about some lemonade?”

She smiled at me and I felt about ten feet tall thinking I’d made the right choice. If only she’d been there for the last ten years of my life. Some choices I couldn’t unmake. I followed her into the kitchen. I wasn’t one to wait around for invitations.

The kitchen had as many high-end finishes and furnishings as the living room. If this was my father’s vacation house, I’d hate to see what his everyday house looked like.

“What, no housekeeper to pour your drink for you?”

Her back was turned toward me as she stood in the draft of the refrigerator. She threw a glance over her shoulder, letting me know my barb hadn’t stung, but that she was fully aware of what I was trying to do. Well, at least one of us knew.

“No. My mother likes to cook.”

“Do you?” What the hell was happening to me? I was making small talk with a girl. I never made small talk with a girl. The most I usually said was your place or mine. Sometimes I didn’t even give them the choice, depending on what I wanted to do for the night. Most girls didn’t have the toys I liked to play with lying around their bedrooms.

She shrugged her shoulder again and I realized it was a nervous habit, like tugging at the hem of her shirt. I wished she had on something else, something that would slip off her shoulder and reveal her creamy smooth skin. I realized I should have hooked up with a girl before I made the trip. That had to be the cause for my unreasonable attraction to this woman.

My stepsister.

Oh, fuck, that would be just wrong. Wouldn’t it?

She retrieved a glass pitcher filled with lemonade. It had lemon slices floating on top. She had to steady it with both hands, leaving no doubt it was real crystal. Stretching again, she reached for two glasses in the cabinet above her head.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was at her side, taking them down and handing them to her. Now, no one ever accused me of being a gentleman. But hell, if it didn’t bring out something in me to see her struggling like that. “Here you go. Maybe you should get a little step stool or something.” I grinned down at her as I handed her the glasses.

She gave me a reprimanding look worthy of a teacher. Or a nun. “Ha, ha. How’s the weather up there, by the way?”

“Touché.”

She wasn’t really short, about five-five in my estimation. But that made her a whole foot shorter than me. I didn’t move as she poured us each a glass of lemonade. It seemed to frazzle her so I stepped closer when her back was turned.

She let out a little yelp when she bumped into me. “I didn’t know you were that close.”

She pushed those cute little glasses up her nose. It made me want to take them off to see just how beautiful those eyes were.

I used the excuse of retrieving my glass of lemonade to crowd her against the counter. I let my cock brush against her hip and delighted in the sharp inhalation of breath she couldn’t control. I took a long drink, knowing her gaze would follow the movement of my throat. It was a cheap seduction trick most guys learned early. I set down the empty glass, caging her in with my arms.

I used
that
trick every time I could. Chicks went crazy and thought that was how I got my name. Caging them in with my arms.

It wasn’t. My mother had named me Cage. Horace Cage. What a fucking name. I always wondered if she thought my birth had somehow put her in a cage. That was a conversation we would never have. She’d been dead to me long before I’d buried her.

“That was good. Did you make it?”

“Yes.” Her voice held a tiny little squeak and I smiled. She reminded me of a mouse trapped by a cat. A cat about to pounce.

ABBY

I didn’t know how I was even breathing with Cage so close to me. I felt like I had landed on the surface of the sun and all the oxygen had been sucked from my lungs. He continued to stand there, his eyes boring directly into mine. I looked away and fiddled with my glasses. I did that when I got nervous. I have several nervous habits that acted as defense mechanisms when someone got too close.

When someone got this close to me, studying me this intently, all my insecurities rose to the surface. I didn’t have as many as I use to. My mom had insisted on getting me a professional hairstyle before we came to the Hamptons so I knew my hair looked better than it ever had. It was pulled back in a ponytail right now since I’d been going to play tennis, but it still looked good.

My teeth were straight thanks to the braces and retainers I’d worn for over four years. I was grateful for my mother’s sacrifice to do that for me. When I’d thanked her, she’d simply said it was something she wanted to do. Her teeth weren’t the straightest, and she knew I’d always be self-conscious about mine if we didn’t get them fixed. After my braces were paid for, I’d finally convinced her to try those plastic ones they advertised on television. Surprisingly, they worked pretty well.

My hair was good. My teeth were straight. I had even inherited my grandmother’s complexion. Yes, I was white as a ghost in the dead of winter, but I could tan to a nice pale brown if I took it slow. My appearance below the neck was what had me wanting to get away from this man as fast as possible.

Big girl, remember?

As if he sensed my agitation was going to go nuclear, he stepped back, putting some much needed space between us.

“How about some more?”

I didn’t trust my trembling hand to pass him the heavy crystal pitcher. I didn’t like using the thing. It was heavy for one thing, and I was sure it cost more than my biology book last semester, which had put a big dent in my savings. A full ride to college didn’t necessarily mean everything was paid for. Under normal circumstances—where my mother wasn’t married to a fucking millionaire, still couldn’t believe that was real—I’d be working as a waitress or a sales clerk from May until September, fatting up my bank account. “Oh, help yourself.”

When he reached for the lemonade, I scooted out beneath his arms to stand several feet away. “Our parents won’t be home until later. Are you hungry?”

He smiled at me and leaned back against the counter, his lemonade in his hand. He looked as if he knew exactly how much he had rattled me and why I’d made the reference to our parents. Emphasis on
our
.

“I could eat.”

I immediately went to the refrigerator and started grabbing things. I hadn’t lied when I said my mother liked to cook. I was a good cook, too. I’d had to learn how to make the most of what we had. Not that I’d grown up poor, but we were certainly lower middle class. My real father had died in the service when I was a baby. My mother had managed to stretch the benefits she’d received as a widow a long way. When combined with her teacher’s salary, our life had been decent.

Glancing at Cage, I pulled out another bowl from the fridge. The guy was huge. No doubt the food budget would double now that he was here. In minutes, I had some warmed up lasagna, salad, and freshly toasted garlic bread set out before him. The breakfast bar in the kitchen could easily sit six so there was plenty of room.

I’d told him the truth, our parents—my mom and his dad—wouldn’t be home until later. “I’m sure they would have been here if they’d known you were coming tonight.” I knew his father had heard back from the law firm that had contacted Cage several weeks ago. They’d told him the plane ticket and money he’d sent had been returned. I knew Horace had given up hope at the point.

I’m not sure what I would have done in Cage’s position. To suddenly be confronted with a father who you’d never known. It had to be tough. Especially, for a man.

I watched as he took a healthy serving of everything. He was about to start eating when he looked up at me.

“Where’s your plate?”

“I’ll eat later.”

Instead of saying anything else, he rose to his feet. In seconds, a plate and fork appeared before me. He must have remembered where everything was stored. It had taken me days of opening and closing cabinets to find everything in the big kitchen. “Sit down and eat.”

I wanted to argue—I’m not use to anyone bossing me around. My mother and I had a working partnership, more friends than mother and daughter really. She’d married young, been widowed young and we’ve kind of grown up together. I was certainly not use to anyone giving me orders, especially men. I took one look at his face and decided it wasn’t worth the hassle to say no again.

I loaded my plate with everything but the bread. Bread was my downfall and I hadn’t made enough for him and me. Did I mention his appetite was as huge as his body? We ate for several minutes and I was surprised how at ease I felt with him. If I had been with any other boy, I would have been pushing my food around on my plate only pretending to eat.

With Cage, I found myself reaching for another portion of the lasagna.

“So, little Sis, where am I sleeping? Do we have to share bunk beds? If so, I’m on top.”

CAGE

To my—and my cock’s—delight, Abby’s mouth gaped open at my comment. Was the thought of sharing a bed and me being on top of her arousing? Her shirt was thick and she must have had on a padded bra because I couldn’t see any outward signs of arousal. Somehow, I knew if I could get my hands down her pants, I’d find some evidence. Like a smooth, wet pussy? Did she shave? I wasn’t particular. Some men were, but then some men didn’t like to go down on women. I considered it one of my best skills, to make a woman come on my tongue.

I wondered how long it would take me to make Abby scream my name and cream my face.

“Umm, no. You have your own room.” She stumbled over her words and pushed her plate away. I frowned. She needed to eat. Before I could tell her, she jumped up and started putting away the leftovers. I finished off her lasagna and gathered up the dishes. I’d spent too many nights not knowing when my next meal would be to waste food.

She scooted away from me when I joined her at the sink. I grabbed the detergent and ran some hot water in the sink. I was pretty self-sufficient and had the dishes done in a few minutes.

Drying my hands on a towel, I asked, “Now what?

ABBY

I really shouldn’t have been surprised by what Cage said about the bunk beds and him being on top. I had a feeling he’d be saying outlandish things to me the entire summer. The only problem was that I didn’t know how long I could hold out against his wit and charm when everything he said and did held more than a hint of sexual heat.

In a flash, I could see him in my virginal white bed, his tanned and tatted body spread across the silk of my comforter. With me by his side. Or better yet, leaning over him about to take his cock into my mouth.

Was it just hormones? I’d always been the good girl, the straight A student. Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes. It did seem like fate somehow that this boy—man—had been thrown at my feet. Mine for the taking.

Was it time to strip away my inhibitions?