He's So Fine (A BBW Stepbrother Romance) (4 page)

Even if I didn’t choose Cage to go all wild and crazy with, there was Danny, or probably any one of the other boys in the group that had seemed to form so quickly that first week I was here. I wasn’t stupid enough—even though I was plenty naive—to believe that it would be more than a pity fuck by any of them. Danny and the boys would be angling for an invitation to meet my new stepfather so they could network with a millionaire cardiac surgeon. Wouldn’t that look good on the reference page of their resumes?

And Cage. Looking into his blue eyes, I could almost believe he might fuck me simply because he wanted to. But then again, he probably wanted to fuck anything wearing a skirt.

I was about to tell him which room was his when my mother walked in, looking over her shoulder and laughing at something Horace had said.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Horace.” I smiled tightly at both of them.

I sensed rather than saw Cage’s body stiffen behind me. And despite his bad boy persona and the way he’d been trying to bait me all evening, my heart went out to him. His body language projected insolence and cockiness. I realized right then that there was more to him than met the eye and that his tough exterior hid his softer side brilliantly.

“Cage. I can’t believe you’re here.” My new stepdad walked crossed the room with his hand out. Cage straightened as he neared and shook his hand.

“Horace.”

I wanted to roll my eyes as he greeted his father. Again, with the insolence. I didn’t pretend to know anything about what had transpired in Cage’s life that had led to his father never knowing about him. I did, however, know what it felt like to have a loving parent in your life. I hoped that Cage could open himself up enough to enjoy the experience.

I wasn’t really surprised to see the moisture in Horace’s eyes. I sensed his sadness and regret at Cage’s behavior. Just from the little time I’d spent with the man, I knew him to be a caring individual. I didn’t think my mother would have married anyone who wasn’t.

“Cage, this is my mother Julie.” I introduced the two and was happy to see Cage’s demeanor change. Maybe. Was it just natural for him to flirt with anything that carried the Y chromosome?

“I can see where Abby got her good looks.”

My eyes were going to be permanently rolled back in my head if Cage didn’t stop his cheesy and predictable behavior. For the second time in her life, my mother fell victim to the Montgomery charm. I, on the other hand, was far from falling.

I thought.

“Are you two still hungry? I could order pizza.” For such a big man, Horace had a low, modulated voice. One would expect him to be loud and boisterous from his size. So, okay, maybe I had already fallen a little for the Montgomery charm. My new stepdad was a very attractive man.

Like his son.

“Pizza is not the end all, be all, darling.” My mother laughed and laid her hand on her new husband’s arm. Immediately his hand cupped hers. I loved the way they constantly touched each other as if they couldn’t help themselves. I sighed deeply. That’s what I wanted, I reminded myself.

Not the sex-on-the-stick standing in front of me.

Silence again. A little less awkward this time.

Cage looked at me and winked. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to turn in now. That bus ride was long and bumpy. Sis here was about to show me where I’d be sleeping tonight.”

“Right, right.” Horace quickly agreed, but I could tell he was disappointed not to spend more than five minutes with his newly discovered son. “Do you mind showing him, Abby?”

“No, not at all.” I slipped from the bar stool where I’d retreated right before my mother had entered. I was surprised when Cage put out a steadying hand when I wobbled on my feet. The stools were too high for me to make a graceful dismount. “I’ll put everything away when I come back down, Mom.” Cage had washed the dishes, but the food hadn’t been returned to the refrigerator.

“Nonsense. Why don’t you turn in, too? You’ve had a busy day I’m sure.”

My mother was wrong. I hadn’t had a busy day and I wasn’t tired at all. I’d done nothing more strenuous than make myself a sandwich for lunch. Did I mention that summer in the Hamptons was boring? “Your room’s upstairs.” I walked into the hallway, assuming Cage would follow.

The layout of the house—or the cottage as Horace liked to call it—was simple. Of course, who called a three-thousand square foot house a cottage? Rich dudes like Horace. If I admitted it to myself, I was still in a state of shock how my mother’s life, and by association, mine, had changed since she’d remarried.

Mother and Horace’s bedroom was on the first floor, taking up half of the floor space. Upstairs were three more bedrooms, two of which were mine and Cage’s. The guest room was decorated the same as ours—light and airy, beachy—and was always ready for guests thanks to the cleaning service that came in once a week. Horace had another service that shopped for groceries and any other supplies we needed. My mother only had to worry about any fresh vegetables she wanted for her recipes. A local farmer’s market was only a couple of miles away and she and Horace went shopping there every Saturday.

I opened the door to the first room at the top of the stairs. I’d gotten to choose mine when we’d first arrived. I’d chosen the smallest of the three, something about all that space making me uncomfortable. Maybe I had a phobia or something. I just knew I liked my bedroom to be nice and cozy. Horace had offered to let me redecorate my room by I’d chosen not to. It was, indeed, almost perfect. I’m sure he’d make the same offer to Cage. “This is your room.”

On our way upstairs, Cage had picked up the backpack he’d left by the front door. He laid it on the bed and took a seat on the edge of the mattress. It was higher than a normal bed, but he had no problem sitting down and his feet still touched the ground. I had to use a step stool to get in and out of mine. Being short, sucked sometimes.

“There’s towels and toothpaste and shampoo—”

He held up a hand to stop me from talking. Immediately my mind imagined another way he could stop me from talking. It involved his cock.

Bad, bad, girl Abigail Snow.

“I get the picture. He bought at the local drugstore.” He leaned back on his elbows. “I’m sure he did the same for you and your mom. His new family.”

The sarcasm in his voice rubbed me the wrong way. “Look, if it wasn’t for my mom, you wouldn’t even be here. She’s the one that insisted your dad look for you and—”

Oh, shit,
I cursed to myself when I realize what I’d just said and watched as Cage’s face went hard as stone. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, really?” His left eyebrow rose, the one with the start of the silver scar that ran across his temple to disappear into his hairline. It made me want to follow the thin line with my tongue to see where it ended. “You didn’t mean to say that my fucking father knew about me and decided to leave me to be raised by a strung-out mother and then stranger after fucking stranger?”

His voice was thick with an emotion I had no idea how to deal with. Rage. Disappointment. Humiliation? What should I say? What could I say?

Had Horace known about Cage all along? I didn’t know all of the story, had never felt it was my place to ask. But, if he had known and he’d chosen not to try and find his child until twenty-five years later … well, that meant my new stepfather was a piece of shit. Before I could tell Cage how I felt, he was speaking.

“I guess that makes your mother a fucking saint, now doesn’t it? Insisting her new husband find his bastard son and bring him into the family fold.”

CAGE

I kept my causal position on the edge of the bed as Abby stormed out the door. Not that I could blame her. I’d been a first class asswipe with that comment about her mom. I leaned back on the bed—the softest that I’d ever felt—and stared at the ceiling. Had my father known about my birth? Had he left me in the hands of strangers? Never knowing if I was warm, or safe, or fed?

They say you don’t really have memories until after the age of six. I didn’t think that was true. I remembered my mother and our life before that age and it wasn’t good. I remembered my stomach hurting because I was so hungry. I remembered my reflection in a window. I’m not sure which one had been dirtier—the window or my face.

If I calculated the timeline correctly, Horace would have already graduated from college, maybe even been in his first year of medical school when he’d met my mother. I guess I should be grateful he hadn’t developed his own set of rules—no coat, no pussy. If he had, I wouldn’t be here right now contemplating my life.

And trying to figure out how I could piss my stepsister off even more.

Yeah, I’d found my father—a man who, for some reason, had allowed his second wife to guilt him into finding me. There wasn’t anything I wanted from the old fart. I paid my own way, made my own rules. I didn’t need him for anything.

But my stepsister … now that was another matter.

I rubbed my hand down the front of my jeans. Thinking about her had me hard and aching. Sitting up, I decided I’d stay here, in the fucking Hamptons, for a while. It still made me laugh thinking of where fate had taken me. No use kicking a gift horse in the mouth. I’d stay for a few days. Eat the old man’s food, drink some of his liquor, and see if I couldn’t score some of that pussy I knew was waiting for me down the hall.

Whistling, I stripped off my clothes and climbed onto the bed, pushing the covers out of the way. Taking myself in hand, I closed my eyes and pictured what Abby looked like without her clothing. How her long black hair would spill over my thighs as I ordered her to suck me dry. In minutes, I was reaching for some of the tissues in a decorative box on the bedside table.

Now, that was when you knew you’d hit the big time. When you had tissue at hand to catch the cum as it erupted from your dick.

ABBY

I hurried down the hallway to my room that was thankfully several yards away from Cage’s. My body burned. His comments should have made the desire for him go away. Instead, the bad boy attitude had called to something inside me. I was antsy and hot, almost like I had a fever. Not knowing anything else to do, I stripped out of my clothes to take a shower.

“Shit,” I mumbled as I stepped into the bathroom. I hurried across the room, my arms covering my breasts and my hand cupping my pussy. I’d forgotten that I had a Jack and Jill bathroom—and guess who I was sharing it with?

My new stepbrother. I sighed in relief when I was able to lock the door without any incident. The bathroom was huge, more than room enough for two people to share comfortably. Not that it was ever going to happen. Ever.

Turning on the water, I didn’t wait until it heated up. Weren’t cold showers supposed to suppress an overactive libido?

“Fuck,” I cursed as I stepped inside the shower and the cold spray hit me full in the chest. I quickly adjusted the temperature until it was almost as hot as usual. That was as much of a cold shower as I was willing to have. Plus, I didn’t think it was going to do any good.

My desire for Cage was unprecedented. It was as if all my girly parts had suddenly sat up and said
he’s the one, he’s the one
. Not that I’d had a lot of offers, but I could have had my V-card stamped a time or two. I’d never heard any good stories about how wonderful a girl’s first time was so I hadn’t really been in much of a hurry. Of course, I’d never talked to a girl who’d had Cage in their bed.

I’d seen boys like him before. They thought they were all that shit. Most times it was all hype. I had a feeling that Cage was all that. And more. Turning off the water, I stepped out and dried myself off. There were many perks to being the stepdaughter of a rich surgeon. I thought having these thick bath towels—no, wait, they weren’t called towels, they were called bath sheets—was the best thing ever.

Besides the soft, fluffiness of the material, they actually fit around my wide frame with fabric left over.

It was heaven.

I quickly combed my wet hair and dried it the best I could. It took forever to dry and I usually wound up going to school with it half wet. Tonight, I decided to braid it. I slipped on a nightshirt and a pair of loose cotton panties. I’ve had both for years, and they are worn and comfy as hell.

I pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. My body was still hot, my thoughts still churning. Don’t ever believe that girls don’t think about sex as often as boys do. Or that we don’t like it as much. We’re just not as overt about it. Well, some girls were. Like Tiffany and Barbara Ann. They flaunted their bodies like lollipops—offering themselves up for a good lick.

Mean, I know, but true. And who’s not to say I might not act exactly like them if I had their rocking bodies. No, I don’t swing that way, but I was honest enough to acknowledge they were beautiful. On the outside at least. Despite the urban legends, not all girls experiment in college. I certainly had no intention. No, my fantasies revolved around a man like Cage.

My hand slipped down and I touched myself. I wasn’t surprised to find myself slick with need. I immediately zeroed in on my clit. Pressing my fingers inside my pussy didn’t do it for me. I think I was one of those women who couldn’t orgasm without some clitty stimulation. Preferably, with a man’s tongue. I’d never had a boy go down on me. But I wanted to. Oh, yeah, I wanted to I thought as I imagined Cage between my legs. I bet he knew exactly what to do. I could almost feel the broad stroke of his rough tongue as he licked me.