Romance: Stepbrother Passion (2 page)

Chapter Three

It is one week until I leave for college and Mel is coming over.

She wants to plan what our dorm room will look like. I still cannot get my head around the fact that we both ended up getting into NYU. It will just be like living here in Florissant, Missouri, only with complete freedom. And sorority parties. And alcohol. And boys.

LOTS of boys.

“Ella, Mel’s here!” Mom calls up the stairs, seconds before Mel pokes her head around the corner.              

“Hey girlfriend! Ready to talk interior decorating?”

I grin and point to the stack of magazines I bought from the store earlier. “Sure am. Get over here girl!”

“Awesome. Oh and here’s a little something to get the party started!” Mel says eagerly, reaching into the satchel she has brought with her. “Ta da!”

A bottle of vodka appears followed by a DVD.

“Dirty Dancing, seriously?” I sigh. “Do you know how cliché you look right now?”

“Oh come on,” Mel teases, flashing a wide grin. “You know you love it. No one puts Dirty Dancing in the corner!”              

I cough, “*Lame*”

“Whatever, Ell. Just go get us some cups so we can drink this already! Oh and a mixer. Do you think your Mom has anything?”

“I’ll check the fridge, but probably just OJ.  Now stay here and hide that. Mom will freak if she sees it.”

Mel and I spend the next hour leafing through the magazines. We finally decide on lemon curtains, two white Manhattan chairs and a Persian rug almost the size of my bedroom.             

“Shall I pour us another?” Mel asks, already refilling the cups.

“Hell yeah,” I say, woozy from the first two. “It’s our last Sunday before college. Let’s do it!” As Mel continues to top us up, we both turn our ears to the sound of raised voice coming in through the open window.

“Who is that?” Mel asks, peeking out.

“Oh it’s probably just Dylan and another one of his floozies.”

“Get out! Oh wait I see them now. Wow, that girl looks drunk!”

I quickly bounce over to look too.

It is a Dylan regular. A brunette with model-like legs and petite denim shorts.

“Poor girl,” I joke, taking a sip.

“So he does this kind of thing a lot?”              

“Yeah. The suckers keep coming back too. I see
her
here all the time.”

“The suckers? Is that some sort of sexual reference?” she laughs.

“No,” I bite back. “I meant the gullible ones keep coming back.”

“Seriously? Why do they come back?”

“Who knows? I guess she thinks he’s some kind of an Adonis…or something?”

“Well that’s true. He is F-I-N-E.” Mel seductively licks her lips. “But come on, the girls who fall for him must be totally lacking in confidence. He is clearly just using them. I mean can you imagine what a sucky boyfriend he would be? Or father for that matter? He needs to be careful. He could knock someone up. Man, my Mom would die if that ever happened to me.”

“Same,” I say. “My Mom would never forgive me. But Dylan’s not all bad you know? He can be sensitive.”

Mel sniggers. “Dylan McCormack? Mr. Womaniser? Mr. I’m-Destined-for-Prison? Sensitive my ass.”

I grab a pillow from the bed and whack her. “You’re hilarious. But, like I said, he has a softer side.”

“Okay,” Mel says, clearly humoring me. “When did you see this ‘sensitive’ side?”

“The other night.”

“Um hello? If that’s true why haven’t I been told about it?”

“I’m telling you now,” I retort sarcastically.

“Whatever. Just get on with the story.”

“Okay Miss Pushy. I had a fight with Tony and I was upset and Dylan was nice to me about it. End of story.”

Mel eyes widen with suspense. “So did you guys kiss?”

“No! We just talked.”

“Boring,” she frowns, obviously disappointed. “I thought you were going to give me something juicer than that, Ell.”

I poke out my tongue and turn back to the window.

The brunette has gone.

I watch Dylan disappear back into the pool house, secretly glad that he is single again. In my blissful tipsiness I fantasize about being one of those girls. I wonder what it would feel like to have his arms tight around me, to kiss his faultless lips, to stare again into those faraway eyes that always make me go weak.

“You’ve got it bad, girl,” Mel chuckles, mockingly. “Crushing on your stepbrother, I’m sure that’s illegal somewhere. Besides, don’t you have a date with Tyler this weekend? That guy has loved you since like the fifth grade.”

“Argh, don’t remind me,” I groan, breaking away from my thoughts.

“Then why did you say yes?”

“I did it out of pity. He was just so sweet when he asked. And we’re going soon, so it’s not like anything is going to become of it.”

Mel fakes a smile. “Well, good luck with that.”

For the rest of the night we finish drinking the vodka and watch Dirty Dancing.

I have never really been into Patrick Swayze, and it could just be the vodka talking, but tonight I kind of dig him. He is strangely attractive. His butt in that leotard is… kind of hot.

I kind of see what Baby sees now.

But the harder I try to focus on the movie, the more my thoughts wander back to Dylan.

I cannot help but think about all the girls I have seen him with and how I would measure up in comparison.

Is this what I have come to?

Is Mel right? Do I have it bad for Dylan McCormack?

Chapter Four

It is after midnight and the last box for college is all taped up.

The date with sweet Tyler was over quickly. He smiled pleasantly, talked nicely and complimented me in all the right moments. He is a nice guy but the chemistry just wasn’t there. I made it clear to him that this was the end of any dating and wished him luck in the future. And I gave him a nice kiss on the cheek after he dropped me back at home.

I think he almost melted in that moment.

In all honesty, I just could not stop thinking about Dylan and our conversation on the stairs.

There was something deeper about it all, something deeper about him.

Outside, the rain heavily pelts against the house. Staring out my window, I see Dylan’s room glow like an orb in the darkness.

I am surprised he is even home. Saturday nights are usually reserved for a party followed by a hookup. I think about the brunette with the denim shorts, sick with envy about the way Dylan probably thinks about her.

But then again I have seen more girls traipsing through the backyard in the last few days than the entire time I have been living here. Something has to be up with that. I decide that tonight is my last chance to talk to him, my last chance to stop being the shy and insecure girl-next-door I have always been.

I swiftly make my way across the lawn covered in darkness, my head tucked under my jacket to protect me from the pelting rain, and I reach his pool house in only a matter of seconds. Inside, I hear the muffled sound of music and realize that he might not be alone.

Crap!

How could I have been so stupid as to not think of that?

I think about turning back, about my dry, safe bedroom back inside the house and all the other boys I will meet in college.

But it is too late.

Dylan opens the door.

“What the hell, Ella? Get in here, you’re soaked!”

He grabs me by the arm and pulls me inside.

“I’m sorry,” I say, shivering. “I was going to knock and then I thought…”

“Here,” he says, cutting me off. “Dry yourself off.”

He passes me a towel and then turns down the stereo. Creedence Clearwater Revival’s
Bad Moon Risin
g hums faintly.

“This song reminds me of you,” I say, smiling.

“I heard you had a date?” Dylan asks me bluntly.

“I did, but I bailed early. I had too much packing to do.”

Dylan nods indifferently.

I feel my chance slipping away.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” I say, fighting the nerves. “I mean, I just wanted to see you. I’m leaving tomorrow and if I never…if we never…” I expect him to start flirting in his usual Dylan-style way, but his expression stays solemn.

“You shouldn’t be in here, Ella.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust myself with you.”

“But I’m not asking you to,” I blurt.

It comes out even as a surprise to me.

But Dylan shakes his head.

I feel my heart sinking.

“Look, you can’t stay,” he says, firmer.

“Why? Am I not pretty enough for you? Am I not slutty enough?”

“No, Ella. That’s not it at all. I think you’re gorgeous.”

“What then?”

“If you stay I…” He pauses, looking down at the floor and then back up. “I might not let you leave tomorrow.”

“Then I won’t.”

“And what, Ella? Hang around here in this damned retirement village of a town? Get a job waitressing at some diner or my Dad’s donuts store?”

I do not know what to say.

Silence falls between us.

“We’re from two different worlds,” he finally says.

“That’s not true,” I stammer.             

“Look you’re smart. You have a future. You have the grades for college. You deserve better.”              

“But I want you.”

The words just jump out of my mouth.

And as soon as I say them, Dylan stares at me in shock.

I can almost see the thoughts going through his head. He is considering my statement as his eyes wander over my body.

“And I’ll only hurt you,” he turns away.

“You won’t,” I protest, knowing that he probably will and yet still wanting him in all his shades.

Rough, sensitive, confident and vulnerable.

I get knots in my stomach just thinking about us together.

“Besides, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to take the risk.”

He looks me up and down like he is undressing me with his eyes. Then he closes the gap between us.

Oh…

My heart is pounding firm as he presses against me.

His lips land on mine and he takes what he wants.

He kisses me hard and fast, taking away my breath. I kiss him back with a mirrored intensity only to feel something in him shift.

He changes, kissing me softer and slower.

He leads me back toward the bed, sitting down so that I am standing in front of him.             

“Take off your clothes,” he orders. “I want to see you first.”

I stare at him sheepishly yet find myself obeying, stripping down to only my underwear. The music stops. The rain drums wildly on the roof.             

“All of you,” he says sternly.

“Can’t we just…make out for a while first?” I ask, fidgeting nervously.             

“I thought you said you wanted this?”

“I did. I do. It’s just…”

“What, Ella? I don’t have all night.”

“I’ve never done this before okay!” I snap.

The outburst unnerves him, his feet shifting uncomfortably on the carpet.

“You’re a virgin?”

I nod.

Embarrassed.

“Look, maybe I should just go.”

“No,” he says, taking my hand as I turn to leave. “We’ll just take it slow. I don’t want some college guy to…”

But he never finishes the sentence.

Instead, he guides me down onto the bed and kisses me again, his hands wandering over my body. He lifts up my bra, cupping my small breasts softly, until he feels me flinching beneath his touch.

He reaches around and unclasps my bra, draping it over the edge of the bed.             

“Close your eyes,” Dylan murmurs and I do, completely submitting as I revel in the sensation of his mouth around my nipples, sucking and biting them gently.

I feel my pants dampen, an ache between my legs that I cannot control. His lips traverse lower, brushing over my navel before they stop to hover over my bikini line.

He slips off my panties, looking at me as he slides them up and over my knees.

“You smell so good, Ella,” he says breathing onto my clit, and then he engulfs it entirely.

I cry out at how incredible it feels.

It is like nothing I have ever felt before.

He prods and swirls it around with his tongue, my climax building as he varies the pace.

I moan when he grips my thighs tighter and I finally explode into ecstasy, gasping for air as the room becomes blurry and I am left shaking.

“Dylan, that was…” I begin to say, but he is already taking off his shirt, his erection bulging toward me through his jeans.

He takes my hands and helps me slide off his jeans.

I see his cock in all its glory: long, thick and circumcised, a purple vein bulging down one side.

Wow…

“This might hurt,” he states.

I nod and let him climb on top of me.

I feel the weight of him, the hardness, the stinging each time he presses further in.

I close my eyes and try to think of something else beyond the pain until finally he breaks through and the thrusts become deeper.

“Are you all right?” he asks tenderly, the dark hazel eyes searing into mine.

“I’m okay,” I breathe.

“I’m going to keep going,” he states firmly.

“Yes.”

I feel myself tingling and relax.

I let my pussy swallow him whole, enjoying the rougher pulses, the nerve endings bursting within. I see him change and flush.

His breaths get louder, heavier.

“Look at me when I cum, Ella. Don’t turn away,” Dylan huffs and then he is peaking, driving me harder one last time before he blows and collapses, breathless on top of me.

We lie here for minutes, just stillness and rain.

“That was something else,” he finally groans, moving to the other side of the bed.

I smile proudly, still swooning over how amazing my body feels.

But tomorrow looms ahead like an unsettled forecast and I cannot help but give fire to this love-like feeling.

I imagine endless rainy nights enfolded in bed and silly things like holding hands down the street and kissing in public, announcing to everyone that we are together. Turning away I try to fight the tears.

The thought of leaving tomorrow is almost unbearable.

****

The next morning Dylan is gone.

A note sits on the pillow along with my clothes: ‘Good luck with college. Come visit soon’.

I blink in disbelief, turning it over again and again, expecting to find something more.

I cannot believe that he did this.

That he not even stay to say goodbye.

That he could think so little of me, like I was just another one of ‘those’ girls.

Does he realize how big this night was to me? Does he realize what it meant?

What a jerk!

I quickly swipe at the tear running down my cheek and vow that it is the last I will ever shed over a guy.

Dylan was right when he said we were from two different worlds.

I was just too foolish and love drunk to see it.

Well, to hell with Dylan McCormack!

And to hell with a visit!

Who knows how many girls he will have had in his bed by then.

Who wants a deadbeat for a boyfriend anyway?