Stepbrother Billionaire(16)
He kisses me again, his hands roving all over my body. My back arches as he cups my breasts through my thin cotton tee shirt, letting his thumbs brush over my hard nipples. As he kneads and caresses me, a low, pulsing pressure starts to build in my core. I can’t remember the last time I got off without my handy dandy vibrator. It’s been ages since I’ve hooked up with anyone, and the intensity of the pleasure Emerson is bestowing on me is almost too much to bear.
Almost.
“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” I sigh, letting my head fall back against the couch cushions. “You have no idea, Emerson...”
“Oh, I think I do,” he chuckles, pressing his hips against me, letting me feel that staggering length. “Is that the secret you were going to trade me for?”
“W-what?” I stammer, my eyes springing open.
“You know. A secret for a secret. Like we said,” Emerson clarifies, propping himself up on his forearms.
“Oh,” I say softly, feeling the wonderful peace this evening has brought slipping away as the moment of my big reveal approaches. “Um. No, I—”
“Shit,” he mutters, brushing a lock of hair away from my face, “I’m sorry. I’m totally killing the mood, here. I can’t be trusted not to f*ck up something as awesome as this.”
“You haven’t f*cked anything up,” I insist, but it’s too late. I can already see his expression darkening. I need to backpedal, right things before it’s too late. Deep Dark Secrets can wait for a spell. I need to show him that we’re on the same page. And like Emerson says, better to show than tell. Without a word, I reach for his belt buckle, whipping it open with a metallic clank. Emerson’s eyes go wide as I slowly ease down the zipper of his jeans. I guide him onto his back, climbing on top of him as I work to release his member from his jeans. His hardness strains against the thick denim, ready to burst through—
We both sit bolt upright as the sound of keys in the front door lock ring through the empty house. Giddy giggles sound from beyond the door as Emerson and I look at each other in abject horror. No more playing house for us. Deb and Dad are home.
“Shit,” Emerson fumes, buckling in his staggering erection and covering his lap with a throw pillow. “Fucking shit.”
“It’s OK. They’ll never know,” I assure him, smoothing down my hair. “How would they ever even guess, right? I’ll still be right down the hall, you know. This isn’t over.”
We trade wary smiles as the front door bursts open. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that our parents are absolutely trashed. My dad all but carries Deb over the threshold, humming some sort of ridiculous—vaguely familiar—marching tune. But taking a closer look, it’s plain to see that they’re just excited, not drunk at all. Thank god for that. A two-for-one relapse is not what we need right now.
“Abby! Emerson!” Deb squeals, kicking her high-heeled feet in the air as Dad spins her around the foyer. “I’m so glad you’re both here!”
“You seem...glad,” Emerson says, his brow furrowed as he takes in the sight of our giggling parents. “What’s, uh...what’s going on with you two?”
“Did you win the lottery or something?” I wager a guess, trying not to think of what would have happened had they come home just a few seconds earlier.
“We did win the lottery, in a way,” my dad beams, setting Deb down at last.
Emerson and I trade baffled looks, overwhelmed by our parents’ behavior, and the bizarre turn this evening has taken. Between our mutual confessions and whatever’s going on with Dad and Deb, I, for one, can’t seem to get my bearings.
“You tell them the good news, Baby,” my dad urges Deb, wrapping an arm around her slender waist.
“OK Honey Bear,” she squeals, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Abby, Emerson. Bob and I...Well. Let’s just say we finally figured out what to get you guys for your birthdays.”
“And what’s...that?” Emerson asks cautiously.
In answer, Deb simply holds her left hand up for us to take a gander at. For a split second, I’m totally at a loss. That is, before I catch the sparkly glimmer shining off her ring finger. There on her hand is a rock the size of Rhode Island. An engagement ring, by the looks of it. The implications of her new accessory wallop me as I sit beside Emerson, staring in horrified silence.
Deb’s wearing an engagement ring.
“We’re going to get you each a brand new sibling! We’ll be one big, happy family at last!” she cries ecstatically.
“What the f*ck are you talking about?” Emerson says, springing to his feet. Safe to say any lingering evidence of our blissful excitement is long gone.
“Bob and I are going to get married, sweetie!” Deb goes on, her smile wavering. “We didn’t want to upstage your eighteenth birthdays, though, so we’re going to wait until the weekend after.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Emerson snarls, his face turning bright red. “Remind me to make sure and nominate you for Mother of the Year.”
“Stop it,” Deb says, her eyes filling with angry tears. “You don’t get to ruin this moment for me. You’re going to be happy for me, Emerson. For once in your goddamn life.”
“Yeah. I don’t really see that happening,” Emerson scoffs, his walls and defenses springing back into place.