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

  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?

  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.