Stepbrother Untouchable (15 page)

His other hand glides up my stomach and slips under my bra
cup. I moan as I feel his calloused palm against my nipple. He pulls his mouth
away quickly and leans his torso back. His fingers brush against the front of
my bra for a moment, and then I feel his deft fingers unhook the front closure
of my new bra. I feel my breasts spring out, and his thumbs brush against my
nipples as he cups them in his hands. He begins to massage them more strongly,
and suddenly I feel him sucking my right nipple into my mouth. He flicks his
tongue across it as he sucks, then moves to my other side.

“I'm ready,” I moan.

“Uh-uh, not yet,” he replies, pulling my breast out of his
mouth for a moment. Then he begins to trail kisses down my stomach, pausing for
a moment to circle his tongue in my belly button. I feel him graze his fingers
across the narrow strips of fabric on the sides of my panties. “I like these
very much,” he murmurs. “Maybe we'll try to keep these on.”

Then he's gone. I hear the sounds of what could be his shirt
being pulled over his head, but I can't be sure. There's silence for another
minute, and I'm suspended in this pool of pleasure where he's left me,
completely under his control.

I gasp as I feel him blow a stream of warm breath against my
panties and feel my body shake involuntarily. His hands run up my thighs and
then under the sides of my underwear, and I know he must be kneeling in front
of me. I feel him slowly dip one finger under the right side of my panties,
pulling them away from my body and tucking them to the other side. He blows on
me again, and now his breath hits my clit directly.

“Spread your legs,” he commands me quietly. I obey, inching
myself out on my high heels. His tongue slides into my slit and I cry out.

“Oh, Nate,” I moan, and he begins to flick his tongue back
and forth across me. I unravel quickly, and he begins to speed up, circling his
tongue rapidly. But just as I'm on the brink, my body arching as much as it
can, he slows down again. I whimper. He doesn't stop completely, but he's not
going fast enough to bring me release.

His right hand slips over my ass, under the fabric of my
panties. I gasp as he slips one finger inside me. I've never had anything
back
there.
He circles it inside me, mirroring his actions with his tongue. Once
I get over my surprise at the foreign feeling, I find that I like it. On top of
everything that he's already done to me, and is still doing, it's driving me
right toward the edge again.

I moan as he slips two fingers from his other hand inside my
opening, making a beckoning motion against my g-spot. I feel a spasm begin to
rip through my body, but he pulls his mouth away completely. My knees almost
buckle at the empty feeling he's left behind.

“Nate…” I protest. He leans back in, flicking his tongue
once, hard, over my clit. My body ripples in response. The pleasure has built
up inside me to such an extent that being unable to let go of it feels painful.
I
need
him to let me come.

“Yes?” he answers innocently, and tortures me with another
hard flick of his tongue, his fingers still circling slowly inside me.

“Please…” The pleasure is overloading my brain, and I can
barely think.

“Please what?”

“I need you…please. I need you inside me right now. Please,
I'm begging you. I'm begging you, Nate.”

I almost faint with relief as he takes his fingers out of me
and I hear the sound of a condom being ripped open. He steps into me and grabs
one of my legs, wrapping it around his waist as he thrusts into me. I cry out
at the contact. He drives in hard, slamming me against the bed post, and on
just his second thrust, I feel my orgasm finally releasing through me as he
presses into me again and again. His mouth covers mine as the last waves of
pleasure crest over me. Even though I'm exhausted, I can feel that he's still
hard inside me.

I feel him reach behind me, and realize that he's unknotting
the t-shirt around my hands. My arms drop to my sides, and he pulls out of me.
I feel him taking my hips and turning me, then he presses one hand roughly down
on my back and I realize he's pressing my top half down onto the mattress. I
turn my head to the side so I can breathe as he pulls my panties, still bunched
to one side, to my ankles. His hand still holding me down, I feel him enter me
from behind.

Even though I'm spent from my first orgasm and all the
build-up leading to it, I feel my body begin to respond again. I feel him slide
his thumb into my ass and gasp. I never realized how many nerves endings were
back there.

“Brace yourself,” he warns me, and begins to thrust harder
into me. My fingers search for the edge of the bed and I'm just able to grasp
it as he drives in deeper than he ever has before. He plunges into me again and
again, hitting my g-spot directly every time. A second orgasm takes me by
surprise, as though it was lying dormant until he awoke it. My body arches and
shakes as I feel him pull out of me and a wetness cover my back. As my body
quiets, I hear him hurrying to the bathroom and then him rubbing a tissue on my
back.

“I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that,” he murmurs.

“Hm? Did what?” I mumble, reaching up to remove the
makeshift blindfold from my eyes.

“I…I came on you,” he replies, halting his wiping motions to
look me in the eye.

“Nate…it's OK. It doesn't bother me,” I assure him.

“Really?” he asks, looking relieved. “I've never done that
before, I just…I just wanted to see it on you, or something. I'm worried…I
worry I push you too far.”

“I like what we do together,” I reply, stretching my arms
above my head. “As far as I'm concerned, we're going to do a lot more, so you
better get used to it.”

“Is that so?” he asks, with a smile.

“Yep. Now clean me off. If we're going to do this again
tomorrow night, I need to get some sleep.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The next day, Thornhill and Co. is abuzz with the official
announcement of Mark Broadman becoming a new client. There's talk that other
high-profile investors could follow suit, including some of Broadman's contacts
in Silicon Valley. Apparently the tech crowd is quite interested in influencing
public policy. I'm just glad that everyone is in such a good mood, because it
helps me fit in. My relationship with Nate, not to mention our late night
sessions, has me practically glowing.

Constance talks to me happily in our cubicle, the
awkwardness of our first day of working together having finally melted away
over the summer months. She swivels in her chair and raises her eyebrows at me
as Greg walks by, giving me a small wave. 

“OK, what happened there?” she asks conspiratorially.

“It was nothing,” I assure her, keeping my eyes on my
computer, though I can see out of my periphery that she's still looking at me.

“Oh, come on. I won't tell. But it's obvious…I mean, for a
couple weeks you guys were hanging out a bunch, and now he completely avoids
you.”

I sigh. “We went on a couple dates, and then we decided to
break it off. But please keep it between us, alright?”

“Mmhm,” Constance murmurs, swiveling back around. She can
sense, rightfully so, that I'm not telling her the whole story.

Greg reacted as well as could be hoped when I told him I didn't
want to go on any more dates with him. I blamed the office environment, and
said I had extra pressure on me to be professional as the boss's stepdaughter,
but I think he saw through that excuse. At least he could never guess the real
reason. Now whenever I see him he's polite but standoffish.

I watch the corner of my screen, waiting to see if Allison
will send me a Gchat message, but none arrives. I'll give it a little more
time, and then reach out to her. I don't want to throw our whole friendship away
over my relationship with Nate—not that we don't have some things to talk
about. It's not that I need her approval exactly, but I do need her to stop
judging.

“Lunch,” Constance says, nudging me. I stand up and see
other people making their way to the big conference room. Pierce has had lunch
catered for the whole office to celebrate the new client. As we walk in, I
notice that the temporary wall to the kitchen has been pulled back to make way
for everyone. Pierce and Roderick, his business partner, stand by the buffet,
happily talking with their employees. Pierce smiles at me as Constance and I
make our way up to grab some plates.

“Roderick, you've met my stepdaughter Brynn, right?”

“Yes, good to see you again, Brynn,” Roderick, a
well-dressed man a bit younger than Pierce says, then turns away to shake
someone's hand.

Pierce leans in. “You look particularly beautiful today,
Brynn,” he remarks.

“Oh, thank you, Pierce,” I reply, a bit taken aback.
Constance and I stand around the conference room for a while talking to the
other interns, everyone sharing their plans for once they get back to school,
and the rising seniors, like me, discussing what we'll do after we graduate.
Eventually the crowd begins to thin out, and Constance and I each take a
cupcake back to our cubicle.

“What's that? Vanilla?” she asks. I peer at the frosting.

“I think so, though I heard there were some coconut—” I
break off as my desk phone rings. I look at it in surprise for a second—no one
ever calls me on it—then reach forward to pick it up. “Brynn speaking.”

“Brynn, it's Pierce. Could you come into my office for a
moment?”

“Oh, sure, I'll be right there.” I hang up and stand.
“Pierce,” I explain to Constance. “Probably wants to see if I'll be home for
dinner tonight.” She nods, and I walk down the hallway to his corner office.
“He asked me to—” I explain to his secretary, Gwen.

“Sure, go on in,” she replies, waving me in. I knock softly
as I open the door. He beckons me inside and indicates I should take a seat
across from his desk.

“Brynn, thanks for coming in,” he says, standing and walking
around his desk as he takes his reading glasses off and places them on his
desktop calendar. I look at him curiously as he sits on the edge of his desk in
front of me. “I know that I'm just your stepfather, but I hope that you know
that you can always come to me with any…difficulties.”

“Um, sure. Yes, thanks,” I stumble, surprised by the
direction of the conversation.

He stands and begins to pace behind my chair. “You're a very
beautiful young woman, and I hope that you can see me as a sort of protector.”
I feel him come up and stand behind the chair. I start as he brushes my hair to
the side and I feel his fingers graze against my skin just above the fabric of
my dress. “I couldn't help but notice this,” he says.

“What?” I ask, frowning.

“This bruise,” he explains, still holding my hair to the
side.

“Oh.” My mind races. Shit. I bet I got it last night when
Nate had me up against that bed post, and of course it's not in the sort of
position where I'd see it. “Um, it's nothing. It's probably old, maybe from
when I fell on that hike.”

“I doubt it. I mean, how far does it extend…” I'm horrified
to feel him unzip the top of my dress, all the way down to my bra strap. He
spreads his fingers across my back and a sickening feeling spreads through my
body with them. “Brynn, you have such a beautiful body. You shouldn't be with
someone who treats you with less respect than you deserve.” His fingertips just
touch the top of my bra strap.

“Pierce!” I exclaim, and jump up. “I really don't think this
is appropriate,” I admonish him with as much confidence as I can muster, while
reaching behind myself to pull my zipper up.

“Brynn, I'm just trying to look out for you. You clearly
need a father figure in your life.”

“I'm just fine, thank you very much,” I reply shortly,
glaring at him as I manage to zip my dress. I march to the door, taking a deep
breath to compose myself as I walk through the door. I walk right past my desk
and into the bathroom, quickly locking myself inside a stall. I lower the
toilet seat and sit down, pressing my hands onto my burning cheeks. I know
Pierce's words were saying one thing, but his actions, his touch, were saying
quite another. It just felt wrong.

By the time I sit back down at my desk, I'm already
second-guessing myself. Maybe I misread his behavior; maybe he was just trying
to look out for me, but he's never had a daughter, so he didn't realize he was
making me uncomfortable.

“You OK?” Constance asks over her shoulder.

“I'm fine,” I reply, pushing my uneaten cupcake away. I'm
not hungry anymore.

I manage to make it through the rest of the work day, though
I know that I'll just have to see Pierce at home for dinner. As I drive home, I
wonder if I should say I'm sick or something so I'll be able to just be by
myself in my room. But as I walk in through the garage, my mom calls me into
the kitchen. I carefully spread my hair over my neck to hide the bruises, then
walk in.

“Oh, Brynn, honey, I'm so glad you're home. Come look,” she
gushes, pulling me into the dining room. I see that she's set it with fine
china and crystal, and a massive vase of white lilies sits in the center. “I
thought I'd do something a little special tonight to celebrate. What do you
think?”

“Looks great, Mom,” I reply half-heartedly. If she notices
my downtrodden mood, she doesn't mention it, she just sweeps me back into the
kitchen to show me the extravagant meal she's spent the day preparing.

When Pierce comes home about half an hour later, he quickly enters
his study, calling to us that he has to make a quick call. My mom asks me to
carry the roasted duck out on a silver tray, and I acquiesce, knowing I'd feel
too guilty to fake sick when she's spent so much time on the food. When I walk
back into the kitchen, Pierce is murmuring into my mom's ear as she blushes, so
I quickly back out again.

I hear Nate enter through the front door, and he walks into
the dining room just as I'm leaning on the back of my chair.

“Hey,” he says with a smile. “I was thinking about you—” he
breaks off as my mom and Pierce walk in. Pierce brandishes a bottle of
champagne and walks around filling up our crystal flutes. I step back to give
him a wide berth, and then we all sit down as he finishes filling up his own
glass.

“Cheers,” he says. I avoid his eye contact as we all clink
our glasses. Nate frowns at me slightly and I know he can tell there's
something up. Oh god, I can't even think about talking to him later tonight. He
can always tell when I'm lying, so I don't know what I'm going to say.

“Brynn, did you messenger those envelopes like I asked?”
Pierce says, turning to me.

“Hm?” I ask, startled by his question.

“The envelopes. I wanted to double check because you've
seemed so distracted lately, and they're quite important.”

I frown at him. What the hell? “You didn’t ask me to
messenger anything today, Pierce.”

“Brynn,” he sighs in a patronizing way, setting down his
champagne glass.

“You didn't!” I reply, a little more defensively than I mean
to. I glance at Nate and see him raising his eyebrows at me.

“You know that I did. And it's not like this is the first
time this has happened,” Pierce counters.

“Maybe we should—” my mom breaks in.

“Wait, no,” I say to her, holding up my hand. “I honestly
don't know what you're talking about Pierce.”

“Well, this clearly isn't the time to discuss it, but since
you're pressing me, I've heard from some of your immediate superiors that you
haven't been very responsible.”

“What? Like who? When?”

“Obviously I can't give you exact dates, and I need to
protect their anonymity—”

“Wow. Wow,” I snap, tossing down my napkin. “You are just
making all this up, aren't you?”

“Brynn, calm down,” Nate murmurs from across the table.

“Calm down? Seriously? He's lying!”

“He has no reason to—” Nate argues.

“He damn well does. He called me into his office today and
unzipped my dress, and I told him to back off, and now he's pissed.”

“You know that's because I was worried about those bruises
on your neck, Brynn. Don't get hysterical.”

“You're a liar,” I whisper.

He slams his hand down on the table, causing me to jump. “I
will not be spoken to that way in my own house!”

I glance back and forth at my mom and Nate, speechless. Are
they really just going to sit there staring at me? I stand up so abruptly that
my chair almost falls over backward. I can't take being surrounded by this
bullshit anymore. I walk quickly around the table and then out the front door,
clenching my fists to try to contain my anger until I'm outside.

As I close the door behind me, I pick up my pace, walking
straight down the driveway and out of the gates. The woods rise up quiet and
dark around me as tears of frustration and humiliation begin to stream down my
face. I don't know where I'm going—I just need to get away from that house.

“Hey! Wait!” I hear a woman's voice call out behind me, but
I keep walking. “You're Brynn, right?”

I freeze and take a deep breath before turning around.
“Look, if you're a reporter or something, I'm really not in the mood.” I can
just see her blonde hair reflect the moonlight as she takes a couple steps
closer.

“I'm not a reporter. I'm Nate's mom, Eileen.”