Authors: Astrid Lee Donovan
Her predictions were realized early the next morning, as she found herself flying like a carefree sprite high through a gem blue Vegas sky; her helicopter, a sleek ivory machine that moved forth with lightning speed, seeming in a race with the sun as she and lover soared into the atmosphere.
The man who had reserved this ride consistently thrilled her with kisses and clenches during their 10 minute ride, also consistently annoying her with a mysterious smile as he refused to tell her where they were going.
Soon their copter hovered high above a sparkling waterway whose waters glowed in the rays of the sun; a flowing river bordered by stands of ebullient, emerald hued greenery and boasting the presence of a vessel reserved just for her.
Looming high as a seemingly natural extension of the azure waters beneath it, the palatial yacht shone brightest ivory in the light of the morning rays; its four levels likening to a waterborne manse as they combined to present a stellar portrait of luxury at sea.
Their friendly, silver haired pilot landed them direct on the expansive deck of the Queen Elizabeth I; a stately vessel that floated easy on the streams of what Hamilton identified as the Virgin River.
“This magnificent little waterway actually runs more than 160 miles in length and can be found in Utah, Nevada and Arizona,” Hamilton told her, as always more than eager to show off his extensive ‘rich guy’ knowledge of any given subject. “It’s a tributary of the Colorado River.”
Callie nodded.
“Impressive, I must say,” she acknowledged, clutching his hand in hers. “I tell ya, when Ms. Tina Turner sang about ‘Rollin’ on the River,’ in her song “Proud Mary,” she may have been talking about this very place.”
Hamilton nodded.
“Yes, one indeed can do quite a bit of rolling, or sailing to put it plainer terms, on this river,” he agreed, adding as he leaned inward to whisper in her ear, “Not to mention countless hours of passionate, unbridled lovemaking. I hasten to tell you, Callie, that one does not have to act like a virgin while cruising the Virgin River.”
Leaving her with this rather exciting tidbit of information, one that somehow managed to thrill her even more than the copter ride they’d just completed, Hamilton went to pay, tip and politely send away the helicopter pilot; one who said he would return at 5 p.m. that evening to collect the couple.
“Just imagine how many absolutely wonderful things can be accomplished by 5 p.m.?” Hamilton asked her, meeting her once again at the center of the main deck to take her hands in his.
For a moment the couple stood together in the midst of nature’s golden spotlight, the sun bathing them in its ebullient rays as they generated their own heat; their lips colliding in a passionate kiss as their tongues and fingers entangled between them.
Tendrils of wind song seemed to serenade them as they continued to kiss with the greatest passion; a chorus of crying galls joining their symphony as they cleared the skyline overhead.
For just a moment Callie lost herself in the divine tenderness of her lover’s kiss; wriggling contented in his strong embrace as their lips merged in a flawless union—their bodies moving closer together as his warm, soft mouth moved across hers in a succulent advance.
Finally she broke their kiss; drawing back to stare at him with lust dazed eyes as she whispered, “So tell me Captain; just what specific things would you like to accomplish before the hour of five arrives?”
She grinned as Hamilton pinned her with a contemplative look; stroking her sculpted chin in an adorable show of deep thought.
“Well Callie, I must admit that I am getting very hungry, just standing here looking at you,” he purred, adding in a dulcet voice as he stared deep into her eyes, “So I do believe that the very first thing that I’d like to accomplish is….brunch!”
Taking his startled companion by the hand, Hamilton lead her to an elaborate table setting situated at the corner of the boat deck; pulling out a sturdy deck chair for his lady as she gasped at the vision of an elegant feast presented for her approval.
Covered with a ream of elegant lace and a full setting of rose print china, the table was laid with some shining porcelain serving dishes brimming with treats that included hors d’oeuvres, fresh fruits and vegetables, roasted chicken legs, and sparkling goblets filled with strawberry wine.
The couple talked and laughed as they enjoyed their feast; clutching hands across the table as they spoon fed each other samples of their fresh prepared delicacies.
“Isn’t it ironic, Callie, that the first meal we shared together was also a brunch?” Hamilton observed, toasting her with his goblet as he added, “And I wager that on that day, neither of us would have predicted that we would end up here, together.”
Callie shrugged.
“Why, you mean just because we royally and officially despised one another from the first moment?” she asked, adding with a laugh, “Of course, that’s also the way that the vast majority of Hepburn and Tracy movies start off—with them at odds and at each other’s throats.”
Hamilton nodded.
“Indeed, I love those old flicks,” he agreed, adding as he pinned her with a pensive stare, “I wonder in our case, though, if we just felt a strong, immediate attraction to one another; but because of our parents’ relationship, we may have felt—well-downright bizarre about it.”
Callie thought a moment, and then nodded.
Well I do believe you have a point—as it still feels pretty blasted bizarre,” she assented, adding as she graced him with an affectionate nudge, “And I mean that in the most positive and totally hawt way, of course.”
The laughter that she expected came in the form of a long, intensive stare; one her lover supplemented by leaning forward across the table and gracing her lips with a passionate kiss.
“Well I can easily understand why any woman would be a bit reluctant to become the lover of her,” he paused here, fumbling for the right words, “mother’s husband’s son.” He paused here, adding with a casual shrug, “Would she feel quite so strange about it, though, if that same man was her husband?”
Callie shook her head.
“OK babe, somehow during the course of this conversation you’ve left me behind on a branch of the family tree,” she admitted, adding as she narrowed her eyes in his direction, “In the immortal words of Gary Coleman, what you talkin’ about, Hamilton?”
Hamilton chuckled.
“Well, you bright, wonderful, funny lady,” he told her, “Perhaps I can clarify.”
Falling to his knees before her, Hamilton reached deep into his pocket and withdrew a glittering diamond ring; holding it poised between them as he asked, “Callie Bradford, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Callie gaped.
“Well, what will Mom and Dad think?” she sputtered, shaking her head from side to side, “What will all of our friends think?”
Hamilton laughed.
“What does Callie Bradford think?” he countered, inclining his head in her direction as he added, “In this situation, love, yours is the only opinion that truly matters.”
Callie smiled.
“Well not that I am generally fond of referring to myself in the third person,” she whispered, adding as she wiped an errant tear from the surface of her flushed cheek, “Callie Bradford says, yes!”
Letting loose with a joyful whoop, Hamilton slid the ring onto her finger and held his arms open to her.
Soon the couple sank in one another’s arms, kissing and embracing before pausing to admire the bejeweled symbol of their love.
“Hamilton, this is all so beautiful—like something out of a dream,” she cooed, tone soft and dreamy.
Hamilton nodded.
“I agree, love,” he told her, adding as he cupped her soft cheeks in two tender hands, “So let’s complete the dream, baby. Here. And now.”
Seizing her lips in a passionate kiss, he rubbed and swayed his full, soft mouth against hers as their tongues once again entangled, their arms and legs also entangling as they lost themselves in a white-hot cocoon. Her breasts crushed his chest as they rolled free and wild across the length of the deck; tearing each other’s clothes off as the waves beneath them rolled and rocked their boat—adding intense friction and rhythm to their moves as their hips and thighs locked between them.
Finally breaking their kiss, Callie’s eyes flew wide to behold the spectacle of Hamilton’s gorgeous face against the backdrop of the glowing sun and azure blue sky; thrilling as she beheld the beauty of the man she was about to marry.
This feeling was intensified moments later, as he ran a soft, soothing hand across her heaving breasts and down her gently rounded stomach; staring deep into her eyes as he teased the strands of her feminine nest before cupping her femininity.
She let loose with a gasp as his long, agile finger plunged deep into her pussy; and as he once again touched her lips with the gentlest, sweetest of kisses, cradling her sturdy back with his cradling free arm, his finger probed her feminine entry as she sighed with delight.
“Let me show you, my darling,” he whispered against her lips, “just how a husband loves his wife.”
With these words he plunged his finger deep in her pussy, rubbing and probing her tender feminine walls with a tender but penetrating touch, his other hand mirroring its motion as he massaged her back.
Just as his tongue slithered deep into her mouth, his finger slipped within her to caress her sugar walls; seeming to seek the source of her ultimate pleasure.
And, just then, he found it.
Touching and rubbing that sensitive spot just inside her slit, he set fire to that magical fountain known as the G spot; igniting her greatest pleasure point as a thin stream of translucent fluid erupted from her core.
Her body quaked and undulated beneath him as pleasure overtook her, sending waves of sensation through every fiber of her being as she trembled in his arms.
Seizing control of the encounter, Callie rolled over onto Hamilton as their bodies joined together; their limbs entwining as she plied his lips with a hot, grateful kiss.
Their hips rocked wild against each other as her massaging hands rubbed and massaged every part of his flawless body, his chiseled pecs, his washboard abs, and his long, hard shaft. Finally she impaled herself on this stiff, pulsating member; their thighs clenching and their legs entangling and they grasped hands between them.
Their lips again joined in a binding kiss, with the back and forth motion of their tongues mirroring the deep penetration of his member inside her. And even as he probed and penetrated her, he continued to hold her closer than close and run his fingers through her fiery hair; pulling her into him as they honored their engagement with a fierce, binding kiss.
“I love you, Callie,” he whispered, his eyes flying open to stare deep into her eyes. “I can’t wait until I bring you back here—this time for our honeymoon.”
With this he surged still deeper within her; delivering a deep, smooth stroke that sent her hurdling across the bounds of an incredible mutual orgasm.
Swept up in the sensation of a powerful climax, one that seemed to bind her eternally to the man she adored, Callie threw her head back and let loose with her signature wail; the one that she’d sung as part and parcel of any of her self-penned love songs.
Although this time, she couldn’t help but notice, the song was a duet.
THE END
FORBIDDEN ENCOUNTER
Stepbrother Romance
I had never really seen Mitch as anything more than a bratty kid who came to stay with me once a month. When his mom married my dad, we ended up somewhere between friends and enemies; he would get rowdy the weekends he came down to stay, and generally brat around making sure that no-one was paying attention to anyone but him.
It took me a good decade to realize that his acting out might have had more to do with the fact his mother had just remarried, a matter of months after her divorce, and he was still trying to process it all. Whatever his reasoning, it was difficult to muster up any genuine sympathy when I was a twelve-year-old kid, still trying to navigate a strange new world where I only saw my mother every other weekend. She had custody of my big sister, Jeanette, and I sometimes wondered if Jeanette had it easier than me, not having to put up with the sulking and acting out I had to. It didn’t matter, in the end, as Jeanette and I drifted apart and then back together over the course of our late teens and early twenties, and she often told me how jealous she was that I got to hang out with a cute boy a few times a month. Rolling my eyes at her, I remember explaining to her that, far from the sweet, summertime romance she was imagining, Mitch and I had spent most of our time at each other’s throats, the way kids do when they’re competing for affection. While I liked Eva, his mother, I could never see her calm, kind demeanour in him. I deduced that his dad must be crazy, and that’s where he got all his manic energy. Whatever the situation, I never really spent much time thinking about the thirteen-year-old who used to stop by my house every now and then. He wasn’t a blip on my radar.
Even though we ended up forming some sort of uneasy alliance, as Mitch helped guide me through all the panic of preparing for college with his hard-earned experience, in that last summer I spent at home, I still found that Mitch rarely crossed my mind. I bumped into him at family gatherings, and we would occasionally share texts or emails about the practical side of organising things for our parents, but we never really formed a bond. We were too old when we met each other to adopt each other unquestioningly as new siblings, but too young to bond over shared life experience. We had met at that awkward in-between stage, and it seemed like that’s just the way our relationship would be from here on out. I had my group of friends, and he had his group of friends, and neither of us seemed to miss each other’s company that much. Besides, I was too busy with my career to genuinely focus on romance.
Working as a copywriter in advertising, I always threw myself at my work with gusto. It was tough, bitty work that often felt like it didn’t actually move forward for months at a time, but when it all came together the feeling was exhilarating. At twenty-three, I didn’t want to be sitting on my ass, letting my college degree in journalism gather dust. I wanted to be out there, writing, creating opportunities for myself. And I think that’s where I saw the biggest difference between Mitch and I, the one I considered all but insurmountable: while I was driven and career-focused, he was happy to float around taking on freelance design jobs here and there to keep on top of his rent. I didn’t like the disordered way he lived his life, and I could imagine that he found my intensity pretty off-putting too.
But why had he been on my mind so much over the last few days? I could tell you exactly why. We had an anniversary dinner coming up, and I knew that all eyes were going to be on our small four-piece family unit. As Dad and Eva celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary, Mitch and I would have to field questions about how happy we were for them and how glad we were that they’d found each other. It wasn’t that I didn’t mean those things, it was just that everyone assumed that Mitch and I were the best of friends, simply because we didn’t hate each other and our parents were married. They saw us as siblings, whereas I saw Mitch as a casual acquaintance I couldn’t quite seem to shake off. Was that a cruel thing to think about him? Probably, but it was the truth.
I had begun my packing two days in advance, ready for the big trip back home that would whisk me from the order of my city life back to the clutter and comfort of home. I was looking forward to seeing Eva and Dad, as my work didn’t often give me much of a break to get away. I had booked my tickets, packed my little spray-bottle of water to make sure my skin didn’t get too dry on the cross-country flight, and I was gone.
As I sat in the airport, waiting for Dad to come and meet me, I watched a young couple embrace in the arrivals lounge. Both their faces were alight, grinning, overjoyed just to be in each other’s company again, and I couldn’t help but ponder on the state of my own love life - or lack of it. I wasn’t exactly looking for a partner at the moment, but I was hoping one would sort of just turn up and insert himself into my life. I knew I would actually have to put in time and effort when I wanted to settle down with someone, but all of that seemed like too much stress on top of my already buzzing social life and work commitments.
I spotted Dad striding towards me through the airport, a smile cracking over his warm, crinkled face.
“Zoe!”
I sprang up, any thoughts about my singledom knocked from my head as I grabbed my bags and hurried towards him. I walked into his arms, feeling my body sag into him. Even just his familiar smell- of oil and coffee- was enough to help me de-stress from travelling.
“It’s so good to see you, Dad.”
“You too, Zoe. I was so worried you wouldn’t be able to make it, and it’s not a Brown family bash without you now, is it?” He smiled, picking up my bags. “Come on, let’s get to the car - Eva has dinner on, and I know she wants all four of us to sit down and enjoy it together.”
“Four? Is Mitch already home?”
“Yeah, he got in this morning, and he’s been hanging around helping Eva with the cooking.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “By which I mean completely getting in the way.”
I smiled - Mitch had always been spectacularly bad in the kitchen. I knew that this meal would be memorable, one way or another.