Authors: Astrid Lee Donovan
By the time that we had driven the forty minutes home, I was famished, my bag of chips lunch feeling insubstantial in my stomach. I walked through the door, and my mouth watered as I caught a whiff of Eva’s biscuits and gravy. She came wandering out of the kitchen, her dark hair scraped back off her face, and grinned at me, holding her hands up to keep from getting batter on me.
“Oh, Zoe, it’s so good to see you. You must tell me about this new project you’ve been working on - in fact, why don’t you come through to the kitchen and grab a glass of wine so we can catch up?”
Even though she was my stepmother and I guess I was meant to hate her, I had always really liked hanging out with Eva. She was smart, with a PhD in psychology, and had trained as a therapist before going into research. I followed her through to the kitchen as my father dragged my bag out of the car, and grabbed myself a glass from the cabinet as I passed. Then, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Mitch was standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter. Or, at least, I thought it was Mitch. He had always been tall, but he looked particularly swarthy in the navy suit he was wearing - it was a little crumpled from a couple of hours in the kitchen, but it still looked good. His usually curly brown hair, which generally sprouted down to his neck, was carefully trimmed, bringing out the sharp hazel in his eyes. He looked…well - he looked pretty fucking good. And this is coming from the girl who he used to tease about getting zits.
“Hey, Zoe,” He smiled, reaching behind him for the bottle of wine. “Can I pour you some wine?”
I held out my glass to him, allowing him to fill me up. “Why so smart today, Mitch?”
“Oh, I just had an interview at a comic book company,” He tried to keep his voice calm, but I could hear the excitement that bubbled over whenever he spoke. “They saw some of my web comics, and they’re thinking about hiring me as a staff artist.”
“Really? Well, look at you,” I nodded; surprised to hear that Mitch might actually be getting something that resembled steady work. “Do they publish anything I’d know?”
“Depends, how many queer superhero comics do you read?” He asked, cocking his head as if he expected the answer to be anything different than what it was.
“I’m admittedly pretty behind on the queer comic book thing,” I shook my head, feigning annoyance with myself. “Must catch up on that.”
Inside, my mind was trying to process everything that had just been thrown at it. One, Mitch was actually getting a job, and two; he had suddenly become kind of corporate and super-hot. These were things that I didn’t usually apply to Mitch, but I could already feel my opinion of him shifting under my feet. This wasn’t the cute, bumbling, drifting Mitch I’d seen when I was down for Christmas. This was an assured, more grown-up Mitch. He looked like a man now. He dressed like a man, acted like a man, spoke like a man - it was a revelation.
“So, what’s bought on this bout of corporate slave-ish-ness?” I asked, taking a sip of my wine and stepping aside to let Eva get at some plates behind me. “Need a hand with that, Eva?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” she replied, her eyes flashing with amusement at me. I wondered if she could tell that I was sort of dazzled by how much Mitch had changed since I’d last seen him. Maybe that’s why Dad hadn’t mentioned anything about it in the car - to take me by surprise. It would be just like the two of them to cook something up.
“Mitch, answer Zoe!” Eva nodded at me, and Mitch seemed to jump back to reality. He had a habit of sort of zoning out during conversations, as if his brain had just jumped a couple of dimensions while you were finishing your sentence.
“Sorry, sorry. I guess I just…you know. I’m twenty-four now, and I want to actually start having something that resembles a normal life, as opposed to running all over town doing lots of little things, but no big one project. It all feels a bit…aimless.” He replied, shrugging. I couldn’t help myself as I watched his hand glide around his wine glass, noticing how long and strong his fingers were. I shivered a tiny bit at the thought- Jesus, what was wrong with me? This was a man who was, for all intents and purposes, my stepbrother. I couldn’t be getting shivery over him!
I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and tried to relax. “Yeah, I get that. I mean, I kind of wish I had had some time to mess around doing nothing in particular before I started work, but it’s good to have some stability, you know?”
“I thought all journalism graduates were always “working on their novel,” he teased, “Don’t you have that to mess around with?”
I pulled a face at him. “Ad copywriting doesn’t really lend itself well to fiction. Unless you’re talking about Mad Men, and I really don’t think my office could be mistaken for the sixties.”
“So, I’ll be joining you in corporate drone world, then!” He nodded, his face clouding with sudden nervousness.
“You’ll be fine,” I assured him. “It’s just about finding a place where you and your clients can agree. It’s difficult at first, but then, so is most semi-creative work.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know that I’ll still be doing
very
creative work,” He shot back. “Not hawking my soul to some big company so they can increase their profit margin.”
Laughing, I took another sip of my wine. “That’s why I always try to come up with shitty adverts for the big companies, then I at least feel like I’m doing my part for socialism.”
He grinned back. It felt strange to be talking about these very real, very grown-up things with Mitch, but it felt good, too - me and him were on the same wavelength, having come from the same family, but it felt like now was the first time I’d realized it. Maybe it was because we actually had something to talk about, but the conversation flowed freely between us for once, instead of having to be stimulated by forced reminiscing about when we were young.
“Dinner’s ready!” Yelled Eva from the dining room, and I went to gather up the wine and take some glasses to the table.
“Good talking to you, Mitch,” I said as I swept past him into the living room. My hand brushed against his bare wrist, and I felt a sharp bolt of electricity as our skin connected. Looking up at him for a moment, I was certain that he’d felt it too - his eyes were suddenly serious and focused on mine, his lips slightly parted, but then he seemed to shake himself free of whatever mood had struck him to follow me to dinner. Jesus, what the hell had that just been? I didn’t even want to consider the implications of that look. Plastering a big, fat smile of my face, I entered the dining room and placed down the glasses and the wine. Okay, this was going to be an interesting weekend.
Chapter Three
By the time we were clearing away the plates for dinner, I was thoroughly stuffed and a little tipsy to boot. It had been one of those warm, fuzzy, postcard affairs that I always hoped our family gatherings would be - the conversation flowed with ease, the food was all eaten, and we didn’t seem to run out of things to talk about that involved all four of us. I guess it was a big change, having Mitch looking at getting a real job, because it felt like he clicked in as part of this family so much more. All of us were career-minded in our way, and it was like he had just shaken off the last accoutrements of his slacker dad to actually do something with his life.
And it was
hot.
Yes, I knew I was letting the wine get to my head. And yes, I knew that he was still my stepbrother. But he was different now, the awkward teenager long gone and replaced by someone a whole lot more…appealing. His maturity was a turn-on for me, and I couldn’t believe how much he’d changed since last time I’d seen him. It was as if he’d grown five inches, a real man who took up space and seemed to actually be a grown-ass adult. For once, we were at the same point in our lives and we were able to appreciate it. So we sat up a little later after our parents had gone to bed, ready to get up early and prepare the house for the onslaught of guests who’d be coming down to congratulate them the next morning. We poured glass after glass of wine, and just kept talking - exchanging anecdotes we’d never dare tell our parents about the crazy times at college, or what we’d got up to in the name of adolescent love in high school. We had to keep our voices down, which was tricky because he kept making me giggle hysterically. He told me about his first time smoking pot, his college girlfriend, the first time he’d actually been paid for his work as a designer. It was strange to have so many little bits of his life sketched in, especially considering the fact that I’d known him for years and spent so much time with him. I felt like I should know him better than this, and I was catching up for time I’d lost back in our youth.
And I was happy to swap stories right back at him, about my work, my friends back home, and what it had been like to study up in the city. I was just telling him about a recent excursion with my friend Katie when he interrupted, mischievously grinning as he took another long draft of wine.
“So, any of your friends single?”
“No, but I am,” I blurted before I had a chance to consider what I was saying. Jesus, had I really just come out and said that?
He raised his eyebrows at me. “Really? I assumed you had some boyfriend sequestered away in the city.”
“Nah, nothing like that.” I sighed. “Nothing like that since college, actually.”
“What, you haven’t gotten laid since college?” he asked in disbelief, and I slapped him gently on the arm.
“No, I didn’t mean sex, you idiot. I mean dating. The whole romance game, you know?” I explained myself.
“Ah, yes - the great mystery of dating. I’ve been struggling to find someone myself, these days. It used to be so easy back in college but now - “he pulled a face. “No such luck.”
“Well, you can keep away from my friends. I want someone who’s going to treat them right, not take off two weeks before college starts so he can see Europe and waste all the money he’d had saved up.” I joshed him playfully.
“Hey, I stand by that decision. And who’s to say that I wouldn’t treat your friends well?” He admonished.
“Sorry if I don’t see you as some great romancer,” I teased, reaching over and draining the bottle into my glass. “Why, have I got you wrong there?”
“Zoe, I’m the kind of guy who thinks going to Europe for a spontaneous vacation is good idea. Of
course
I’m romantic.” He dismissed me. “Why, what more proof do you need?”
I looked up from the bottle to respond, and found myself disarmed by the look on his face. He was tucked up on the opposite end of the couch from me, his legs crossed beneath him, and there was a look in his eyes that I’d never seen before. I didn’t quite know what I’d have called it - maybe lust, annoyance, confusion, or some combination of the above. Whatever it was, I didn’t know what to make of it. Until he reached across and placed a hand on me knee.
I took a deep breath, then swallowed, allowing my body to adjust to the sensation of his hand on my bare skin. I could feel the wine swirling around my brain, and I wasn’t convinced that this was a good idea - but fuck it. It wasn’t like we were hurting anyone, and it wasn’t like we were actually related. I didn’t even see him as my brother, and all I knew now was that the feeling of his skin on mine felt right. We sat there for a moment, our breath coming in unison as we tried to figure out what to do next. Then he kissed me.
He closed the space between us, bringing his lips to mine in a simple, chaste peck. He pulled back and looked at me, and it was clear that we were both taking stock of the situation inside our heads. But my brain, for once, didn’t want to overanalyse this or overthink it, but rather just give in to the pleasurable sensations pulsing across my skin. So I leant back in, and kissed him. Really kissed him.
My tongue parted his lips in a moment, and within a second we were kissing passionately, our tongues wet and heavy against each other. My body relaxed as he moved in closer, wrapping his arms around my waist - it had been so long since I had been with a man like this, and it felt like something between a relief and a whole new batch of nerves. Even if we took the situation between Mitch and me out of the equation, I hadn’t had sex in what - five, six months? The pressure of the situation added to my internal nervousness had me breathing a sigh of relief when he pushed me down on to the couch, his body on top of mine. Good. If he took control, then I could just lay back and go with the flow.
I pushed my worries to the back of my head and lost myself in his kiss; the scratchiness of the stubble on his jaw, the softness of his plump lips, and the silky ends of his freshly-cut hair as I ran my fingers through it. It wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the night going, but his body felt so strong and so good pressed up against my own that I was hardly in any position to complain.
I don’t know how long we lay like that, our bodies entwined as we explored each other. It was as if we’d connected on a whole different level today, getting to know parts of each other that we hadn’t paid any attention to previously. But it was a long time; enough time for the rain outside to peter out into a light drizzle, enough time that I forgot about my wine, my surroundings, anything but how my stepbrother’s arms felt around me. His hand moved up slowly to cup my breasts, massaging it firmly through the thin fabric of my dress. My body reacted, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure across every inch of my body. There was an adolescent uncertainty between us, as both of us tried to figure out how far we wanted to go. In a moment of courage, I slid my hand down to his ass and squeezed, hard, through his pants. He was just as toned as I’d always imagined, but still, the realness of feeling him underneath my fingers was intensely strange and intensely good at the same time.
And then I felt his hand creeping up my bare thigh, his fingers skimming my sensitive skin. He pulled back, his lips puffy from making out, as he hooked his fingers around my panties, preparing to move them aside. “Is this okay?” His voice was gentle and soft, but there was urgency to it that I wanted to indulge.
I nodded, allowing him to pull aside my underwear and graze my sensitive flesh with his fingers. I gasped, my back arching up so that I could meet his hand, and he slowly slid a digit inside me. The feeling was explosive - to be penetrated by this gorgeous man on top of me, to have him drape my neck in kisses as his fingers pushed further and further into me. By the time his thumb reached up to stroke my clit, my whole body was aching with desire, and I had begun to rock my hips gently against him, trying to build up some kind of pace. But he continued slowly, making me moan softly into his ear as my entire body begged for some kind of release. He just felt too good, the pressure between my legs becoming too great, as pressed a kiss on his neck to try and encourage him to move a little faster.
The feeling of his thumb making gentle, languid circles against my clit was all I needed, and I let out a cry, muffled by his shoulder, as a sweet, satisfying orgasm broke across my body. It was the kind that came after a lot of waiting, the kind that felt earned, and I felt my legs tremble underneath him before I flopped back on to the sofa, spent. Fuck. Had we really just done that?
He brought his fingers to my lips, gently brushing them until my tongue darted out to suck the taste of me off him. It was so…intense, unlike anything I’d experienced before, the kind of connection that I was certain only really happened in movies. But here we were, a couple of grown adults who had just got to second base, apparently keen to ignore the fact that we would never have been here at all if our parents hadn’t been married.
As the thought crossed my mind, I knew I needed some time to go over things in my head before we went any further. Gently extracting his fingers from my mouth, I pushed myself up so I was back in an upright position again.
“Mitch, I-“
“Look, it’s fine if that’s all you want to do tonight. I get it. We’re both pretty tipsy, and the last thing I want is to make things awkward at our parent’s anniversary.” He pulled a face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought up the fact that our parents are married, should I?”
“Nope,” I replied, sitting myself up fully, my body still feeling a little shaky from the orgasm. “I’m sorry, I just need some time to think before anything goes…any further. You get it, right?”
“No need to apologise,” he smiled, bringing my hand to his mouth and brushing his lips over my knuckles. “It’s not my ideal seducing scenario, I’ll admit.”
“Oh? And what is?” I asked, feeling playful and flirty, the way I did after a really good first date.
He stretched himself back on the couch, and I couldn’t help but admire the strength of his arms through his pale shirt. “Hmm, I don’t know. It wouldn’t be on my parent’s couch, for one thing. And there’d be a lot more candles, and everything would be soft focus.”
“How would you manage that?” I asked
“I’d find a way,” he replied, and there was that look on his face again, except it was softer now, gentler. As if he wanted to scoop me up and carry me through to bed. I wondered if maybe I could restrain myself to just give him one more kiss before I went to bed, just one more soft little smooch…I found myself leaning towards him without realizing it, and quickly straightened my frame and stood up.
“We should get to bed. Big day tomorrow!” I murmured, trying to keep my voice down. The last thing I wanted was Eva wandering through to see me with a post-orgasmic flush on my cheeks.
“You’re right.” He nodded. “See you then?”
“See you then.”
I walked through to my bedroom, which doubled up as Eva’s office, and lay down on my small childhood bed. What the hell had that just been? I’d arrived at the house today, expecting to find the same small-town drifter I always did, and instead got a tall, dark, sexy charmer who made me laugh my ass off all night long.
As well as making you come, of course,
my subconscious reminded me. Shit, that too. Everything would have been perfect, had he not been my fucking stepbrother. As soon as I had changed into my pyjamas, I hurriedly scrambled into bed and let out a sigh. Placing my head on the pillow, I pushed those thoughts to the back of my head, and allowed myself to drift off to sleep.