Stepbrother Soldier: A Forbidden Military Romance Novel (25 page)

“Do you like getting fucked by your stepbrother, slut?” I heard Jay
growl from behind me and I couldn’t even process the harsh words; I was too
lost in the pleasure, the craving for satisfaction.

“Yes! Yes! Please, fuck me, Jay,” I screamed; as soon as the words
were ripped from my throat I felt Jay slam into me harder than ever and the
wave finally broke, releasing an explosion of ecstasy inside me that made my
entire body buck and shake. I could feel spurts of hot cum bursting into my
pussy as it milked Jay’s cock. My muscles released like rubber bands, shooting
darts of pleasure throughout my rippling, trembling body. I groaned and jerked
as Jay held me tightly to him, releasing the last of his cum into my
still-clenching, once-virgin slit.

When he finally pulled out, I could hear a slight plopping sound and
was amazed at the ache left behind, the palpable absence that drove me to crave
him again. I pulled myself up on my elbows, feeling his cum drip down my
thighs. I heard him adjusting his pants and zipping them up.

“That was the last time that will ever happen,” he said from behind
me. I was surprised at the remorseful tone in his voice, though I wasn’t
surprised at the words themselves.

“Who says I’d want it to?” I asked defensively, suddenly embarrassed
to be fully naked and dripping cum in my classroom.

“Well, typically female virginal students don’t throw themselves at
their English professors unless they’re expecting some half-developed love
story to develop,” he said, picking up my dress and handing it to me. I blushed
as I took it from him and struggled to meet his eyes. Once I did, though, I was
totally taken aback.

His words and tone were so harsh, so cold, so lacking in anything even
close to compassion. But his eyes
….they
told a
different story. A story I wanted to hear. A story that maybe, just maybe,
could have a happy ending?

I pushed the thought away as I slipped the wrinkled dress over my head
and adjusted it. I slipped my panties up, as well, noting with some discomfort
how my stepbrother’s cum seemed to pool in them.

“Okay, well, A, you’re not just my fucking professor, you know? And B,
wrong. I just…whatever. You don’t need to know. I’m just happy this is over and
done with and we can both get on with our lives. Now we don’t have any more
reasons to stare at each other. Ever,” I said, busying myself by re-adjusting
my ponytail, which was now loose from Jay’s repeated tugging.

“What looks? I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said,
smugly. My eyes shot back to his; there was a growing hardness to them, as
though he was fighting internally to erase the look that I had just seen in
them. That look that had betrayed his words…

“Come off it! You know what looks! Jesus, can you be a human being for
one goddam second?” I cried out, frustrated beyond belief.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is that if
some little virgin wants to puncture her hymen on my cock, I’m not going to
stand in her way,” he said dismissively. I stood for a moment longer, staring
at him in utter disbelief. I could
not
believe
he was treating me like this after…after…

But then again, what had I expected? He was a jerk, and I knew he was
a jerk. And I had been the one offering myself up. He hadn’t forced me into
anything. I’d done it because I knew that I would go crazy if I had to spend
the rest of the semester hating him and wanting him at the same time.

Now, I thought, I’d had him and could move on. Maybe start dating a
boy who would actually treat me well. There’s no way the feelings I’d had for
Jay, and when Jay was taking my virginity, could only be ignited by Jay. Plenty
of fish, right?

Anyway, I had so many advantages over Jay. I was smart and young and
well-adjusted. I had my whole life in front of me. Jay had powered his way
through college, probably never taking a minute to enjoy himself. He was going
to be old and used up soon enough. He was good-looking now, but being that much
of an asshole took a lot of strain, and I comforted myself by thinking that the
strain would soon leave him looking like a has-been before too long.

Jay walked behind the desk and straightened up, picking up all the
spilled pens and pencils and dropping them back in the pencil holder, then
gathering the papers up neatly into a stack and depositing them in his
briefcase.

“What about my paper?” I asked.

“This isn’t a porno. You don’t get a better grade by dropping your
panties for your professor,” Jay said, not looking up. The anger that flared up
in me was sudden, and unbidden. It even took me by surprise. The things that
came out of my mouth were thoughts I didn’t even know I was capable of having.

“Oh yeah,
professor?
Well,
what if I tell my Mom and your dad about this? How do you think they’d feel?
What if I told them that you pushed yourself on me, that you
made
me do this as blackmail? Who do you
think they’d believe? Good little innocent me, or jackass you?” I said, my
voice a ragged whisper. I felt angry tears prick at my eyes.

Jay looked up at me wide-eyed.
Finally,
a fucking human reaction,
I thought to myself, gloating but already feeling
a little sick from guilt.

“You’d never,” he said, his face darkening.

“Well, after getting to know
you,
I’d think you’d realize people are capable of treating each other just awfully
when they have a reason to,” I shot back, feeling my anger course through me. I
was riding high on the tide of rage; it was almost like a superpower, something
that made me more than human. Or, at least, was turning me into the sort of
human I never thought I’d be.

Jay just looked at me, his face growing ever darker but his eyes
taking on a lost, confused look. Eventually, he lowered his eyes and sighed. He
pulled my paper from his bag and showed it to me.

“I’ll give it another look,” he said, humbly. Despite myself, I felt
triumphant, like I’d finally won. I turned on my heel and strode out of the
classroom, head held high. I walked straight down the hallway and made an
abrupt, 90-degree turn into the lady’s room. I marched confidently into the
nearest stall and plopped down on the seat. Then, I cried.

7

What have I done? How could I let that happen? What
was I thinking? This is a disaster!

The entire weekend, my brain was on a loop of thoughts like these,
running through my head unbidden and unwanted. Over and over again I found
myself closing my eyes and banging my head against my hand. My roommate, noticing
my distress, tried to entice me to escape the room, inviting me to a party with
the girls.

In my distressed state, I couldn’t imagine myself having very much
fun, but I was also too emotionally exhausted to refuse. I went through the
pre-party rituals listlessly, posing for pictures with my friends in our
going-out outfits. Everyone tried their hardest to cheer me up, but I was so
lost in my own thoughts that I kept having to ask people to repeat themselves.
Eventually, we piled out of the dorm room and down the hall, out into the warm
California night.

The party we were going to was a few blocks from campus, one of those
red-cup frat parties where you need to scream in order to be heard and there
are twenty-five guys named “Mike” within grabbing distance at any particular
time. Never my idea of fun. But, after all I’d been through, I guess I was
feeling in need of a little pick-me-up. Usually I sipped one beer throughout
the entire night, not even getting tipsy. This time, I finished my first beer
in 30 minutes, my second in even less time.

“Oooh, Elizabeth, you getting rowdy tonight?” my roommate asked
playfully, clinking her cup against mine. My face felt red and I was slightly
giddy, so I beamed back at her and let out a whoop.
So this is why people drink,
I thought to myself as I fought
through the crowd to get another beer.

I have to admit, being drunk did make the party a lot more fun. But it
didn’t help me find what I was looking for, which was a guy who would make me
feel the way that Jay did. In fact, the more I drank, the
more
ugly
and disgusting the boys grew, and the more I felt myself wishing I
could just be with Jay. Not
with
Jay,
but near him. In his presence. Close enough to smell him….

I downed the last gulp of my third beer and began to make my way for a
fourth. Everywhere I looked, it seemed, there were drunken co-eds locking lips
in passionate displays of drunken lust. How could these people be so turned on
by each other? They were all so…young. So out of control. So…
boring.

The last thought I can clearly remember before blacking out was:
I sure hope Mom never finds out.
Whether
I was thinking about the drinking or Jay, I couldn’t tell you. Both could apply
just as well.

When I woke up, it was with a sense of deep panic and confusion. For
one thing, I had no idea where I was. I was covered by a blanket, and I was on
a couch. There were long, tall bookshelves lining the walls of the room, each
full of books that were meticulously ordered by color. It was almost like
looking at the entire color spectrum, that was how neatly arranged they were. I
distinctly remember being impressed by this, even in the midst of my anxiety
attack.

There was nothing else in the room to distinguish it from any other
living room on earth. I sat up, shaking slightly, feeling my head throbbing and
stomach turning.
Never drinking again,
I
promised myself. I noticed that there was a glass of water and two small, white
pills on the coffee table in front of me. Reaching out, I saw that the pills
were just generic aspirin and swallowed them with relief, chasing them with the
entire glass of water. I was still thirsty, but it helped a little bit.

Suddenly, I heard noises behind me. It sounded like kitchen noises: a
fridge opening, plates being set down, a stove clicking on. I was torn between
getting up and facing whoever it was that owned the couch I’d slept on and
pretending to be asleep. Maybe they would just leave and then I could slip out
after them. It wasn’t until I’d woken up a little more that I noticed
something.

A smell.

It wasn’t the smell of butter frying, which was, in fact, starting to
fill the room. It wasn’t the smell of the old books. It wasn’t the smell of my
own alcohol-soaked breath.

It was the blanket.

I leaned down and sniffed it deeply, then dropped it, horror coming
over me. It was Jay. I could recognize his scent immediately. It wasn’t very
strong, but it was there. They say that smell is the strongest scent tied to
memory, and I fully believe that after that morning. The smell of the blanket
brought back a rush of emotion and memory: the classroom, the pleasure, the
disgrace. I could feel desire rumbling inside me and forced it down, my heart
beating out of my chest.

How on earth did I end up here? I suddenly realized I didn’t know
where my phone was. Scrambling desperately, I searched the couch and found it
nestled between the cushions. I frantically looked through my texts and calls:
apparently, I’d called my roommate four times and some other friends as well,
but there weren’t any outgoing calls to Jay. No texts, either. Which only made
the mystery greater.
How did this
happen?!

I’d get my answer sooner than I’d wish.

“So, you’re up,” I heard Jay’s voice behind me. My heart stopped. I
felt like crying. I felt like crying for the rest of my life. Slowly, I turned
to him. He was wearing only his pajama pants, his muscled torso exposed. I
couldn’t help but eye it, even as I attempted to put on a brave face.

“How…what…” I started to say, stumbling over my
own words.

“I found you wandering around on the street. Alone. You shouldn’t be
so reckless,” was his only response before turning and walking back towards
what I gathered was the kitchen. I was left staring at the spot he’d just been,
my mind a tangled web. I wanted to scream after him, to tell him that I don’t
even drink, that I wasn’t reckless. But the more I thought about it, the more I
realized that the past few days I’d been nothing
but
reckless.

“Come get something in your stomach,” Jay called from the other room.
I could smell eggs and bacon now, and the smell set my mouth watering even
though my stomach was still doing flip-flops.
 
I slowly got up and walked into the
kitchen. I saw two plates set out, steaming hot, on the kitchen table. Jay was
sitting in front of one, and I took the other seat, looking glumly down at the
delicious-smelling food.

“Thanks,” I muttered. Jay’s eyes were on me, but his gaze was almost
clinical, as though he was studying me.

“I didn’t peg you as such a partier,” he said
flatly.

“I’m not. I’ve never even been drunk before,” I said, picking up my
fork and shoveling eggs into my mouth. The food immediately settled my stomach
and I felt better. I wondered, briefly, if he may have poisoned my food, but
realized that would be going overboard, even for Jay.

“Oh? Does this have something to do with what
happened last class?”

My head shot up and my eyes narrowed. He was really going to bring
that up? I had assumed that we would both just ignore it, pretend it never
happened. Now he wanted to have some sort of therapy session about it?

“That’s not really any of your business. But, no, it has nothing to do
with that,” I said, lying through my teeth. Jay’s eyebrows arched curiously.

“I see. Well, be careful next time,” he said. We continued to eat in
silence, but it grew more and more awkward each second. Finally, I couldn’t
take it anymore.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I demanded, putting my fork down. Jay
looked up at me over his own plate and I was taken aback by what I saw in his
expression.

“I suppose it’s because I remember my first hangover,” he said simply.
I knew that he was lying, though, just as much as I knew that he knew I’d been
lying when I said it wasn’t about the sex.

“Tell me the truth,” I said, offering no
argument. Jay sighed and looked down at his plate.

“Well, Elizabeth, I’m not sure why, exactly. But…I haven’t been able
to stop thinking about you. Since that day,” he said. I could hear the honesty
in voice, and it shocked me.

“How can you treat me so badly and still…still
look at me like that?”

“I can’t explain it. You just…you do things to me. Things that I don’t
like but can’t…ignore. I’ve tried, trust me. I keep telling myself that you’re
nothing but a gold-digging…”

“Stop. Just shut up. Right now,” I said, my voice rising, indignation
flaring up in me. I’d had it. I’d had it with him thinking that Mom and I were
floozies.

“You have no idea how hard we had it before Mom met Mark. You have no
idea how much we struggled. You know what? I
am
happy that Mom met a rich man. She worked three jobs trying to
raise me on her own. She deserves this. You grew up rich, you have no idea what
it’s like to look in the fridge and see nothing but bologna and milk.

But I wouldn’t care if Mark was penniless. I love him, too. He’s been
a good stepfather to me. He’s been good to my mother. She loves him. He makes
her happy. I would love him for that even if he lost all his money tomorrow.

Thanks for the eggs, and the couch to crash on. But I’m done with
this. I don’t care if you feel bad. I don’t care if you want me. I’m done,” I
said, standing up and walking towards the living room to get my phone.

“Wait, Elizabeth,” Jay said, and I heard his chair scraping over the
floor as he stood up. I didn’t stop or turn around or even acknowledge him. I
strode out the door, my hangover temporarily eclipsed by my sudden feelings of
victory. I’d done it. I’d finally said what needed to be said, put Jay in his
place. I was on top of the world. Nothing could stop me.