Shame: A Stepbrother Romance (10 page)

It’s over much sooner than I think and I’m standing by the wedding arch without any incidents. Ashleigh’s mom is a minister and she is officiating the wedding. She is nothing like my own mother. I’ve only met her a couple of times and I already feel like I can tell her anything, while I hardly ever share anything personal with my mom. The warm smile on Ashleigh’s mom’s face at the sight of her baby daughter walking towards her hand in hand with her dad brings happy tears to my eyes. Sean has taken his proud position on the other side of the arch, beaming at his approaching breath-taking bride.

I discreetly wipe a tear that’s managed to roll past my pooling eyelids and take a moment to look at the crowd. I’m not the only one wiping. Women of all ages are sniffling and sighing and I wonder if it’s because they are so moved on Ashleigh’s behalf or because they thought about their own lives and whether they’d ever be in the place of the glowing woman walking down the aisle.

I admit I wonder about that for a second too before something else catches my attention. In the far distance, beyond the club house and the lawn, in the driveway a figure is emerging from a sleek black sports car. As soon as the person steps onto the grass, the vehicle speeds off, but I am pretty sure I manage to catch a glimpse of rich cinnamon waves.

I’m having a hard time concentrating on Ashleigh’s mom speaking as I can’t tear my eyes away from the approaching man. My brother. He is buttoning up his jacket as if he’s just put it on and I’m surprised he is not zipping up his pants too. Okay, I’m not surprised, but my cynical mind has gone into forbidden territory once again. I’ve just pictured him getting a blow job from his mysterious woman friend right there on the parking lot and my blood is boiling with unfounded jealousy.

Who does that? Who comes up with unlikely scenarios in their head just to feel a sharper, almost physical pain?

He nods politely to the people at the edge of the crowd and settles in among them, as comfortable as if he is among old friends. He cranes his neck to see beyond the heads in front of him, though he really doesn’t need to. He is easily the tallest person present. Then he catches sight of me and smiles, waving, like he is so happy to see me.

What is wrong with me? I am missing my best friend’s wedding in order to dissect every micro movement of a brother I hardly know, but who has managed to take more space in my head than anything else I’ve cared for previously. It doesn’t make any sense.

I shake my head and turn to face Ashleigh. She glances sideways at me and winks. Yes, that’s why I’m here, I remind myself. To be happy for her.

“Hey,” Andrew says and whistles, “Look at you! I knew it would be worth coming.”

“Thanks,” I say shyly, but inside my head I scream,
What are you doing? Stop saying things like that! Stop confusing me! Stop making it worse!

“I thought I’d never get a minute alone with you. You are always in the center of things.”

“Did you want me to introduce you to people?”

“Ha! Is that what you think? I can make my own introductions and my friend is here too, remember? Just wanted to hang out with you for a while. Are you still on maid of honor duty?”

“I am. All night,” I say and realize I sound hostile, so I soften my tone, “But there’s nothing scheduled before the throwing of the bouquet, so I guess we can hang out.”

I know I’ve promised myself not to drink and I do intend to keep my promise from tomorrow on, but today I’ll need something to get through the evening. It doesn’t help that everyone is toasting the bride and groom every five seconds and I feel like I’m being rude if I don’t drink along with the others.

Andrew and I are standing by a tall cocktail table in the reception hall and I notice he is only drinking club soda. I feel guilty with my almost empty glass of champagne, especially after my proclamations that I don’t drink. Well, what difference does it make anyway? I shouldn’t care about impressing my brother any more.

“Beautiful wedding,” he says and I find it incredibly strange for a man to comment on weddings and how beautiful they are.

“It is,” I agree anyway, “Not what I’d do with my own wedding, but still very elegant.”

“And what would you do with yours?”

“I don’t know. Something different. Something with lots of snow and Christmas lights and Christmas ornaments.”

“But you’ve got Christmas lined up every year, for the rest of your life. Why would you want such an ordinary wedding?”

“There’s nothing ordinary about Christmas,” I say and smile shyly. “I’ve never had a real Christmas… I just wish I had at least one authentic Christmas memory and if it can’t be the real thing, I at least want to connect it with my wedding.”

“You are odd, you know that?” he says and smiles warmly at me. “No one said you can’t start making authentic memories now. You don’t need to wait until your wedding for that.”

“Who was that?” I change the subject out of the blue and Andrew turns around to see who I mean. I use the split second to hide my face behind my hand. Why did I say this? It’s probably the alcohol talking. I’m in for trouble again.

“Who?”

“The girl who dropped you off.”

“Oh, her.” I can tell he is confused by the change of subject. “She’s… No one really,” he says and comes closer to me tucking a lock of hair that’s fallen from my updo behind my ear. “You are the sexiest maid of honor I’ve ever seen.”

I can’t help but blush. I know he is saying this just to distract me, but I fall for it anyway.

He comes even closer and leans in.

“Though we both know you are no maid… And definitely not with too much honor,” he whispers in my ear and I almost jump back. I look at him horrified.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what brothers and sisters talk about or ever mention,” I say indignantly, though I wish nothing more but to feel his breath tickle the sensitive skin on my neck and his words to keep coming out of his mouth and play with my imagination.

“Are you telling me there’s anything normal between us?” he says and closes the distance between us. I hope no one is looking. We look like the most intimately twisted family, but it’s only about to get worse.

“But you said… Back in the house…” I mumble.

A soft tune comes on and couples start twirling around the dance floor as if on cue. I remember dreading this moment when the DJ would be playing ballads at the wedding and I’ll be ‘getting fresh air’ to avoid the awkwardness of having no one ask me to dance.

Andrew grabs my hand and yanks me towards the swaying crowd.

“What are you doing?” I almost hiss, trying to pull myself out of his grip.

“I want to dance with my little sister.” It sounds even worse when he says it like this and I feel the little angel on my shoulder stir, but I have no time to listen to it as Andrew has now pulled me towards him, locking me into place with a muscular arm draped around my waist.

In the midst of the dancing guests, we are fairly anonymous. And thank God, because it hasn’t been a minute of our bodies rubbing together in the slow rhythm, when I feel his hardness against my satin-covered stomach. Even in my high heels, I’m far from his height and though his poking erection is a long way above my pussy, I feel electrified and weak at the same time.

I look up at him with my eyes big, round and questioning, but he only presses himself even harder against me and lowers the hand that was on my waist down to my ass, squeezing it lightly through the slippery fabric. Is he blatantly pleasuring himself with my body in front of everyone? I would have panicked that someone might notice if I hadn’t been preoccupied with the unbearable ache in my pussy that feels desperate and wanting.

I should get a grip. I’m not a man! I should be able to control these urges. Hell, even men, I mean civilized men, somehow manage to keep it in their pants most of the time they get a hard-on. Then why does it feel like if I don’t get some action down there, I will explode? I’m contemplating running off to the bathroom to save myself from the shame my body is pushing me into, but even when I try to pull away from him, he won’t let go.

“Andrew…” I start, “Please, don’t…”

He is not listening. Instead, he slips a steel-hard thigh between my legs and presses it over my most sensitive spot. I don’t even realize how I’ve thrown my head back and closed my eyes shut with the intense sensation. He starts moving his leg, so he is lightly rubbing against my clit and I slump forward into his arms, my fingers digging into the expensive material of his shirt.

“Stop…” I beg, “We can’t…”

I feel like I might come right there, in the middle of the dance floor, at my best friend’s wedding. His hard cock twitches against my stomach and I know he wants me too. I’ve never, in my entire life, been more mortified. How is he so bold? Why is he not as racked with shame as I am?

I don’t know if I should be happy or scream with frustration when the song is over and he lets go of me. I feel like I need to hump something, anything, to relieve the built-up pressure or I won’t be able to concentrate on anything else.

“Let’s get out of here,” Andrew says as we are walking away from the twisting bodies on the dance floor. “We need to take care of you, sis.”

“What? No!” I almost shout. I’m embarrassed he is even acknowledging what just happened. “We can’t leave. I’m perfectly fine. And I’m the maid of honor. I need to stay till the end.” I’m not perfectly fine. My juices are pooling at my entrance and I feel so sensitive down there that all my blood must have rushed to my vagina, leaving none in my head.

“We’ll be back just in time for the bouquet, I promise,” he says with his arrogant half-smile and I know I’d follow him anywhere now. I’m lightheaded with arousal and it won’t go away on its own.

CHAPTER TEN

I’m following him like a marionette doll with no willpower of its own. We step out of the main reception hall and take a dark corridor. I think we are headed for the bathrooms again and find it almost ridiculous that all of our interactions so far have happened in various bathrooms, but I’m wrong.

We take the stairs to the second floor where the music from downstairs can only be faintly heard. The excitement is building inside me as we swerve down another corridor and find ourselves in front of a door.

There are a couple of hotel rooms on the second floor, but the wedding guests from out of town are all checked in at the main hotel building, which is a couple of minutes’ drive down from the club house. This place is completely deserted. I look at him questioningly just when he is pulling out a card from his breast pocket.

“Is this where you live?” I ask alarmed. I thought he was staying with a friend or at least that’s what he told our parents at dinner. He cocks his head as if he is finding me quite amusing.

“Of course not. Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s impossibly creepy that you have a card from this place?”

“I got it earlier.” His voice doesn’t indicate that he finds it disturbing that he knew he’d end up here with me. Or with someone else? Maybe with just anyone, but I was the easiest target?

I’m finally starting to get second thoughts about following him here, when the lock buzzes and Andrew holds the door open for me. Before I have time to decide if I want to proceed with this or run for my life, the door closes with a loud click behind his back.

It’s just a regular hotel room, though quite luxurious, judging by the bedding and the art on the wall. There are no personal belongings anywhere, so he doesn’t live here, which only confirms the other creepy alternative.

“Are you telling me that you knew?” I ask.

“What?”

“That we were coming upstairs later.”

“I didn’t
know
know, but I was hoping…”

“Then what about your little speech about us being brother and sister and putting what happened in the club behind us?”

He walks past me without answering and stares out the window. I use the moment to check the time. I have less than twenty minutes until I need to reappear downstairs and look presentable, so this is looking more and more like a bad idea.

“This platonic thing…” Andrew says suddenly, “I’ve realized it doesn’t really work for me.”

“I doubt the platonic thing has worked for anyone,” I start, but he turns around and the words get lodged in my throat.

He has somehow managed to silently unzip his pants and has taken out his huge cock that’s hard and red in his hand. He is slowly stroking himself just over the rim of the glistening head with a thumb and two fingers and I can see the veins lining his shaft clearly outlined as if under enormous strain. I’m stunned.

It’s the first time I actually see it and though I’ve had him inside me and felt him stretch me, it’s a whole new different shock to see it with my eyes. It’s menacing.

I’m completely lost for words and just stand there, hypnotized by his obscene activity—so confident and out in the open about how much he wants me right now. My pussy burns with want simply at the sight of him. My feet are locked into place and I know I’m not going anywhere, not before I’ve had him one more time. One last time.

“Come here,” he commands me in a low, coarse voice and I obey.