Chapter FIVE
Scherri
We order in pizza for dinner. When Stick's dad calls out to Mom about dinner, he receives an abrupt response.
“I wasn't ready for unexpected guests, Darling. I only prepared a salad.”
“Salad?” he says, a look on his face like she said leech stew.
“Well, I know Scheherazade is always watching her weight. She has a tendency to pudge so easily.”
“Nonsense,” Stick's dad insists.
“Yeah, she looks pretty near perfect to me,” Stick adds shooting me a grin
I smile silent thanks across the room at him, feeling my cheeks pinken a little. He never lets me down. Still there to offer support right when I need it. It would have been great to have him around growing up, like the brother I never had. But no way I can think of him like that now. Not with my pussy throbbing eagerly just by looking at him.
And I can't stop gaping, marveling at the man he's become. What a man. The same thoughtful, solid guy but now, oh my god, solid in other ways. Ways that send rippling frissons of something decadent flying through me every time he meets my glance. His bulging chest pulled up to the table makes me clench thinking about trailing my fingers, and my tongue, along every last swell and ridge.
I have my heart set on Stick now. Maybe I always have. Now fate has put him in my way, knowing that I secretly always wanted him to be my first. I'm not oblivious to the way he's looking at me either. Every time I look over, his eyes are on me, exploring, ravishing me with his stare.
No hot-blooded girl with a crush and a need to get laid at last could miss the powerful vibe hurtling around the room. I don't give a shit if our parents got married. More fool them. I don't owe them anything and certainly not playing brother and sister for their dream of happy families. My time has arrived. My time to be Stick's girl for real.
He's been through so much though.
“Yeah it wasn't all easy sailing,” he replies to his father's insistent queries about his deployment to Syria. I can tell he's not wanting to go into all the details. The pain behind his eyes is ever present. “I saw a bunch of stuff I wish I hadn't, but whatever doesn't kill you, right?”
“Right, we can talk about it later, Son,” his dad nods, clearly assuming Stick's reticence is on my account.
As Stick answers all his father's questions with his typical good-natured vibe, I can tell there's something up with him. I'm pretty sure I know him better than anyone, same as he knows me. And there's more lying beneath the surface than he's letting on.
“So is your term done now? What's next?” I ask breathlessly, stupidly hoping that somehow his 'next' includes me.
Even though we just set eyes on each other again after five whole years.
“I did a three year stint, then was released to on call for the second three year term.”
“What have you done for the last two, where are you living?”
“I've been studying, catching up on life. Went out with the Guard for a couple of stints.”
His father frowns at that but the sound of the door chime interrupts us and he gets up to pay the delivery guy.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
I ought to go help with plates and stuff but I'm more interested in being alone with Stick for just a few seconds.
“Yeah. Better for seeing you. I can't believe you're here. Same time as me, I mean.”
“I know, what are the odds? My mother called me, all dramatic that my grandmother is on her last legs and will likely die soon. I don't know whether I even believe her.”
“She wouldn't lie about something like that surely.”
I roll my eyes at him. This is my mother after all.
“Right.” He nods, the memory of all the past stuff coming back. Then he grins. “I'm sorry about your gran but I'm glad you're here and that we can – you know – get back to where we were.”
“Friends you mean?” I ask, trying not to let my disappointment show.
“Holden, Scheherazade, do you want any dinner this evening or shall I feed it to the dog?”
Stick's face falls and I know what just flew through his mind.
“I can't believe she said that.” I say.
So mean, especially as they don't even have a dog. I won't let him face that loss without a comforting hug.
“I miss him too,” I add, as I throw my arms around his waist. He stands solid, his arms splayed out at his sides before he finally curls them around me.
The biceps enveloping me feel like a pair of steel bands. A delicious sense of security almost overwhelms me, as I savor the strength of his embrace. How I'm held totally protected in his powerful arms.
“Yeah, this place quickly stopped being home for me. First you gone, then Stone right after. But you're back now.”
He breaks the hug and all I want to do is hurl myself back there.
“I haven't had the chance to hear anything about you, I've been hogging the limelight here.”
I know why he separated us. The massive bulge growing in his pants and pressing against my tummy was too enormous to ignore.
Or resist.
The urge to grind against the rock hard swell was unbearable. My pussy twitches and clenches with eager need for more. All I want is Stick inside me, filling me, stretching my walls to their utmost limit. I have no idea what that would feel like, never having experienced a man all the way inside my secret inner chamber, But now I know without doubt the man that penetrates me first has to be Stick.
“That's it, Scheherazade. If you and your brother aren't at the table in ten seconds, dinner is canceled.”
“Why do I feel six years old?” I hiss.
“Love hasn't made her any happier then?” Stick says, taking my hand to lead me through to the newly redecorated formal dining room.
“She hasn't changed one bit unfortunately,” I tell him. But I don't care because Stick is here and my hand feels so small and safe inside his huge paw. The tingling sensation running from his hard fingers all the way through me down to my toes is inspiring an insatiable desire in every pore. One I don't think I can control much past dinner.
I've had the hots for guys before, of course. Usually the hunky ones, because the kind and caring ones that reminded me of Stick, turned out to be wimps I didn't want close to me. Now I realize how every other guy fell short in my unconscious comparisons to my old pal. How I held off. Waiting, hoping for the man that really moved me to be the first. Now I understand what I was waiting for.
He palms his free hand in the small of my back, to press me gently in front of him into the dining room. His hand on me, the brush of my arm, the side of my breast against his rock hard swell of pectoral muscle, makes my knees go so floppy I have to grab for the chair to hold me erect.
I tumble somewhat awkwardly into the seat and the squelch of wetness between my thighs makes itself plain. Oh my cotton socks, I am dripping with lust for my stepbro.