Stepbrother: No Boundaries (3 page)

Chapter 6

Scott

I sit at my desk with my feet propped up and the chair reclined to its maximum potential. The television’s on but I have it muted and I’m not even watching the pictures flutter by on the screen. I should
really
be working, but I can’t get my mind off Miranda. I’ve known her for so long and she’s been getting to me more and more with each passing day. I mean this not in a bad way, but the best possible way.

But I don’t like feeling weak. And I don’t like feeling in love.

The sky looks cold from my view on the top floor. It’s grey and cloudless, almost dead. Snow starts to sprinkle down and I watch it in a transfixed sort of way as I twirl the paperclip between my fingers. I don’t have anything else to do around here so I should stop kidding myself and embrace it.

I should really be working
, I tell myself again to try and feel better.

Fuck it
, another voice says and I turn my thoughts back to Miranda. There’s a knock on the door and I roll my eyes wondering who the fuck it is and what the fuck do they want.

“Yes?” I ask coldly.

The door opens and it’s Alexis, my secretary. She’s had her eyes on me since I hired her a year ago but I won’t give her the time of day. We had a fling once at a drunken office party but that was before I got with Miranda and if there’s one thing I’m
not
it’s a cheater. Besides, I have no interest in a woman who practically flings onto me such as Alexis. She’s too needy and too desperate, despite being attractive and with a good body – but too skinny for me.

“There’s a man here to see you about the Goldberg account.”

She says it like she’s asking me a question and I don’t like it. I don’t like incompetence. I consider being a smartass and confronting her about it but I don’t. I have to bite my fucking lip in order not to.

“Okay?” I say, “And his name, Alexis?”

“Um,” She pauses and looks at the ceiling nervously, “Fisher, I think?”

“You think.” I repeat coldly and smile at her in disbelief.
What did I hire this idiot for?

“I’m ninety percent sure.”

“Send him in, then.” I say, and begin to twirl the paperclip between my fingers again.

It’s not twenty seconds later when he walks in. I’m bored with him as soon as I see him. He’s one of the old school business types. It’s his life. He walks up to me and shakes his hand and his big beefy fingers grip mine and for a moment I realize that I’m no better than he is. He might not be as rich as me but he does well for himself and he’s wearing an expensive suit.

But not as expensive as mine
, I remind myself.

He sits down and begins spouting business jargon. I impress myself by somehow getting through the conversation successfully without even listening to him. It goes through one ear and out the other as I hold a fake smile on my lips and nod my head every ten or twenty seconds. He leaves and I prop my legs back up on the desk before flipping the volume back on the television.

Get out of my mind so much, Miranda
.

****

After ruminating for another hour or so to no disturbances (thank you, Alexis), I leave work early. There’s no point in me being there, anyway. There’s no point in me ever being there, if you want the truth. I’ve done all I can for the company, and now my employees handle everything while I take most of the money.

Don’t feel bad or guilty – you started the company and you’re giving them jobs
.

I walk up Wall Street and have decided to take the subway. I always have a driver at my building but I passed him by today and nodded my head. He looked puzzled and I didn’t care. I just felt like being alone.

Alone, until I get home to you
.

If she’s even home.
How is she getting to me so fucking bad
?
She never did this before, all those years I knew her… She’s still the same girl…

I bury my leather gloved hands into the pockets of my black wool trench coat and head down the filthy steps into the rank stink of the train station. I wait for ten minutes as I listen in on conversations. Poor people stand next to me talking about hustling for money. One of them says he’s going to sell his rock CD to a big record label and is expecting a lot of money in the next month. I glance over at him and see that he looks like a bum.
He’ll make it big
, I think, and there’s no sarcasm in my thought.

The 3 train barrels up and stops with a loud never-ending creak. I step on as the doors open and listen to the conductor’s voice, “Stand clear of the closing doors please.” He sounds tired and bored. He wants to go home and so do I.

I sit there for a few minutes and it feels like a blur to me. Then the speedy train begins to slow down and I watch the blur of “72
nd
street” etched on the walls of the station. I step off the train and walk slowly out of the station and up the steps. Traffic is loud and noisy and the snow has continued to accumulate since I left work. I’d say there’s about half an inch on the ground yet it hasn’t slowed traffic at all despite the frigid temperatures and frozen streets.

Horns honk and tires screech and people scream and the voices and sounds are all intermingled and I don’t pick up on any in particular. I zone out and begin to walk east towards my penthouse condominium. I wonder if Miranda’s even home – I’d be bored too if I didn’t have to work, but who am I fooling? I don’t have to work anymore.

She’s not there.

I sit down on the couch and flip on the television after carefully placing my shoes on the rack by the door. As I sprawl my legs out I flip the remote to dim the windows and the noises and bright grayness of the day begins to dissipate at once. There’s a sitcom on but I flip to the Spanish channel even though I don’t know Spanish. I grab a cigar laying on the table and the pack of matches next to it. I scratch the match against the box and let it burn until the flame barely singes my finger.

Good, I still feel pain
.

I light the cigar and suck in a thick fume of smoke then exhale it into the room. I don’t smoke in here but today’s an exception. Now if only I could have a scotch I’d be set, but I’m trying to cut down on my alcohol intake. The smoke tastes expensive and I don’t wonder what it’s doing to my lungs. I don’t smoke enough to wonder the repercussions of that.

It’s a luxury cigar and I don’t remember where I got it, or what country it came from. All I know is that I’m enjoying it, and when I hear the door open and glance over to see Miranda coming in with three packs of groceries my heart warms up and my stiff expression relaxes. I think about scolding her for buying groceries herself; we have servants for that.

Then I remember she’s not used to this lifestyle so I just smile. I know I was like her once, though it was so long ago I don’t remember. I remember bits and pieces of the poor lifestyle. Our folks had it rough, Miranda’s mom and my father. They got together when we were four. He was a factory worker and she was a retail manager. I’m twenty seven years old and I’ve been rich since I was twenty. Before that feels like a dream. A bad one. But I still remember playing with Miranda in the backyard. Pushing her on the tire swing, being a dick to her. I was an asshole as a child. Guess some things never change.

“Hey Scott,” She winks at me as she sets the groceries down, “You’re home early.”

“I wasn’t doing anything there. It was a waste of time.”

“I keep telling you that.”

“How would you know?” I tease her, “I don’t let you come to my office anyway. I could be the busiest son of a bitch in this town.” I wink.

“Sure you are.”

“If someone saw my bank account they’d think I was.”

She smiles and starts unloading the groceries. I get up and help her.
Why did I do that?
It’s not my job – it’s hers. God, she’s really changing me. My stepsister of all people. Is it for the better?
No, of course not
, I tell myself. I can’t let myself change for her. I’m a dick.

Chapter 7

Miranda

I can still smell his musk through the sweetly sick aroma of the cigar. I don’t know why he smokes those things. He’s in denial and says he doesn’t smoke them much but I bet he puffs three or four a week. Despite the idea of it being a turn off he looks sexy doing it, especially when he’s in a suit like right now.

He holds it loosely between his lips as he puts the oranges away and then stares at me. I can tell he doesn’t like this. I should have told him to stay sitting down, but he smiles. It’s a woman’s job, not a man’s. But that’s not it. That’s not it at all. He doesn’t like that I even got the groceries, he wishes I’d had the butler do it. But I feel guilty when I ask him to do simple chores when I’ve got nothing to do myself.

Scott seems to read my mind and speaks softly, “It’s what I pay him for. And I pay him very well.”

“I just didn’t have anything to do myself. You didn’t used to have a butler, Scott. Growing up we had our chores. We had to actually
do
the little things for ourselves, you know?” I say.

He smiles and walks back into the living room, “It’s Friday.” He says blankly.

“I know.”

“I just decided I’m going to make arrangements for us to fly out of New York tonight.”

“Where to?” My eyes light up.

“Don’t get too excited, Miranda. I need to be in Los Angeles on Monday so I figured we could spend the weekend there before I’m swamped with work.”

Work
, he says. Over and over. I’m sick of it. He seems to be gone five days a week from six in the morning until eight at night, and I know it’s not necessary. But I know he’s not seeing someone else. He wouldn’t bother. He’d just kick me to the curb if he wanted someone else and probably not speak to me anymore. I’d be the estranged Stepsister.

I think he’s just sitting in his office trying to find a purpose
.

“I’ve never been to the West Coast.”

“It’s nice, weather wise.” He sits on the couch and turns the TV off. Then he props both feet up on the table and crosses his legs. He’s still wearing his suit but he’s got no shoes on and I feel like walking over there and tackling him. How does he look so perfect without even trying?

I finish putting up the groceries and walk over to him. I surprise him from behind by placing my hands over his shoulders and squeezing down on his muscular neck. He fidgets a little and then relaxes before placing the cigar over an ash tray. He leans back and unzips his dress slacks…

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this… What would they think of us?” I lick my lips and feel my heart pounding.

“Come down here.” He says shakily.

I know what he wants.

I walk slowly to the front of the couch as I unbutton my shirt. I pull it off and let my big tits hang the way he likes. He stares at them and reaches in a casual manner for the cigar and then places it between his lips and lets it hang. He doesn’t ask, and knows he doesn’t have to.

I crouch down on my knees and pull his slacks down to his knees. The material feels fine and expensive, which I know it is. I run my wet tongue up his crotch as I pull his boxer briefs halfway down his legs, and then I take him in my mouth. His girth stretches my lips wide apart and I almost begin to gag, and he lays back and closes his eyes after stubbing out the cigar. He wraps his hands around my head and forces me further down on his massive dick.

He tastes good. I know he’ll come soon because I’ve gotten better at using my tongue
.

My tongue slides out on the bottom of his cock and swirls around as I feel his body beginning to tense. I tighten my lips around his shaft and suddenly he pulls away and stands up rigidly.

“I’ll be right back.” He crouches down and runs a finger across my chin before waving it in a
don’t move
kind of gesture.

I lick my lips and watch him go, knowing damn well where it is he’s going and what he’s going to get. He walks back into view a few moments later and he’s holding the blindfold in one hand and dangling the cuffs in another.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask, knowing exactly what he’s going to do. He likes me to ask, so I ask every time.

His cock hardens even more as I mutter the question and a stern look sweeps across his gorgeous face. He walks towards me with the cuffs and places them on, clicking them loudly and tightly into place as they secure my arms behind my back. Then he sits back down in the same spot and strokes his cock momentarily before placing the blindfold over my head.

“You know damn well what I’m doing, Miranda.” He rasps.

I reach forward to find his cock with my mouth alone since my hands are cuffed and behind my back. Considering the size of it, it’s pretty easy. I pick it up with my lips and feel the hardness of it sliding into my throat as I bob my head up and down on him in complete darkness of the blindfold.

His body squirms and his cock throbs, and I feel his big hands latched onto my head pulling it up and down, making me move the way
he
likes it. Teaching me how to
do it
, how to
suck his dick
. His cock throbs harder and then I feel him pull away and hear him gasping softly. He almost came, but apparently he isn’t ready for that. I want it badly, though. His hands grab me at the shoulders and he slides me a bit to my left until my arm is pressed against the table. I can feel and hear him crawling off the couch and standing in front of me; the heat of his cock practically permeates against my cheeks.

Then it came thrusting into my mouth ravenously and I had to steady myself firmly on my knees to keep from flying backwards. He held it there deep in my mouth before pulling out and running its head against my lips. A chuckle comes from his mouth and then he plunges his dick between my lips once more and holds it there for me to suck.

“Oh, Miranda…” His voice is a mere whisper.

I tighten my lips and suck him slowly but firmly. I can feel him swelling up inside of me and then he lets it out, the seed I so desperately want between my legs. It expels onto my tongue and I hold it there for a moment before pulling away and throwing my head back, the darkness taking over me as I swallow his load.

His fingertips caress my temples and then I can see again. He holds the blindfold with one hand as he caresses my soft skin with the other, his blue eyes beating into my face with intensity. His cock is still hard and throbbing as it stands before me, and he pulls me up to my feet and grabs a key out of his pocket before turning me around and taking the cuffs off.

I lick my lips and feel my pussy aching for his dick, but I know he’s not going to give it to me yet.

****

I bathe silently as I let the steaming water run over my hair and skin. I look out the window and see that the snow is still falling and I wonder if that will affect our flight, but since it’s his own jet probably not. I step out and towel myself dry and then begin to get ready. After I’ve put on my clothes I go back into the bathroom and carefully put on my makeup. I want to look good for him, especially since we’re taking a little trip.

Scott surprises me by stepping up behind me suddenly and wrapping his arms around my torso. He’s been showing me a lot more random acts of affection lately and I like it. It’s a nice balance between that and his absolute
asshole
side. 

It doesn’t take me long to put on makeup and I’m pretty good at it. It’s what I did for years before my secretary job, and it’s an art that I mastered and never forgot. A bit like riding a bicycle, I guess.

Scott moves towards my cheek and kisses it, and I know he probably smudged the foundation a bit. I don’t care, because it’s him and I’ve fallen hard for him over the past month. I twist around and lock my lips against his. He tastes minty, like he just brushed his teeth. He moves back and stares at me mysteriously before winking and leaving the room, and I wish I ever knew what he was thinking. His moods seem to change within a matter of seconds.

The blowjob must’ve been
good
.