Step Stalker

I’m up against enough skepticism from Lula. I don’t need Vanessa making it any worse.

There is only one woman I’ll ever want. If it was up to me, I would tell our parents everything right now. But I’ve pushed Lula enough in the last twenty-four hours. Now it’s time to have a little patience while she gets used to the fact that I’m not going anywhere.

After a moment, Vanessa nods reluctantly, dropping heavily into one of the dining room chairs. My father watches me curiously, like he wants to say something but chooses to read the sports page instead. As for my stepsister, she bites her lip and leaves the room, subtly indicating I should follow after her. As if I’d do anything else.

We meet at the base of the staircase, her incense and orange juice scent making my mouth water, along with her plump tits. Hell, every inch of her makes me hot. How in God’s name am I going to wait until tonight?

I shoot a glance toward the kitchen to make sure we’re not being watched, then I lean down and kiss her mouth, sliding my tongue in to pet hers once, twice, my cock unfurling in my jeans, in dire need of Lula’s pussy.

She pulls away with a scandalized expression, but she’s breathing fast. “Vale,” she says in a furious whisper, looking over her shoulder. “You can’t just d-do that.”

“I could if we told them you’re mine. They will eventually have to get used to it.”

Lula hedges. “I’m…I’m still not sure—”

“You’re not sure I’m thinking straight. Or that I know what I want.” I tip her chin up, trace her lower lip with my thumb. “Don’t worry, I’m going to clear it right up for you, princess.”

After a moment, she nods and relief settles in my gut.

“I didn’t sleep last night, so I’m going up to grab some now.”

I press my thumb into her mouth, groaning when she sucks on it reflexively, seeming to surprise even herself. Her eyelids turn heavy, her nipples pebbling against the front of her tank top. It’s on the tip of my tongue to order her upstairs into my bed. I’d love to spend the whole day there, riding her in every position known to man, but I need patience. She’s an emotional soul. And didn’t she tell me she has to meditate on decisions? Rushing Lula could only hurt me in the long run and I refuse to take chances with someone so important.

“Be ready to leave at seven.” Reluctantly, I slide my thumb back out of her gorgeous mouth, using the wetness to coat her lips, leaving them glossy. “Wear the skimpiest pair of panties you own. Enough skirt to keep other men from seeing what’s between your legs—what’s mine—but not enough I can’t yank it up when I need to.”

When I speak her to like this, commanding her gently, Lula gets the same expression on her face she had in the woods. When she took off her clothes and let the sunshine warm her bare skin. It’s an expression of belonging, relief, anticipation. Being my little girl is right for her in the way it’s right for me. In the way she’s right for me.

Tonight I’m going to make sure she realizes it fully.

Lula walks down the stairs that night and tension ripples in the air.

Our parents might not realize there is something going on between us, but they aren’t entirely comfortable with us going out together, either. Maybe they sense the truth. Maybe they could feel my arousal all the way downstairs throughout the day. Sleep never hit me. Every time Lula’s bed springs creaked on the other side of the bathroom. Every time she murmured into her phone or laughed or breathed, I had to restrain myself from charging into her room, pinning her down, getting the release only she can provide.

Not too much longer and I’ll be alone with her again. Finally.

Next time I’m inside of her, I’ll have her promise. She’ll be confident in my intentions.

I’m dressed for a date in black jeans, boots and a button-down shirt, which throws our parents even more. But they’re extra thrown when Lula descends the stairs in a plaid skirt, a low-cut black shirt tucked into it. Knee high black socks.

I’m erect in seconds.

My fierce sudden arousal makes it necessary for me to turn from the room and adjust myself, back teeth grinding. Next time Lula tries to imply she’s not sexy, I’m going to throw her over my knee and paddle that delicious ass, so help me God.

“You look…” Fuckable. Hot. Like a little girl who’s horny for a second round of dick from her stepbrother. “You look very nice, Lula.”

“Thank you,” she says, turning pink beneath her camping tan.

“Where are you going?” Vanessa inquires, her smile slightly brittle. “When will you be back? Lula is only eighteen, you know. She might legally be an adult, but she still has a curfew.”