He Makes Me Hot
Mom’s been gone for about a year or so, leaving me and my stepdad, Justin, to fend for ourselves. And what was so important that she would abandon her eighteen-year-old daughter and new husband? She ran off to join the circus. No lie.
After all this time, I’ve finally accepted she’s probably not coming back. My gut feeling was confirmed when I came home one day to find Justin staring at divorce papers.
No tears or anything, just him focusing on the pages requesting he go from married man to newly single…just as soon as possible, please.
Finding him in the near-dark, looking down and dejected, I did the only thing I could think of…I hugged him, wrapped him in my arms and held on tight. “I’m sorry, J. You don’t deserve this.”
He’s broad, so I didn’t quite encircle him, but it was close-ish. He’s a firefighter, big and toned and sweet as the day is long. And my mother definitely hadn’t deserved him. From the moment she’d brought him home, it’d all been about how hot he was, how he had a steady job and would take care of us. That he was “going places.”
Stability was all that my mom saw when she looked at Justin. And sure, that’s what I’d thought about too…at first. After my real dad abandoned us when I was three, having a “normal” family seemed pretty awesome.
But then, Mom never got to know the sweetheart he really is. The man who would’ve brought flowers home to her, taken care of repairs around the house without being asked.
Justin is such a keeper.
Mom was just an idiot. A circus idiot.
They’d dated for two months, gotten engaged, and then were married within another two. Love at first sight, she’d said.
He went along for the ride.
That night, when I’d hugged him, I started feeling a lot less like a little girl, his stepdaughter, and a lot more like a woman. One who could look at Justin and see all of the good things about him, his true personality, his heart…and his body.
Oh, I’d been attracted to him before. No woman could look at his muscled body, sweet smile, and shining blue eyes and be unaffected. He’s the all-American boy, aged by about twenty years. Yeah, he’s hitting thirty-seven this year, but he still looks delicious.
So yeah, I hugged him, he patted my arm and then pulled away, signed the docs before he rose from his chair, pressing a tender kiss to my head. “No worries, Amber, it is what it is and we’ll get past it.”
It may be my imagination, but I remember his lips lingering against my temple, as if savoring the touch.
Of course, I could just be a horny teen, looking to bang my stepdad. I mean ex-stepdad.
It’s been a week since he signed the divorce papers, and we’re still acting as if nothing’s changed.
Okay, that’s a lie.
When I look at him, I see the toned body, the sheen of sweat that coats him after his workout, the way his muscles move beneath his skin. He still wanders through the house in nothing but a pair of shorts, giving me a good look at him, day in and day out.
And I think he’s noticed me, noticing him. I also think he’s looking in return.
It started as a look that lingered the tiniest bit too long, and now, he outright stares at me.
Of course, I parade around the house in tiny shorts and even tinier tank top. No bra, naturally.
The point is to get his attention. To see if he wants me as much as I want him. ‘Cause I do. Hard core, fuck me all night long, kind of wanting.
It’s Friday, and Justin has two days off. He’s been working like a fiend this week, and I figure it’s because he’s trying to avoid facing the fact that Mom is really, truly gone.
Doesn’t matter. He’s home tonight and I have a plan.
I’ve already showered, and so, I pick out my typical home wear. Except this time, I’m not wearing any panties and I’m definitely going braless. Just a thin, white, men’s undershirt, and teeny, tiny shorts. Hell, I could totally give the Hooters
Michael Bray, Albert Kivak