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* * *
A knock soundsat the door and opens before I can even get off the couch. I drink from my beer and remain seated as she storms inside, huffing and puffing while mumbling something under her breath. "What do you want?"
"Your dad and I got into a fight. I left. I'm not sure that I'm going back."
"And I'm supposed to care, why?"
She stops in front of me, blocking my view of the TV with her hands on her hips. Her dress is barely covering her ass. "Because we're family."
"No, we're not. You're just a gold-digging bitch. I'm not blind like my father." The sound of a touchdown occurs, pissing me off that I missed it. "Would you move? Fuck. What do you want? Go run to some of your little girl friends and do whatever the fuck girls do when they're upset about stupid shit. He's your husband, not mine. Figure it out and leave me the hell out of it."
I down the rest of my beer and set the bottle on the side table. The sudden sobs are louder than the damn TV. "I just wanted someone to talk to that understands. You don't have to be such a dick."
Ah, shit. I rub my hands up and down my face, leaning over to rest my elbows to my knees. "What is it this time, Rebecca?"
She walks toward me and sits on the couch beside me, tears still soaking her face. "He works nonstop. He's always at one of those damn liquor stores. I've tried to talk to him, to tell him I need him, but he just brushes it off like it's not important. I'm lonely. I need more than an empty house."
It's the same old shit. It gets old hearing the bitching, over and over again like a broken record. If you ask me she should be happy. She could have a deadbeat asshole that sits at home and beats her. "I'm sure your high limit credit card keeps you company."
"Don't fucking judge me, Bryant. He takes care of you too so you can go to school and party. I don't see you turning it down."
"Taking business classes so I can fucking take his place. Get it right. Why are you bitching anyway? There are a lot of people out there that have it worse. I'm sure the bruises covering their bodies prove it. And lonely? When you're all alone raising a kid with no help you'll see what lonely is. Now, if you don't mind, I have a game to watch. You're killing my buzz."
She stands like she's going to leave, but instead straddles me as she removes her dress, leaving nothing to the imagination: no bra, no panties. "What the hell are you doing? Put your clothes back on."
"We're not that different—you and me. We both love a man that is too busy for us. He shoves a credit card in our faces to shut us up so he can go to wine shows and business conferences and poker tournaments, but everyone needs someone to be there every once in a while." She grabs the elastic band of my shorts, trying her damnedest to work them over my dick enough to expose it. "Come on. No one has to know. I'd be willing to bet everything that he doesn't go without. I've smelt perfume on his clothes before when he didn't think I noticed."
She kisses me without pause, stroking my dick in her hand as if I'd actually fuck my dad's wife. The fucker has the nerve to get hard. I try to pull away. "Stop. You're my 'stepmom' for fuck's sake."
She maneuvers down my legs, pulling my shorts down further as she hits her knees, not listening. "You know I don't like those terms any more than you do, Bryant. We're the same age."
"That's the fucked-up part."
She wraps her pink lips around my cock anyway and immediately starts to suck. "Jesus."
My head hits the back of the couch, my eyes closing as her head bobs up and down on my cock, and in the time it takes me to come in her mouth my thoughts are quiet. It doesn't register who is blowing me, just that someone is. And it feels fucking good.
But the second she releases me and crawls back on my lap, I go limp just from the sight of her. She notices and starts stroking me again. "Get up."
"That's what I'm trying to do."
"Not my cock, bitch, you. Get the fuck out of my house."
"What?"
I stand, not giving her enough time to pull her feet down before she slides off. I tuck my dick back in my shorts and grab the can off the table, crushing it and throwing it at the wall. "You think you can come in here, suck me off, and I'll forget everything? I don't want you. I don't want to fuck a pussy my dad has worn out. That's fucking sick."
I grab her by the arm and pull her up, grabbing her dress in my other hand, before leading her to the door. "Let's get one thing straight, slut. Even if he were cheating on you, in which I know he isn't, I wouldn't fuck you as some sort of twisted payback. You're just a number, baby; another fuckable pussy like the rest of them. He's blood. And that's thicker than the shit pooling between your legs, you whoring con artist. You don't want a hard-working family man then take your shit somewhere else, but it won't be at my door. I'll keep my mouth shut this once, but if I find out you so much as look outside your own backyard again without a divorce granted to back it up, you'll regret it. Now get the fuck out."
I open the door and shove her over the threshold still naked, locking my door. My hands pull at my hair, the filth consuming me. I need a shower and I need pussy. Someone's got to wash off the trash. Maybe even two.
* * *
I glanceat the building one last time before getting in my truck. Yeah, it should have been me. I shove the key in the ignition and pull my cell phone from my pocket, texting Joel back.
Me:I'll be on the next flight out. Don't do anything stupid.
The tires spin as I pull out of the parking lot. It's been a while since he's asked me to come. And then it dawns on me why he did. "Dammit." I speed up, because if I don't get there he's likely to fuck up bad this time.
