Sweet Little Memories (Sweet #3)
Abbi Glines
THE SOFT CLICK OF MY bedroom door closing woke me. The dark curtains and black out shades that covered my windows made it impossible to tell if it was morning or not.
Yawning, I rubbed my face hard. I couldn’t have been asleep long. It felt as if I’d just gone to bed.
“We’re home,” Hilda whispered.
That was enough to wake me up. Grabbing the covers, I quickly sat up and squinted to see in the darkness just as I felt her sit down on the edge of my bed. She was close enough that I could smell her perfume.
“What are you doing in here?” I was panicked my father would find her in my room. He’d forgive her easily enough. It was me he’d blame and I’d pay for this.
Her hand touched my thigh and I jerked away.
“I’ve missed you.” She sounded pouty. I could hardly see her in the darkness of the room, but I knew her expressions. I could imagine the pouty face she was making as she spoke to me. Two months ago, I would have gotten hard and excited from her presence or touching me. I knew what to expect from her. Now, her presence was different.
“You can’t be in here.” I spoke firmly, disregarding her responding sigh. Didn’t she know she wasn’t welcome? When she was working as our housecleaner, I was thrilled to have her sneak in my room and suck my dick. I liked her even better the day she stripped naked and straddled me then fucked me. And we had fucked a lot. At least until my dad had decided she was going to be wife number three.
“I’ve been in Spain for three weeks. Haven’t you missed me?”
“Are you kidding me?” My voice conveyed the incredulousness of the situation. She was my stepmother now. Had she really thought we’d continue as we had? As soon as my father had put an engagement ring on her finger, we stopped touching each other. She had become the adoring fiancée and spent her time planning the wedding. No more blow jobs in my closet or fucking in the pool house.
Her hand found my leg again. “He’s old and he’s mean. I miss you. I miss your body and the way you make me feel.” She leaned closer to me, forcing me to back away. I didn’t have much room to avoid her touching me.
“You married him. Deal with it,” I replied as coldly as I could. I understood better than anyone how mean he was. Mean was too kind a word to describe my father if you asked me. I had warned her of his anger issues. She hadn’t listened.
“Winston.” She sighed and leaned into me. I felt her breath on my cheek. “Don’t hate me. I can’t do this without you. We need each other.” Her hand found my dick and it didn’t stiffen immediately the way it once had at just the sight of her. The image of my dad walking in on us was enough to keep my dick limp. She had no idea how bad his anger could get.
“I need you to leave,” I demanded. She didn’t move away. She didn’t seem to hear me at all. Her mouth found my neck and she started placing soft kisses below my ear. Frustrated, I grabbed her arms and forced her away from me. “Don’t you get it? He will fucking kill me. You won’t be his wife long. He has his divorce attorney on speed dial, and that prenup you signed is ironclad. This can’t happen. You don’t want the outcome any more than I do.”
She sniffled and sounded like she was crying. I sighed in frustration as I left the bed and stomped across my room. I knew well enough where things were to maneuver in the dark. She didn’t. At least I hoped she didn’t.
“He works all the time. He’s gone now. He dropped me off and left without an explanation. I’m all alone. I need someone to hold me.”
She had flirted with him, dressed in barely any clothing when he was around and successfully reeled him in. She got what she wanted. It was time she learned what it meant to be his wife. His constant absence was part of it.
“He will rarely be home. You’ll be given unlimited funds to spend. Slowly, you will grow apart, and in time, he’ll replace you. You’ll get a nice home, enough money to live comfortably and you can even join the ex-wives club. I hear the others have started one.” That last bit was a lie. My mother and former stepmother hated each other.
“I don’t care if he’s here. He’s not the one I want. My body craves you. I miss your touch. I miss having you inside me. I need you to make me come.” I heard my sheets moving as she spoke. I wasn’t sure what she was doing and my annoyance level was breaking records. The reason for the sheets shuffling was soon unveiled. “I’m naked. Come back to bed. Fuck my mouth.”
The thought of seeing Hilda naked in my bed sucking my dick had me hardening against my better judgment. I wouldn’t do anything about it though. I wasn’t an idiot, but I would end up getting myself off with that image once I got her out of here. Girls my age didn’t suck cocks like she did. Her cock sucking ability was pretty damn perfect.
“No.” That didn’t sound nearly as threatening as I’d wanted to.
“I’m so wet. I’ve thought of you all day. Knowing I’d see you tonight. Come back here and fuck me, Winston. Make me moan.”
Dammit, she had me swollen verging on painful now. I was glad I couldn’t see her. That would make this worse. I knew she was my stepmother, but she still had a killer body. As good as any I’d seen watching porn. She also did dirty shit like the women did in porn. Girls my age weren’t that adventurous either.
“Leave. Please get out. We are done. You’re his wife, my new stepmom, and what happened before is finished.”
She was silent for a moment. I listened, afraid she would stand from the bed and walk over to press her naked body against me. If she got on her knees and went for my dick with her mouth, I wasn’t sure I had the strength to stop that. No man did.
“You’re going to miss me. You’ll want my body again. And when you do, I will be waiting. It’s an adjustment. I’m here, and I understand it’s different because I’m your stepmother now. But nothing else changed. I still want you.”
“Then why did you marry him?” I shot back. The day she’d told me I had been devastated. Not because I loved her, but because I knew what we’d done together was over.
“You’re too young. He had the ability to give me a new life. One with things I’d never had. Expensive things. Travel. It was all I had ever wanted in life—or thought it was. After the wedding, it sank in that he would never be you. He would never make me feel like you do.”
Hilda was thirty. I was sixteen. Did she seriously think I believed this? How did I make her feel? Every time we were together, she was the one teaching me things.
“You married him. That’s all that matters now.”