Step Demands (Taboo Steamy Romance)

Step Demands

By

Nikki Wild

Copyright 2015 Nikki Wild

All Rights Reserved

Although I hold the copyright to this naughty story, this ebook is completely
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–Nikki Wild

Step Demands

(Taboo STEAMY Romance)

What’s inside this very naughty taboo story?

Did I really just let my stepbrother cum inside me?

Melanie's little dressmaking shop typically doesn't see much business. So she is understandably surprised when, five minutes before closing time, a man comes sprinting through her door. He needs a last minute alteration to his custom suit, and he needs it done, right now.

Amber's mother is marrying Dean Nolan in the morning, so the timing couldn't be more wrong. But there's something about the man that makes her want to help. Maybe it's his sparking green eyes, or maybe it's the wad of bills he promises her for a job well done.

As Amber begins to take his measurements, sparks fly. As the two tease and flirt and fuck, the tension rises to a fever pitch. Until Amber finally gets his name.

Jacob Nolan.

Dean's son

Her stepbrother-to-be.

Turn the page, and let me sweep you away into a world of dirty fantasy…

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STEPBROTHER DEMANDS

I’d just done it, hadn’t I? It all seemed so unreal. I could still feel my stepbrother’s cum filling me to the bursting point. How had this happened? How did I let him fuck me? Oh God… What would our parents say???

My mind drifted back. It had all happened so fast…

***

"So I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, right Melanie?"

"Of course you will, Mom!" I sighed into the phone. "I'll be at your house right at eight."

"And you're closing the shop for the day?"

I sighed. "Yes mother," I promised.

"Good, I don't want you worrying about it all day either. You're my maid-of-honor, I need your full attention."

"Of course, Mom."

I could hear my mother's smile over the phone. "Can you believe it, baby? Tomorrow I'm going to be Karen Nolan. Mrs. Dean Nolan! I'm getting married, Melanie, can you believe it?"

I looked up from the piece of paper I had been doodling on for the entire conversation and stared out the plate glass front of my shop out to the street beyond. Passers-by hurried along the sidewalks, seemingly headed everywhere but through my door.

"No I can't, Mom!" I exhaled. "I'm so happy for you, I really am. Dean is a catch."

"He is, isn't he?" My mother lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The things that man knows how to do in bed...."

"Mother!" I squealed. "Please don't!"

"Oh come on now, we're both grown women."

"I know, but I don't like hearing about it. It's weird that my mother gets more action than I do."

"Oh Melanie, maybe you'll meet someone at the wedding," my mother said sympathetically.

"Thanks Mom," I said sarcastically. "Listen, I close in about fifteen minutes. I need to go start counting up my drawer."

"Okay sweetie. Hope you made lots of money today!" she trilled brightly and then hung up without saying goodbye. I stared at the phone for a moment before sighing and turning to my cash register.

There was nothing to count up because I hadn't made any money today. Not a single person had walked through my door in the full ten hours I was open today.

And the paper I had been doodling on? A past due notice on my business loan.

I knew when I opened the place that I was taking a risk. The rest of the students in my fashion classes went on to work for big design houses. We kept in touch after college and all of them complained to me that they hadn't touched a bolt of fabric since graduation.

Me, I did things differently. I wanted to make beautiful clothes. A custom dressmaking and tailor shop suited my talents beautifully. I was a whizz with a needle and thread, and could whip up gorgeous custom creations for happy clients in no time flat. The tailoring aspect, while not quite as interesting to me, was meant to keep the shop afloat in between design clients. I thought a steady stream of hems and alterations would be my bread and butter.

Six months since my grand opening and I had barely anything to show for it... Well… Nothing except a gorgeously decorated empty shop and a pile of past-due notices.

"For fuck's sake, people, doesn't anyone want something hemmed?" I shouted at the scurrying passers-by.

But no one came in. I was talking to myself.

With a heavy sigh, I turned to the back room. There wasn't much left to clean up for closing. I turned off the beautiful antique steam iron, checked to see that the reservoir was filled with distilled water and double-checked the sewing machines. I hadn't needed to turn them on, so why did I think I needed to turn them off? I wasn't sure.

"I guess that's it then," I spoke to the empty room. It was ten minutes until my officially closing time, but I didn't see the sense in standing around until the bitter end. Tomorrow was my mother's wedding; I could use the time to mentally prepare.

I grabbed the keys to the front door from my purse and sighed. A whole day wasted. This was getting ridiculous.

Just then I heard the bell over the door jingle. "Hello?" called a breathless male voice.

I darted around the corner just in time to see a man rush up to my counter and drop a garment bag onto the it. I saw the telltale logo of a luxury department store so fancy we didn't even have it in this small, provincial city.

"Are you still open?" the man asked.

I opened my mouth to tell him I was closing but something stopped me. Maybe it was the emerald glint in his startlingly green eyes. Maybe it was the way his dark blond hair was the color of burned honey. Maybe it was the hopeful smile that played about his ridiculously kissable lips.

Maybe I was just desperate for male attention? That was probably it.

"Yes we are," I smiled back at him. "What can I do for you?"

He unzipped the garment bag with a sneer of distaste. "My assistant bought this for me, and like an idiot I trusted that she found the right size. I just tried it on in my hotel room and it's so oversized it's comical. I need the whole thing taken in."

"Sure, I can do that, no problem!" I smiled, trying to keep the desperate gratitude out of my voice. "When do you need it by?"

He fixed me with his emerald stare as regret played about his lips. "Tomorrow morning."

I froze with my pen in mid-air. "Seriously?"

"Yes," he shot me rueful look. "I know it's a lot, but if you can fit me in, I'll make it worth your while."

I was still frozen. Mom's wedding was tomorrow. I promised to be there at eight in the morning. "I'm sorry, it's just not possible...."

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet that cost more than my car, then pulled out a wad of bills. "I'm desperate," he told me.

I swallowed hard. The stack of bills would keep my shop afloat for another month. "Okay," I relented. "Let's get you changed."

"Thank you," he breathed, turning to look around my store. "Over there?" he gestured to the curtained off corner I used as a changing room.

He was going to be the first person that went in there in weeks. "Yes!" I smiled brightly, watching him as he turned and went over. The broad sweep of his shoulders in his button-down shirt was doing strange things to my stomach. As was the tight punch of his butt as it was outlined in his jeans.

Taking in the crotch of his suit was going to be quite appealing.

I licked my lips as he closed the curtain, then forcibly turned my head so that wasn't staring creepily while he changed. I leafed through old orders so that he would hear me being busy and not think I was quite as pathetic as I actually was. The rustling noises in the changing room were making my throat run dry with the image of his naked body popping right to the forefront of my brain.

Several moments went by without any more noises. "Are you okay in there?" I called.

There was a soft curse and then a low, slow, chuckle. "I feel ridiculous," he called out.

"I'm sure I've seen worse," I reassured him. "I'm a professional."

"What's you name?" he asked, quite suddenly.

"Melanie," I croaked, confused.

"Hi Melanie, I'm Lance," he yelled from behind the curtain. "I felt like we should know each other before you see me like this.

He drew back the curtain and I had to catch my giggle against the back of my hand. "I know," he said. "It barely even fits at all. I'd go buy another one, but this is the style I'm supposed to wear."

"Wedding?" I nodded.

"Yep."

"Of course," I agreed. "Brides can be quite funny about this sort of thing."

He waddled forward, holding the waistband of the trousers up with his fist. "It's not even her first wedding," he complained.

"Oh gee," I giggled. "Someone wants a second chance to be a princess?"

"Maybe that's it," he agreed. "Good insight."

I smiled and looked down. "Go ahead and step up on the platform please,"

He dutifully stepped up to the three-way mirror and I grabbed my pins and knelt down to his hem. "I can't do this until I get that waistband taken care of," I realized, standing up quickly.

His startled face was right there, inches from mine. "Sorry," he said quickly, "I was just curious about the woman kneeling at my feet."

I crooked smile at him. "What, you're not used to that type of treatment?"

"They're not usually this beautiful," he grinned.

I blushed. Oh my god, was he flirting with me? "I find that hard to believe."

"Why's that?"

"Because you're...." I gestured futilely with my hands, taking in his sculpted body and chiseled face.
Gorgeous,
I wanted to say,
sexy, ridiculous, and unfairly hot.

Instead I bit my tongue and walked around to his back. "Let go, please," I told him, tugging at the waistband.

"If I let go, my pants will fall down."

"I'll catch them," I teased.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm a professional," I reassured him.

"I suppose we did introduce ourselves," he said archly and let go of the trousers.

I grabbed the excess fabric before it fell to the ground, but not before I was afforded a stunning view of his rear end, perfectly framed by his boxer briefs. It was so casual, so intimate, that I felt the slow throb of desire begin to drum inside of my belly. The way the muscles of his lower back swooped into two perfectly formed mounds was breathtaking, like viewing a piece of sculpture.

Sculpture I wanted to bite.

Get ahold of yourself, Melanie
, I hissed to myself.

"Did you say something?" Lance looked at our reflections in the mirror, his eyebrows arched in a question.

Oh god, did I just say that out loud?
"Oh no, I was just yelling at this waistband," I lied. "I'm going to have to take each seam in so you don't end up with a weird mono-pocket back here."

"Mono-pocket?"

"That's when you take the back seam in too much and the pockets touch," I grinned.

"I never even considered that," he marveled. "You really are a professional."

"Thank you!" I smiled as I pinned. It felt so good just to be flirting again. My dry-spell had gone on for way too long. "You seem pretty professional too."

"I try," he said. "But my board thinks otherwise."

"Your board?"

"Shareholders," he muttered darkly.

"I have...no idea what you're talking about."

"That's for the best. Is this your shop, Melanie?"

"It is," I told him proudly as I drove a pin into the buttery soft fabric. This was the nicest suit I had ever touched. I almost didn't want to cut in to it.

"Good girl," he said. "Keep it that way. Don't let other people try to tell you how to run your own business. That's a mistake I wish I could go back in time to erase." There was a sad note of regret in his voice that made me paused with a pin in my mouth and look up at his reflection.