Stepbrother Master (11 page)

The house was dark when I finally pulled into the garage. Mac was settled up in Griff’s spare bedroom, and the old man fussed over him like a mother hen, if I’d ever seen one. Maybe I’d just found a way to get Griff to retire a little more quickly—by putting him in charge of Mac’s recovery.

I eased the door shut and slipped into the kitchen. It was after midnight already, and the house was silent. Glancing down at my dirt-and grass-stained jeans, I knew I needed to head straight to my own damn room to strip and shower and call it a night, but my feet still carried me right to Emma’s door. Despite Mac’s condition, I’d been thinking about her nonstop since I saw her gardening. What I had to say couldn’t wait, even if I had to wake her up for it. Sitting in that waiting room for hours on end, I remembered something my dad had told me years ago: there were some things you just didn’t wait to tell someone.
I love you
and
I’m sorry
were two of those things
.
Because if you waited too long, there were no guarantees that you’d ever have another chance. Emma could pack her bag and walk out of here tomorrow, and I might never see her again. If that happened, I’d be left with nothing but memories and regret. It wasn’t a chance I wanted to take.

I rapped on her door softly and waited a few moments—hating that I felt the need to knock at all and couldn’t just walk in—before lifting my hand to knock again, but the door swung open before my knuckles could connect with the wood. Emma stood there, wearing the same damn Daisy Duke shorts and shirt she wore earlier.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked.

She shrugged. “How’s Mac? His leg?”

“Clean break, even though it looked messy as fuck. Luckily, they were able to set it and he didn’t need surgery, otherwise I would’ve been there all night.”

Releasing a long breath, she leaned against the doorjamb. “Thank goodness. I’ve been so worried. He might be cocky as hell, but he’s so dang endearing that you can’t help but like him.”

Jealousy flared within me, which was ridiculous. She was talking about Mac, who’d just broken his leg. I was still getting my reaction under control when she added quietly, “I couldn’t sleep thinking about it. Too damn worried something horrible had happened. It’s crazy how something even as simple as a broken leg makes me think of how fast we lost my dad. I remember seeing him on a Wednesday morning, giving him a hug, not realizing it would be the last time I ever saw him.” Her eyes misted with tears for a second, but she blinked them back just as quickly. “I never know what’s going to bring that memory to the forefront. Makes you step back and realize what’s important.” She took a deep breath, and I could read how distraught she really was. It was just another thing to love about her. “Anyway, is that all you wanted to tell me?” She pushed away from the door and crossed her arms.

I stepped forward, crowding her space. She dropped her arms, backing up a step, but I continued forward until we were both inside the room and I could shut the door behind us. “I owe you an apology. I said some shit that I shouldn’t have said. I had no business running my mouth about your mom. I … I’m really, truly sorry, Emma.”

“Ford—”

“Let me get this out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“The week our folks were gone? That meant something to me. I didn’t expect it to happen. Didn’t expect to fall for you. But I did. You’re the whole package. Sexy as fuck in the bedroom and amazing as hell out of it. To get a taste of that and have it all snatched away just as soon as I got it—that ripped me up. I didn’t know how to deal with it except to lash out. Swiping at you was a reflex, and a shitty one, at that.”

“Ford—”

“If you’re not going to forgive me and tell me that you don’t give a fuck about the labels—stepbrother or stepsister—then I’m going to keep apologizing until you get there. I’ve had too much damn time to think about this over the last couple days, and I’m not letting you go unless I know for a fact that there’s no way in hell you’ll give this a shot.”

She stepped forwarded and pressed her palms against my chest. “Ford, shut up.”

I shut up.

“If you think you’re the only one who has been miserable for days, then you’re wrong. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told myself this can’t possibly work; I can’t turn it off. Because you’re the whole package too. How did you put it? Sexy as fuck in the bedroom and amazing as hell out of it? I’m pretty sure you’ve wrecked me for any other man.”

I wrapped my arms around her and hauled her against my chest. “Thank fuck.” I inhaled the scent of her hair. “Because I couldn’t imagine not feeling you against me like this.” I skimmed my lips along her jaw. “Not tasting you again.” Against her lips I whispered, “Not kissing you again.”

              Emma opened to me and our tongues met and tangled. And holy fuck, my girl could kiss. Two days without this had seemed like a lifetime. Her eagerness shone in every move—from the fingers gripping my shoulder muscles, to the whimpers falling from her lips. I pulled my mouth away, sliding my hand from Emma’s hair down around her hips to her front. Cupping Emma between her legs, I growled, “Couldn’t imagine never being inside you again.”

She moaned, pressing herself against me.

“I couldn’t imagine that either. Even when I said I didn’t want this, I couldn’t imagine that … Ford,
please
. I need…”

              I ducked, caught her behind her knees and shoulders, and lifted her in the air. “That’s all you have to say, sweetheart. You remember your safe word?”

“Pink,” she said, and I grinned.

“Fucking beautiful, sweetheart. Fucking beautiful.”

I carried her to the door. Her eyes widened. “What are you—”

              “I’m covered in dirt and grime, and I just dirtied you up too. I think it’s time we strip down and clean up.”

Her eyes dropped to the gray smudge on her shirt, and when she lifted them back to mine, they were sparkling. “You know how much I liked shower sex last time, right?”

It was that spark, that fire, that inner glow that drew me to her from the beginning, and she just continued to burn so damn bright. Emma reached for the door handle, pushing it open. We stepped into the hallway, and I expected her to freeze up, head darting from side to side, looking for someone who might see us, as soon as my feet touched the wood floor. But she didn’t. Her eyes never left mine. My heart swelled a little. It was just as I’d taught her. I was in control of everything; all she had to do was let go.

The conviction reflected in her eyes hurried my steps toward the bathroom. Fuck, I needed her naked and wet, with my dick buried inside that sweet pussy.

Emma flipped on the light switch as soon as I shouldered the bathroom door shut, but I didn’t lower her to her feet until we stood in front of the shower.  I let her slide down my body, uncaring now that she was getting my grime on her. I’d get her clean and then I’d dirty her back up again with everything I was going to do to her. The feel of her curves pressing against me had my hard-on raging in my jeans.

“You need to be naked in five seconds, or I’ll be stripping those clothes off you soaking wet.” I crushed my lips to hers. Instead of following my orders, Emma’s fingers tangled in the hem of my T-shirt and dragged it up my body. I pulled back, letting her yank it up and over my head.

“In a hurry?”

“I haven’t seen you naked in
way
too long. So yeah, you could say I’m in a hurry. For the record, your body is insane.”

I couldn’t help the smile radiating from my lips down to my toes. “As is yours, sweetheart. My cock aches just thinking about you.”             

I pushed open the glass door, reaching inside the shower enclosure. My chuckle echoed off the glass as I flipped the faucet on hot. I stared down at her as steam began to waft out the open door. “Now shirt off. I think you know I’m just as excited to see you naked, sweetheart.”

Her fingers dropped to the bottom of her shirt and tugged it upward, exposing inch after inch of perfect, creamy skin. My chuckle quieted into a groan as it slipped over the swells of her tits.

Jesus
, I’d missed those. I covered her hands with mine and pulled the T-shirt up and over her head the rest of the way myself.

“Guess you are excited.”

“You have no idea.”

I grabbed a condom out of my pocket before dropping my hands to the button of my jeans. Emma was right there with me, stripping hers off just as quick. Our remaining clothes were gone in seconds, and then we both stood naked, staring at each other.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I said, my voice low and husky.

“And you have to know you’re pretty much every woman’s fantasy, right?”

I shook my head. “Don’t care about any other woman but you. Now get in the shower, sweetheart. We’ve got lost time to make up for.”              

I loved the shiver that rippled through her, and my cock jumped when she turned and flashed that gorgeous ass at me as she stepped in the shower.
Fuck, that ass.
Ideas began to form as I followed her inside.

Emma was already under the spray, turned sideways, water soaking her hair, and running down her body in rivulets. She turned to me, and primal, gut-wrenching
need
ripped through me. As a Dom, I prided myself on control, but right now, I just wanted my woman. Rough, hot, and hard. Against the wall of the fucking shower.

I ripped the condom package open with my teeth and slid it on as she turned to face me. In two steps, I had her up against the wall, her legs wrapped around my waist, and the water dripping down my face and sluicing off my back. It was as though everything that had stood between us—the labels, the harsh words—all washed away.

My mouth found hers, and I
feasted
. I relearned every corner of her mouth with my tongue. Every curve of her body with my hands. Just like I was going to relearn every slick inch of her pussy with my cock. By the time I lifted my head, Emma was bucking against me, and the wetness on the ridge of my abs had nothing to do with the water falling around us.

“Please. I want—”

“And you’re gonna get everything you want, sweetheart. This is going to be hard and fast. You’ve got your safe word if you need it.” 

Emma’s nails scored the muscles of my shoulders. “No. I want that. Hard and fast. Right now. Don’t hold back, Ford. Give me everything you’ve got.”

I squeezed her hips and slid my palms up and down her legs.  “Is that tight little cunt even ready for me, sweetheart?” I had my doubts, remembering the first time we were together in the hot tub. She could barely take me all in, and now, it had been several days since I’d stretched her … filled her.

Her thighs clenched my waist. “Yes,” she said, nodding.

I pulled away, releasing one hip with my hand so I could grip my cock and position myself at her entrance. Even the heat of the shower had nothing on the heat of her body. I didn’t bother to hold back my groan. “Fuuuck, sweetheart. You’re gonna burn me alive.”

“Don’t tease me, Ford.”

My eyes snapped to hers. “You forget who gives the orders here?”

Emma’s eyes sparked right back. “Fuck me and then spank me, but please,
God,
don’t make me wait.”

The woman knew how to push my buttons, and I knew damn well she was topping from the bottom.

“Your ass will be red later, but for now, I’m gonna give us what we both need,” I said, and then I thrust. The hot, slick heat of her body gripped my cock as I pushed inside.

Home.
I was home.

Emma’s whimpers and moans were the sounds I wanted to echo in my shower for the rest of my goddamn life. I thrust over and over, until we were both mindless with pleasure. I shifted my hand to cover her clit with my thumb, pressing lightly until her moans grew louder. She buried her face in my neck and her teeth clamped down to muffle her scream.

The tight clench of her inner muscles on my cock drove me over the edge, and I just let go—of everything but Emma. Because I was
never
letting go of Emma.

That morning, I rolled over in Ford's bed to find a blueberry muffin and a cup of coffee on the nightstand. I sat up to take a sip—just a touch of sugar and cream, exactly how I liked it. A giddy grin spread over my face. This little breakfast-in-bed gesture was just so damned cute. Not long ago, I would have said “so utterly unlike Ford.” But I had learned his weakness for taking care of me. And last night, he had confessed in his own words how crazy he was about me … in my room, in the shower, again and again in his bed.

I giggled to myself, not caring that I sounded like a schoolgirl with a crush. Ford had done his best to wear me out—that was probably why he'd been so careful not to wake me. I glanced at the alarm clock and saw it was almost eleven-thirty.

I wrapped myself in his bathrobe, breathing in the sharp scent of his soap, and skittered down the hallway to grab my phone before anyone passed by. Then I curled up in Ford's bed again and took a bite of my muffin. Munching away, I opened my email app …

And my floaty happiness crashed. Mixed in with all the normal spam, Facebook notifications, and chain letters from Mom was an automated reminder:

Dear Ms. Carter,

You are scheduled for the New Teacher Orientation on August 12th. Please let us know if you need help making travel arrangements. Classes begin on August 19th. We look forward to seeing you this fall!

Mary Blomkamp

Head Administrator

Lincoln High School

It was a rude wake-up call. And one that I had been dreading. I had responsibilities waiting for me. Not just a career—a chance to make a difference, to work with the kids who needed help the most. And even if I did stay, teaching at a rural Montana school wouldn't challenge me in the way I needed. But I knew I wanted to stay with Ford. What we had together went beyond a summer fling, I knew that now. I couldn't give up him any more than I could give up this job opportunity. Even broaching the subject with him wouldn't be fun. I wasn't afraid of him getting angry or anything like that, but we had just made up last night and I was reluctant to wreck the positive atmosphere all over again.

Was I just being childish about this whole thing?
Torn, I finished my breakfast while barely tasting it. I got dressed, went downstairs to put my dishes in the sink, then let my feet take me wherever they wanted while I chewed over my dilemma.

My pacing and fretting eventually led me to the horse barn. Its cool shade welcomed me in. I breathed in the mellow scents of dusty, weathered timber and sweet fresh hay; even the lingering odor of manure felt somehow wholesome. The few horses stabled for the day munched their feed, occasionally giving soft huffs of satisfaction.

“Hey, Griff,” I called as I entered.

He was pouring water into a bucket half full of reddish pellets. Without looking up, he jerked his head briefly in my direction. “Ma'am.”

“Um … what's in the pail?”

“Beet pulp. 'Scuse me there.”

“Huh? Oh!” I swung open the stall door I'd been cluelessly standing in front of.

A glossy chestnut foal with white socks was tethered inside on a long cotton rope. At the sight of the food, it whickered loudly and pawed the floor. As soon as Griff set down the bucket, it shoved past to bury its nose in the purple mush, almost knocking him over.

“Little sonuvabitch,” Griff said, patting its neck. He ambled away and sat down heavily on a hay bale, taking a tin of chewing tobacco out of his pocket.

After I latched the stall door behind him, I found myself at a loss for what to do next. Griff had evidently finished his chores, and since he'd barely spoken to me, I felt weird bothering him anymore. I wandered around the barn for a while. But soon, visiting with the horses and examining the farm equipment turned into flat-out pacing again.

“You gonna say what's on your mind, girl, or just keep sighin' up a storm?”

I turned abruptly, startled. I almost forgot Griff was still there.

On our drive from the airstrip to the mansion, he’d seemed like a tight-lipped grump. After I'd spent some time on the ranch, though, I knew better. He didn't mean anything by his silence—he just didn't feel like talking. And right now, what I needed most was a sounding board. Someone who knew how to listen without judgment. It seemed Griff was my man.

I hesitated … then spilled my guts. Even leaving out the gory details, I talked for half an hour about the importance of career, and love, and how I was caught in the middle. I almost expected him to leave or doze off in the middle of my blathering. When I finished, I looked over to see him staring into space and scratching his beard. Just as I started wondering whether he'd heard a single word, he asked, “You ever thought about the juvie hall out by the county line?”

I shook my head. “There's something like that around here?”

“Might be called 'youth correctional facility,' or whatever the fashion is these days.” He turned his head to spit. “They need good folks who actually care about helping the kids get their diplomas and keep outta trouble … not just people who want the paycheck.”

I picked at my fingernail as I thought about it. I wasn't certified for this specifically, but a lot of my training would probably overlap since I'd chosen my classes with an eye towards inner-city teaching. For students who had spent their whole lives in underfunded, understaffed schools, and in dangerous neighborhoods. A juvenile detention center was just one step beyond that—kids who had fallen through the cracks in an even bigger way. That kind of work definitely wouldn't have any shortage of challenges.
It never occurred to me to look for a job in the prison system, but…

“That's a great idea,” I replied aloud. “Do you know anything else about the school?”

Griff shook his head. “Haven't had much cause to find out. Hell, I probably even got the facts wrong. Might be one juvie hall for boys and another for girls.”

I guess I don't know what I expected.
I smiled at the old foreman. “Thanks anyway. You've been a huge help.” A little Googling would handle the rest of my questions; what was really important was the glimmer of hope that Griff had planted. Maybe I could stay in Montana after all.

He grunted in acknowledgment and dipped his head. But as I turned to leave, he said, “You been havin' some trouble with Miss Celeste.” It was a statement, not a question.

Caught off guard, I muttered, “Uh … ” I didn't think I'd revealed
that
much about butting heads with Celeste. What more did I want to tell him?

“Before this job, she lived with her sister and her good-fer-nuthin husband. Busted her ass waitin' tables while he drank away all her tips.” Griff shifted and spat onto the floor again. “That ain't an excuse for her nonsense, you understand. Just a reason.”

I nodded slowly. “Then how did she start working for Russ?”

“Welp, the bastard roughed up Celeste's sister sometimes, and one night the sheriff came a-knockin'. I don't know if Celeste called him or it was a neighbor, but either way, word got out around town. Russ went right down to her diner and offered her a job. Room, board, and wage. He said Celeste was welcome to bring her sister along, but I guess she wouldn't leave … dunno the details. Celeste sends her money every couple months.”

For a moment, I was stunned. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with something like that. “Thanks, Griff,” I finally said. “I'll remember that.” And I would—it was the longest speech I'd ever heard from him, and it put a lot into perspective.

During my big fight with Ford, I had yelled that Mom was nothing like Celeste. Now, though, I wondered if the difference between them was really so great. Sure, Celeste was catty and ruthless about chasing money, while Mom was just pragmatic, without ever losing her positive attitude. But what if that kindly widowed lawyer had never come along? Mom had had me to look after. How far would she have gone to keep food on the table? How bitter would she have become after years of bad luck and fear? I wasn't sure I could answer that question.

I felt a little guilty. I hadn't even bothered to wonder why Celeste acted the way she did; I had just written her off as a bitch. She'd lived a rough life before and would probably do just about anything to avoid it again. That wasn't an excuse, like Griff said, and I was sure she didn't want my pity—especially not if she learned I'd dug up her past. But now I knew we needed to have a conversation. Soon.

First, though, I had to take care of my job situation. I thanked Griff for listening one last time, then went back to the house and upstairs to fire up my laptop. A quick search showed that there were indeed two centers, segregated by gender. The one for boys was on the other side of the county, but the girls' center wasn't too far from the ranch house—an easy daily drive.
Holy crap, this idea might actually work.
Excitement sparked in my chest.

A pair of warm arms settled around me from behind, creating a different kind of spark. Ford's chin rested on top of my head. “What are you up to?” he asked. “Lunch is ready.”

“Do you really want me to stay here? At the ranch?” I blurted.

He went still, only his breath just barely ruffling my hair.
Damn it, Emma, you could have led into that a little more smoothly.
I hadn't meant to ask him to evaluate our entire relationship right on the spot. I waited nervously, half-hearing the
Jeopardy!
theme song in the background.

Finally he answered, “I don't think I ever intended to let you leave.”

My stomach fluttered with relief and pleasant surprise. “Sorry for being awkward,” I said. “It's just that … if I
am
going to stay, I need to find a replacement job. Something with purpose, where I can be confident that my work makes a real difference in the world. Griff suggested teaching at the youth correctional facility.” I hesitated, then continued, “I told Griff about us. I'm sorry. I should have checked with you to make sure that was okay.”

I wasn't sure how he'd react to me blabbing our dirty little secret. But all my fears were dispelled when Ford replied, “Don't sweat it. Griff sees every goddamn thing that happens on this ranch anyway … I ended up talking to him, too, but he probably knew already.” He smiled. “And I think his job idea is a damn fine one. In fact, I know the guy who runs the place. I'll call him right now and ask for a tour.”

I leaned back, tilting my head over the chair to kiss him upside-down. It was a long time before I let Ford make that phone call.

* * *

The next day, after I spent twenty minutes cobbling together an impressive outfit from my mishmash of vacation clothes, we drove out to the county line. The detention center looked much more like a typical school than I expected: half a dozen low, red-roofed buildings spread out over a huge, fenced lawn. In the main office, Ford introduced me to the facility superintendent, a middle-aged man with thinning blond hair named Ted Wright.

Ted shook hands like he was trying to throw me. “Welcome to the Oak Creek Rehabilitation Center, Miss Carter,” he boomed. “This facility serves up to twenty female delinquents between the ages of ten and eighteen … Where did you say you went to college?”

Distracted by how much he sounded like a brochure, I almost didn't catch his question. “Um, I don't think I did say. But I just graduated from Stanford.”

“Small world—and a great school. My wife's nephew just got his acceptance letter.” Ted stepped into the hall, waving us along. “And what did you study?”

This time I had an answer ready to fire back. “Secondary-level math and science, with an emphasis on remedial education and at-risk youth. I did my student teaching in a high school. But I've also taken a few classes in pedagogy and developmental psych that were focused on the primary-school level.”

As he showed us the classrooms, counseling rooms, and dorms, Ted kept abruptly throwing questions at me from out of left field. Ford followed us a step behind, hands in his pockets, letting me do all the talking. Eventually the tour ended back at the main office. Waving over a short-haired woman in a dark green pantsuit, Ted said, “I want you to meet Maddie Baker. She's the head case manager here. Maddie, this is Emma Carter.”

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, shaking her manicured hand and wondering what the hell was going on.

“Based on your education and experience, Miss Carter, you're overqualified.” Ted cleared his throat loudly, giving my hopes a moment to plummet. “But rural youth facilities like this don't receive many applicants … especially ones as well trained, talented, and eager as you seem to be.”

Maddie interrupted, “What Ted means is that we'd be honored to have you.”

Ford gave me a quick sidelong look that said:
Damn right they would.

“Really? But … I haven't even given you a real interview yet,” I stammered. Had Ford given them my whole résumé over the phone or something?

Ted just chuckled. “I know a good teacher when I see one.”

“Now, about your duties,” Maddie said briskly. “Classes are held for eight hours every weekday for the entire year. We only have one other teacher right now, so you'll be handling math and science classes for all grade levels. How soon can you start? Assuming, of course, that you pass your background check.”