Surge : A Stepbrother Romance (8 page)

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Chapter 14 Samantha – Time to pay the
piper  

        After too much time, I leave the police
station. Explaining my side of the story and giving all the information I could,
proved to be exhausting. I am pissed. Thoughts of Sam are still fresh in my
mind as I return to my half-burnt house. What a humbling experience to know
that all I have could have gone up in smoke, just like that.

        The thought occurs to me, though, all of these
things are just that: things. There is no love in things—love is what you have
for people. My mind is calm and aflutter all at the same time as I make my way
into my beloved home. It smells of smoke and burnt wood, like a campfire. I do
my best not to look, but I have to. I pick up a few broken picture frames,
wondering what memory should have been in them. But they’re empty. There are no
memories in them because, I have no one I wanted to share memories with. I let
out a big sign, turn from the carnage, and make my way to bed.

        The US Open is just a day away now, and I have
to concentrate on that if I am going to do as well as I hope. I need to get
some board time in. I can’t remember the last time I had a practice session. It’s
always hard for me to have enough time to practice. These days, there is just
too much on my plate. If I could only get some time at the pier.

        As I lay down on my bed, relaxing becomes
easier. My bed feels so sweet, as it had been a long day. Just as I begin to
drift off, I hear a knock at the door. I put on a pair of shorts and make my
way there. As I peer through the peephole, I see its Sam. My annoyance shifts to
pleasure and excitement as I fling open the door.

        “Sam! What are you doing here?”

        “I came for you, Mick.” She says it in such a
sultry voice. My arousal is instantaneous.

        Sam leaps at me like a cat stalking her prey.
She is here for one reason, and one reason only. Who am I to deny her pleasure?
As she pushes me back I stumble to the floor, yet she does not belay her
pursuit. Looking up as she stands there, wearing tight PVC pants and an ankle-length
trench coat, her intentions are quite clear.

        Sam puts her hands on her hips, which are
covered by shiny, plastic gloves, and stares at me. My cock becomes engorged at
the sight of her, as a wicked smile spreads across her face. Her short, hair
and piercing stare arouse me in a way I have never felt before. Sam continues
to stare at me, rubbing her pussy in an almost evil fashion. I sit up in
preparation to stand, but Sam places her stiletto heel upon my chest, pushing
me back down. She walks forward until she has one leg on either side of my
body, then turns around and squats until her ass is just inches from my face. She
has a glorious ass, so round and perfect. I rub her ass, enjoying the feeling
of the material on my hands. There is a zipper in arm’s reach, just below her
hair. As I pull it down, the material peels out of the way as if under
pressure.

        The musculature of her back is very sexy. I begin
to rub her back as she sits down on my chest. She peels her arms from the
garment, then swivels around, still sitting on me, holding one hand in front of
her ample breasts. Her heels are now by my ears.

        With her free hand she reaches back and begin stroking
my cock. I reach for her other arm, wanting to pull it away and see her
delicious tits. She does not let me. In fact, she slaps me hard in the face,
stands up, and walks away. I have no idea where she went and I’m not even sure
if she’s coming back. I wait for a second and then jump up to pursue her. My
cock is so hard, uncomfortably pulling at my shorts. I decide to just take off my
shorts and be naked. As I run through the house, I hear her call my name—or rather,
whisper it.

        “Mick… I am in here.”

        Slowly, I follow the sounds of Sam’s voice, only
to find her in my bedroom, moaning. She is lying on the bed completely naked,
with the exception of her heels. I follow the length of her leg with my eyes to
try and sneak a peek at more of her, but she strategically covers herself. As
she motions to me with a finger, I hypnotically walk into the room until I am
at the edge of the bed. Sam arches her back seductively, never opening her
eyes. Climbing up on the bed, I taste her sweet skin as I run kisses up her
stomach to her pert breasts. I gently flick her nipples with my tongue. A rush
of air accidentally escapes her lips in ecstasy. Sam grabs my back and pulls me
in tightly. I can feel my hard cock rubbing into the wetness of her pussy. From
this position, it would be impossible to enter her—Sam is holding on too
tightly.

        “I want you inside me, Mick. Why don’t you
take me?”

        I know what she really wants. She wants me to
control her. Sam bares her teeth at me threateningly, goading me on. I am not
one to shy away, so I force myself from her grip, backing up hard as I do. I
grab Sam’s wrists and force them to the bed. She smiles and bites her lip,
acknowledging my control by struggling no further.

        My hard cock now rubs against her wet pussy as
she moans with delight. Slowly, I slide my cock into her, allowing her to feel
the full girth of it. She squeezes her eyes shut even tighter—it’s a lot of
cock for anyone to take. Soon enough her pussy accommodates my manhood in a way
that is almost without friction.

        Sam is as wet as anyone could be, as wet as is
humanly possible. She begins to struggle against my grip, but I am not about to
let go. As she tries to sit up, I begin relentlessly pounding her pussy. She tries
to fight off the feeling of orgasm; I can see it in her face. She tenses up her
muscles, clenches her fists, and with a guttural scream she comes. Hard, and
for quite a long time. As Sam is writhing beneath me, I hear someone outside,
calling my name.

        “Mick!

        They’re knocking so loud they’re shaking the
door.

        “Mick!
Mick!
Open the damn door!”

        I pull away from Sam and press a finger to her
lips, indicating for her to be quiet. Then I grab my shorts, walk over to the
door, and reaching down, I grab for the handle.

Chapter
15 Mick – Competition Day

        Reaching down, I grab for the door handle, and
in a flash, I am awake. A cruel fate—this had all been a dream.

        My phone is vibrating beside me. It’s Delia. I
reach to answer, but then think better of it. I’m tired of her, tired of the
drama, tired of the fighting—just tired. Never mind the fact that she just set
my house on fire. Delia is a chapter of my life that I am glad to put behind
me.

        Taking stock of what survived the flames, I
realize I lost several treasured items to my ex’s wrath. Some old letters from
girlfriends and family keepsakes, but thankfully, my father still has my board.
Life was so simple when I rode that board. It was the first board I rode, and I
rode it until I was sixteen. I guess I was just a child then and didn’t really
understand how complicated life could be. In retrospect, it sure felt like I
knew a lot more back then than I do now. I guess life was just simpler then,
easier and carefree. I long for those days once again.

        Looking over to the clock, I see it’s only six a.m. I remind myself it’s
also competition day. Thankfully, I don’t have to go to the prelims if I don’t want
to, but I do want to get some time in. I’ll show up there around ten or so.

        My thoughts are still of Sam. That dream last night has my mind reeling.
I’m not even sure, at this point, if she wants to see me. There are other
things that require my focus today.

My phone rings again. This
time, it’s Jaime.

        “Hi, Jaime.”

        “Mick, what the fuck, man? I have been
knocking on your door for an hour. We have to get down to the beach. What the
fuck happened to your house?”

        “Jaime, go home. I am not going to the beach
now. This is competition day. We agreed that you would leave me alone on
competition day.”

        “I know, but we have an interview with USA Today.
This is big man, really big.”

        “Jaime, leave me alone. We had an agreement. I
am not doing that interview.”

        “What’s with you these days, man? You’ve
changed. I think I need to find new talent.”

        “That’s fine, man, go ahead. Maybe this whole
surfing thing isn’t for me, after all.”

        “Fuck, Mick, come on! Do me this one favor.”

        “Forget it, Jaime. I am hanging up now.”

        The phone goes dead. This isn’t the first time
he had threatened to get rid of me. I know he must have promised someone an
interview and is now in hot water. I’m just relieved he’s gone.

        I have a ritual before every competition: I go
into my surfboard room and select the best board for the conditions. I usually
bring a few, in case the weather changes or something breaks. I have never
broken a board, but I have seen it happen. Well let’s just say someone in my
life has broken boards before. What an idiot she is.

As I am getting dressed
and ready, something feels different. I don’t really want to compete today. In
fact, for the first time ever, I feel a little scared. Being nervous is one
thing—that’s always a rush. But I don’t feel nervous. I feel terrified. I feel
as if going out there is just too… dangerous.

        I shake the feelings from my mind. I am a
professional, after all, and I have a job to do. I select my boards, then prep
and load them into the car. I get into the old beater and turn it on.
One
more try, Sam, one more try.
I send her a text.

        “Competition day today. I have made arrangements for a special seat for
you. I hope you will come.”

        I don’t really expect a response, but I make sure before turning my
cell off and stuffing it into my glovebox for the day. It’s time to get in the
game.
Let’s go get what’s ours, Mick! You’re the best in the world!

        As I drive to the beach, its impossible for me to get Sam off my mind.
Thoughts I have never had before also ring around my head. Visions of getting
hurt out there in the water, being washed up—none of them will leave me alone. I
pull into the restricted parking lot, get my gear, and angrily walk my way to the
beach.

The loudspeaker blares: “Please
welcome your 2014 World Champion, Mick Anderson! Let’s give him a hand.” The
announcer expects me to say a few words now. I better say the right thing here.
All of these people are expecting the mighty Mick Anderson to respond.

        “Hi, everyone. It’s a great day to surf, and I
am looking forward to a weekend of amazing competition. We have the best surfers
in the world here, in the best city in the world, and it’s going to be great.” I
can hear myself speaking the words, but can’t make them sound interesting. There
is more on my mind today.

        The announcer gives me a pitying look. “A hand
for Mick Anderson.”

        With that, I prepare myself put all of my
boards in the designated area and get dressed. I’m as ready now as I am ever
going to be.

        I run out into the ocean. The cool sting of water
shudders through my body. Thankfully, the wetsuit has kept out most of the
cold. Flopping onto my board, it’s time to paddle out. There are a few of my
surfing buddies here, but they’re all in competition mode, too. We politely nod
to each other, understanding just how much is riding on today’s competition. The
waves are really nice today, so I should be able to get a few good rides in.

       
        I find a spot in line just as I pick out my first wave. Usually I wait,
but this one is too good to miss. I paddle in and I’m not disappointed.

       
I tuck down as the
wave envelops me—to my shock, I’m in a barrel at the Pier. I have been surfing
here for over twenty years and never made, nor had I ever seen anyone make, a
barrel. I can hear the announcer going crazy. Other than that, all that can be
heard is water. Water rushing over my head. A hollow echo in my ears. There is
a great deal of peace in it, which is making the moment seem to last longer than
it really is.

Taking a quick look back,
I see the wave is closing fast.
Time to get out.
Putting my weight
forward, I emerge with a victorious fist in the air. The crowd is screaming and
cheering. Seems as though they liked it as much as I did. That may have been a
lifetime best wave for me at the Pier. Maybe I was wrong about my feeling this
morning. Maybe this is the best time to be in the water.

I paddle back out to my
spot with a big smile on my face. The other surfers are clapping for me. If that
ride had not been extraordinary, they would never have clapped. There’s true
admiration from them, which fills me with a sense of pride.

The surf dies after that.
There is no wave I want to enter into. Knowing this is a timed event, I will have
to take a wave, but I just can’t find one. I watch the other surfers catching
small waves, making the best out of them. They won’t score higher than I did on
that barrel. I know the competition is close, but not close enough for them. There
is it—I see another wave like the one before. Positioning myself I begin to
paddle in, but something bumps me. I’m knocked from my board. What a strange
feeling. Was it a rock? Or a turtle?

I cling to my board,
scanning the water. Only hoping it isn’t what I think it is. Though, I see nothing.
Alarms and horns begin blaring. People on the beach and pier began to scream. “Shark!
Shark!” That’s the last thing anyone wants to hear. Paddling frantically, I make
a break for the shore.

If I didn’t look back, I
would have never seen the fin coming at me with speed. I never would have
noticed the teeth bearing down on me. This isn’t just a shark—this is a
monster. Its mouth is as tall as my board is long, and as he clamps down on my
leg, white flashes of pain take my breath away. Instinctively I turn around as
best I can and punch the shark in the nose and eyes. I don’t stop punching
until he lets me go. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears, and
I swallow hard as the shark spits me out and quickly swims away. I am in
trouble, though. A trail of blood leaks out behind me from the gaping wound in my
calf. It’s a gruesome sight. The announcer is screaming for a medic and the
sounds of approaching jet skis buzzed like hornets in the distance as I slipped
off the board and into blackness.