Completely Unexpected

“Is that a seatbelt mark?”

Crap! I frowned at my stepbrother-to-be in the mirror. He snuck up behind me while I was in the bathroom. I had closed my eyes for a second to try and calm my nerves, but his seeing me like this only made it worse. I knew I should’ve closed the bathroom door all the way for privacy and locked it too, but I had left it open a few inches. We weren’t even in high school anymore, so I didn’t think he would barge in on me. I hadn’t heard him open the door all the way, either.

“No, it’s just a scratch,” I lied, pulling the strap to my tank top back over the blemish. “Nothing major.”

It honestly wasn’t that bad. It was a small red mark. A scratch, I’m sure, would bruise later, but Marcus already knew what it was as this wasn’t the first time I’d had the same red mark in the exact spot.

“You’re lying,” he smirked, then leaned against the bathroom doorframe and crossed his arms. “What did you do to the car this time?”

“I didn’t do anything, Marcus.” I couldn’t admit anything to him and couldn’t trust him to keep it a secret if I did.

“I’m sure our parents wouldn’t be thrilled that you wrecked my dad’s car again. What would you give me to not tell them about this?”

My eyes met his in the mirror. I had no idea what I could give him. I didn’t want to give him any money. I was saving it to get out of here. “I don’t know. What do you want?”

“How much is your little secret worth?” he smirked.

I turned around slowly and sighed as I glared at him. “I’m saving my money for something big, Marcus. I can’t pay you.” There was no way I would admit what I needed that money for. The moment my mom found out, she would take every cent. She was the one I wanted to get away from.

He shrugged and said smugly, “Guess I’ll have to go tell our parents then. Wonder who would be angriest with you the most. My bet would be on your mom.”

He turned to walk away, but a thought came to me. “No, wait.”

He stopped and turned back around to face me with a smug look on his face. “Yes?”

“Maybe…maybe I can do something else for you.” I wondered if it was a bad idea and hated that the thought had even popped into my mind.

“Like what?” he moved to stand just inside the bathroom and leaned on the doorframe again.

“I can show you my tits,” I whispered. I felt dirty even suggesting it.

He scoffed. “I’ve seen tits before, Willow.”

“How about I let you touch them?” I regretted it as soon as I said it.

We were both in college, so I’m sure he’s probably touched quite a few. But touching mine was far worse than flashing them. I sounded too desperate, but I couldn’t let him tell our parents that I kind of wrecked his dad’s car again. He would find out soon enough once he saw the scratches on the side of it, but I was trying to find a way to cover it up so that he wouldn’t notice it. I just haven’t gotten that far yet.

“Okay then. You let me fondle your tits for a few minutes, and I won’t say a word.”

I sighed, feeling somewhat relieved. “Deal.”

“Well, all right then,” he said almost cheerfully. His gaze moved down to my breasts, and he smiled like a kid getting to pick out their favorite candy. “Let’s see them.”

I took my tank top off, followed by my bra, as Marcus stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door. It was a small bathroom with only a toilet and sink. He stepped closer, staring at my breasts with wide eyes, completely ignoring the seatbelt mark. I sucked in a breath when his hands touched my skin, cupping my breasts.

The room felt tiny with his athletic, almost six-foot body now hovering over my five-foot-eight small frame, but when his hands touched my skin, it sucked the air from my lungs. My core was throbbing and growing wetter every second his hands were on my breasts.

“You have such nice tits, Willow,” he said, almost too quietly. “Beautiful C-cups. They fit perfectly in my hands. I like that.”

My heart picked up at his admission. His thumbs grazed my nipples, and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me, straight to the apex of my thighs. Even though Marcus is two years older than I, it was still a little awkward that I was enjoying this. He wasn’t my stepbrother yet, so it wasn’t too weird. His dad was supposed to marry my mom, but it was put on hold due to the pandemic, yet my mom and I moved in with them anyway. That was over a year ago. I wasn’t sure what was keeping them from marrying yet. I’m sure it had something to do with my mom.

“Willow? Marcus?”

We both jumped at the sound of his dad calling for us from somewhere in the house. Marcus quickly released my girls, and I scrambled to get my bra and shirt back on.

“Just so you know, I wasn’t done. So, I expect to earn my full payment later,” he said, then rushed out the door.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, nodding, but he was already gone.

My core throbbed even harder at the thought of almost getting caught by his dad. I threw my overshirt over my tank top to hide any evidence peeking out from my tank top and went out of the bathroom when I ran into John, Marcus’s father, my soon-to-be stepdad.

“Hey, Willow. Have you seen Marcus?”

“Uh, no. I haven’t,” I said coolly as I could.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he cocked his head as if he didn’t believe me. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

“No, no, I’m good. Thought about taking a shower and then studying for a bit.”

“If those college classes are a little tough on you, let me know. Maybe I can help you relieve some tension.”

My pussy throbbed hearing him say that. I definitely could use some relief, but I wasn’t going to admit to him what kind I needed; he was about to marry my mom, whenever that was. As hot as I thought John was for an older guy, I couldn’t do anything sexually with him if my mom were too.

“Thanks, John. I appreciate it.”

He was a few inches taller than Marcus. Both of them had stunning blue eyes and dark brown hair. Where Marcus had a shaggy cut, John kept his trimmed short due to his job as a lawyer. Marcus had somewhat of a goatee growing, and John was clean-shaven, but only during the week. John worked out almost daily and was more muscular than Marcus, who got his toned body from playing soccer through high school. I wouldn’t mind having them both give me some relief.

John stepped back, and I offered him a small smile as I casually walked away until I was out of sight. Then, I walked briskly to my room upstairs and closed the door, thankful he didn’t mention anything about his car.

I took a few deep breaths and then walked to my dresser to gather some clothes before heading to the bathroom. I wanted to soak for a while. My achy body needed it. This was the third time I had done some form of damage to John’s car.

Mom forbade me from driving her car, which had John relenting to letting me borrow his. I wasn’t sure if it was to win me over, but I was happy just the same. One of mom’s friends taught me how to drive a few years ago and took me to get my license, but mom and I were moving again before I could have a chance to practice driving some more. I wasn’t going to tell John that. He probably wouldn’t let me borrow his car anymore.

My mom was usually strict, so any kind of niceness won me over fairly quickly, and John has been nothing but pleasant and accommodating. Marcus has too. Though he was a brat on occasion, I think it was all an act. We got along really well otherwise.

I stood there soaking in hot water, trying to come up with the courage to tell John what I did to his car if I couldn’t cover up the scratches. I googled a few ideas and hoped they would work. If not, I would try taking his car to the body shop in the morning. I just hoped that John wouldn’t see the damage before then and that Marcus wouldn’t rat me out.

I tried not to wreck John’s car. It was for a good reason this time. I’m not sure he’ll see any reason for wrecking his car as well. It wasn’t too bad.

The first time I borrowed John’s car, I had an accident. I wasn’t hurt too badly, and it wasn’t my fault, but I felt terrible that I had wrecked his car. He had gotten a new car, and shortly after that, I had gotten into a fender bender. I wasn’t sure if it was my fault, but I was grounded for a month. This time, a dog ran out in the street, and I swerved to miss it and hit a road sign. I would’ve been crushed had I not swerved. No part of me would’ve been able to endure running any animal over. However, I didn’t see the road sign there and cringed when I heard the scraping sound of metal on metal. Once he hears my story, he’ll have to go easy on me. Besides, there have been a handful of times I haven’t damaged his car. I honestly try not to.