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said beaming at him as I pulled away.
    I was rewarded with another desperate searing kiss. His hand returned to the place where it had stopped before.
    Soon, he had pulled my underwear down to my knees and was touching me desperately. Touching me as if I was the only thing standing between him and a long, slow, painful death.
    I leaned my head back and emitted another moan as he kneaded my breasts through my shirt.
    It was not long before he had ripped that off of me as well. My skirt came next. As soon as that hit the floor, he grabbed me from behind and picked me fully so that I had to wrap my legs around his waist.
    He threw me onto the bed. As my head hit the plush pillows, he quickly began to remove his own clothing. I moved up to help him.
    “No,” he said quietly but firmly, “stay right where you are. I just want to look at you while I do this. I just want to remember how incredibly lucky I am to be in love with such a beautiful woman.”
    I smiled and did exactly as he asked. I did exactly as he asked the rest of the night too.
    My little apartment was soon filled with moans and gasps from me and gently but commanding orders from him.
    Phrases like “say my name,” “touch yourself” and “come for me, Sabrina” were what pushed me over the edge more than anything else he did.
    Finally, with a last shout, we both fell back onto my too cold mattress. Utterly spent.
    We were quiet for several moments before he spoke up.
    “Does this mean you’ll wait for me while I’m off with my unit?” he asked.
    “What do you think?” I asked with a sly smile.
    “Okay then,” he answered, “that only leaves one question.”
    “What’s that?” I asked.
    He lifted his arm and put it around my shoulders, I moved close to him on the bench and snuggled into his side.
    “What are we going to tell our parents?” he asked.
    “I’m sure we’ll think of something,” I answered.
    And that was that. That was how I managed, somehow, to fall in love with my stepbrother. And, no matter what anyone else says, no matter how weird anyone thinks it is, I couldn’t be happier.
     
    THE END
     

Bonus Stories
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    Bonus Story 1 of 20

Just in Time
     
    The drunk guy next to me leaned over to blow his beer-laced question in my face. “So who do you think’ll win, huh? Nets or Celtics?”
    I scrunched up my nose and leaned away slightly while he wobbled in his seat. He had a leathery face from many days working out in the sun. His eyes were an unfocused soupy green color and pointed in my general direction. He wore a black trench coat over a blue work shirt and jeans. His muddy boots kept slipping from the ledge under the bar. I chuckled and then pointed to the flat screen directly in front of us, hanging over the bar.
    “The Nets man. All day,” I said. A few New Yorkers within earshot cheered, and the drunk guy grinned.
    “Nah. So what they’re up this quarter, all the Celtics have to do is catch up in the last two minutes and they’ve got this,” the guy said, slurring his words. The Brooklyn crowd at the bar heard him, and he got booed and pelted with peanuts. I chuckled again.
    “They’re going to catch up twenty points in two minutes?” I said. “Not a chance.”
    “I got a huge bet ridin’ on this, I can’t afford to lose it,” said the drunk. I shook my head apologetically.
    “You shouldn’t have bet on the Celtics man. The Celtics ? Really?” I said in disbelief. The guy groaned while he gulped down the rest of his fifth beer.
    “Guy is gonna get iced,” the man on my left said with a laugh. I patted the drunk on his back.
    “I suggest you start running now guy, maybe you’ll be able to hide from your bookie,” I suggested. The drunk guy looked up with wide eyes