“You don’t have to be a jerk about it. I was just saying, I can try and help if you ever want to talk about it. Or just listen.”
“There are ways you can help.”
“How?”
I leaned in close to her. “Wrap those perfect lips around my dick and suck slow and hard until I come in that pretty mouth.”
She blushed. “Not what I was thinking.”
“But a lot more fun. You can help me fuck the demons away any time.”
The image of Claire beneath me, her back arched, her tits perfect, her nipples erect, came back to me. I wanted to fuck her on the pool chair so bad it almost hurt. I could feel my cock grow rock hard, and I was sure she noticed it, too. Tough not to see it through the damn running shorts. She didn’t mention it, though, as I decided to get the fuck out of there before I did something stupid.
“Have a good day,” I said. “Don’t get too burnt.”
“Sure. Will do.”
I turned and walked away. I couldn’t let myself get sucked into her shit. She was already trying to be all maternal and crap, as if she could somehow help me deal with all the shit I’d seen. She didn’t know half of it and never would. The United States frowned on any SEAL that talked about classified mission info, to put it lightly.
I could already tell I was in a fucking pickle, to put it mildly. On the one hand, I wanted to fuck her raw and fast, sweat out all my aggression and anger, punish her pussy so hard that she screamed for more. But I knew I couldn’t do that, not when she was my stepsister, and not when she was so damn innocent. Yeah, that was part of why I wanted her to suck my cock, because I wanted to dirty her up, corrupt her. But I shouldn’t lead her down that path. Besides, I didn’t want her getting any more attached.
Still, attached or not, there was something going on with her family, something dangerous involving the Broken Hearts, whoever they were. I couldn’t let that issue fester, couldn’t let something bad happen to Claire.
Inside, sitting at the kitchen counter, Lucille was drinking what looked a lot like a Bloody Mary, and she looked like a wreck. All in all, an average morning for her.
“Mother,” I said.
“There you are. I was wondering where my useless son had gone.”
“Anything that isn’t alcohol is useless to you, Lucille.”
“There’s that asshole wit of yours,” she snapped. “When will you grow up?”
I heard a floorboard nearby creak but decided I didn’t care if we had an audience.
“You forget, Lucille, you have absolutely no bearing on my life. But you are involved with Claire and her father.”
“What’s it matter to you? You’re going to do whatever you want and then disappear at the end of summer.”
“Maybe,” I said, shrugging. “But you shouldn’t be a bitch to Claire.”
Lucille rolled her eyes. “That girl is such a weak little brat.”
“She doesn’t deserve your psycho bullshit.”
“Oh, sure, she’s nice. So nice and cute. Too bad she’ll be all used up by the time she’s my age.”
“Not everyone is you.”
Just then, Jonathan stepped into the room, a fake-as-hell smile plastered on his face. You clearly heard all that, I thought to myself. You know she’s crazy. Why are you still with her?
“What are you two talking about?” he asked, the annoyance barely hidden behind his fake smile.
“Nothing, dear,” Lucille said, perking up. “Just talking about what he was doing for the summer.”
“Yes, about that,” Jonathan said, looking at me. “Still going to run the boats for me? Tommy said you two didn’t show up today.”
“Actually, I need to talk to you about that.”
“Go ahead, Nathan.”
“Alone.”
He stared at me for a second. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of your mother.”
“No, sir, I can’t, because my mother is a harpy and will tell the first reporter she can find.”
They both gaped at me. “Nathan,” Jonathan said, “you can’t talk about your mother that way.”
“Yes, I can,” I said quickly, stifling whatever Lucille was about to say, “because you want to hear about this.”
Jonathan looked at me for a long second.
“You can’t be serious, Nathan,” Lucille said during the silence. “Are you this desperate for male attention? I know your father died when you were young, but this is pathetic.”
I had to clench my fists to keep from smacking her across the face. I knew she was my mother, but that was a low blow, even by her standards.
Jonathan seemed to agree. “Lucille, leave the boy alone.” He gestured at me. “Follow me.”