Page 1 of Baby for Stepmom

ONE

JAX

Delila, my stepmother, greeted me with a warm smile. Her deep blue eyes lit up, like light reflecting off ocean waves. “Hey Jax! Want to watch a movie?”

She was making popcorn, not how everyone does it in the microwave, but over the stove, with coconut oil and cinnamon sugar. It smelled wonderful. Everything Delila cooked was wonderful.

Something tight in my shoulders went loose. Yes, I did want to watch a movie—with her.

I wanted her giggling at the funny parts. Chewing popcorn and grinning at me. Maybe clutching my arm when it got scary—before she inevitably realized and pulled away. I wanted it all.

There was just one problem—one red strap. One little strap, peeking out from under her shirt. I recognized that strap from the incident in the laundry room where I was innocently minding my own business when I saw it—the lace bra. The one that had me hypnotized. Like a total pervert, I’d stared at it slack-jawed for way too long. Tried and failed not to picture the tits that would fit in them. Tried not to think about how soft they must be. Even the memory of the bra incident had my cock stirring to life.

I know that she’s off-limits. I’m not some horny monster, but I couldn’t help it. Delila was literally the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life. Absolutely stunning with her long, silky hair and doe-like eyes. Dad might have married her six years ago, but she was still young and hot. Curves in all the right places and legs for days.

There was no way I could sit next to her for two hours when she was wearing that bra. Not without her realizing that I was hard.

I shook my head regretfully. “Not tonight.”

For a moment, her face fell, and I was on the verge of letting my second head do the thinking… maybe just hide my situation down there with the popcorn bowl, something stupid like that, as long as I got to be near her.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Delila bit her lip.

If I needed anything?

I needed those lips around my cock, to see how much she could take before I had her gagging and swallowing every drop of me.

I needed to get the fuck away before I did something fucked up.

Turning, I ran up the stairs to my room like a coward.

I leaned against the door, forcing down deep breaths. Picturing unsexy things, like chalky protein powder… or my Statistics teacher’s musty sweater. Then looked down at my sweatpants.

Nope.

My cock was still being a dick.

Which sucked because now that Delila mentioned relaxing and watching a movie, it was all that I wanted to do.

Obviously, I couldn’t go back downstairs, and I hated watching movies on my tiny phone screen.

I almost resigned myself to spending the evening moping in bed, trying not to think about my stepmother’s titties, when I remembered the iPad.

It was shoved in the back of my desk drawer, gathering dust, honestly because it pissed me off.

That iPad was supposed to be last year’s birthday gift—Dad probably only hastily wrapped it up at the last minute to pretend that he hadn’t forgotten. I bet that Delila had to remind him, or he would have gotten me nothing.

He was being so cheap he’d literally put crumpled wrapping paper around the old case—as if I couldn’t remember seeing him use it just a few days before my birthday. He didn’t even bother with a box. It would’ve been less obnoxious if he had waited longer than a week to buy himself a new iPad, but hey, that was my dad.

Maybe it still worked.

I hooked it into the charger, and set my bed up to relax, stacking the pillows just right.

Oh wow, the iPad turned on and everything. Dad actually gave me something expensive that wasn’t half-broken already.

Opening Netflix, I scrolled through my options, pausing on the newest episode of the docuseries that Delila probably wanted to watch. The same thing that was likely playing downstairs right now… that I’d be watching with good popcorn and good company if I could get my fucking libido under control.

Or I could always rewatch the Foreman vs. Ramirez UFC match. Again.