oved himself into my ass. Around and around and around we went, my holes being stuffed until there was no more come for anyone else to have.
By the time we all collapsed onto the bed, I was ready to go to sleep.
As I stretched my body over my boys, I fell asleep with a smile upon my face. I didn’t know whose bed I would wake up in come morning, but I knew I would always be safe. That was the thing with the Trent brothers. There was never a point in time where I ever felt exposed. I never felt betrayed and I never felt alone. I never felt unsafe and I most certainly never felt taken advantage of.
I was achieving my dreams, I was living with the best men I’d ever known, and my Lost Boys were no longer lost.
Why? Because they belonged to me, of course, and that was the greatest gift I could ever have been given.
The End
STEP DADDY DESIRES
A Reverse Harem Romance
Ember
Mendelssohn's A Midsummer Night's Dream started, and that was my cue. I stood at the end of the aisle, staring toward the front where the groom and his groomsmen were all waiting. As I walked, I smiled brightly, and clutched my bouquet tightly. The groom's sapphire blue eyes fell on me and a small smile played at his lips. That little gesture stole the breath from my lungs and I couldn't take my eyes off him.
Jude Calloway was the sexiest bachelor in all of Chicago, or rather, I should say he used to be the sexiest bachelor in all of Chicago. In just a few moments, he'd be a married man. Standing at the head of the aisle, staring back at me, he looked every bit as desirable as he had in the pages of Forbes magazine – short cropped brown hair that was so dark it almost looked black. A few, subtle hints of gray at his temples made him look even more distinguished and sexy, and a chiseled jaw line that looked like it had been sculpted from granite.
God, he was the most gorgeous man I'd ever laid eyes on, and my heart swelled as I reached the pastor. I took my place with the other bridesmaids and waited for my mom, the bride, to make her entrance. The music changed abruptly to the Wedding March and the four hundred or so guests all stood at attention, turning to see my mother walk down the aisle where she would join her future husband, Jude, at the altar.
Lydia DuBois, my mother, made a stunning bride and she knew it. Although she was a woman who was approaching fifty, you would have never guessed it. Her blonde hair was piled high into an intricate updo, soft tendrils falling around her face. She was petite, like me, but that's where the similarities between us ended.
While I never knew my father, I was told I took after him – the Irish side of my family tree. I was born with red hair, and my mom said she knew my name the moment she saw me – Ember, to represent the fire on my head and in my heart.
Both of us stood right around five-foot-three, but where my mom was waifish, I had curves. I would never be a size two like my mother was, a fact she enjoyed flaunting.
She walked down the aisle slowly, all eyes on her in a Chantilly lace, vintage-style gown. My mom was a former petite model back in the day. Had she had the height, there was no doubt she would have been on runways around the world. But, being under the five-foot-six minimum for runway models meant she never knew international stardom. It didn't stop her from using what fame she did have to build herself an empire though – complete with rich husbands.
Yes, I said husbands. This wasn't my mom's first rodeo, and I somehow doubted it would be her last.
My eyes moved back over to Jude who was staring at my mother. He was smiling, sure, but the look wasn't nearly as intense as it should be for someone about to marry the love of his life. I guess it could just be my jealousy talking, but he seemed rather somber for what was supposed to be such a happy day. His piercing blue eyes turned toward me, catching me staring at him, and I quickly turned my attention back on my mother. My cheeks flushed red and I had to physically fight my urge to look at him again.
The ceremony, like her others, was quick and to the point. I hardly listened to the words uttered by the pastor – it wasn't like my mother would actually take her vow of forever seriously. Unless, of course, Jude was actually the one for her. But, how would they have known? They'd barely dated for three months before they were suddenly engaged. This was the first time I was meeting him in person. I had seen him around before though. Everybody knew who he was. Jude Calloway was all over magazines and television shows. The self-made billionaire had all the girls in a tizzy – me included. It almost wasn't fair that someone like my mom would get to be with him. My mom was beautiful, but ruthless, and I knew the sole reason she wanted Jude had less to do with love and more to do with his bank account. That was just a given with her.
“You may kiss your bride!” the pastor said, and my ears perked up.
I watched as Jude wrapped his strong arms around my mother's back, pulling her into him. His gaze flicked up and away from her, meeting my eyes for a split second before he lowered his face again and pressed his lips to hers. My insides ached as I watched my mom paw at this gorgeous man, wishing it was me, instead of her, in his arms.
“It is my pleasure to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Jude Calloway!” the pastor said to thunderous applause from the audience.
The recessional music started playing and we all filed out. I was directly behind the happy couple and tried to keep my head down. Don't stare at his ass, Ember. Do not stare at your new step-father's ass, no matter how tight and fine it may be.
Right then, I knew my summer break at home – with the two of them – was going to be the hardest summer of my damned life. Maybe I should have tried to book a trip somewhere instead. The thought dissipated as quickly as it had appeared though. My mom wanted me to spend time with her and my new stepdad over the summer. She called it “bonding time.”
Bonding time. Right. For me, it was going to be a summer of trying not to get caught thinking dirty thoughts about my mom's new husband.
I should have gone to Bora Bora instead.
***
My best friend Talia was sitting near the front of the reception hall with her parents. I, of course, was seated at the front with the rest of the wedding party and was surrounded by my aunts and my mother's best friend. I was the youngest person at the bridesmaid's table by at least a couple decades. The groomsmen's table, on the other hand, looked more age appropriate for me.
Jude was a bit younger than my mother. Okay, more than a bit – he was only ten years older than me. It would have made more sense for the two of us to be getting married, looking at it that way. But, for whatever reason, he'd fallen in love with my cougar mom. I was sitting beside my aunt Janice, listening to her regale us with stories about my mother sneaking out of their house when she was fifteen, so she could fuck her boyfriend at the time.
I downed the glass of champagne in front of me. There wasn't enough alcohol in the place for this. I yawned, and Talia shot me a look of pity. I rolled my eyes and pretended to gag myself with a finger. I couldn't wait for these damn toasts to be over and for the dancing to begin. At least then, we could have some fun – and I wouldn't have to listen to these horrible stories about my mother. Seriously, the last thing I wanted to think about was my mom sneaking out of her house to have sex.