Eyes on Me (Salacious Players’ Club)

Garrett

My run was hard this morning. Harder than usual.

Getting out of bed. Putting on my shoes. Walking out the door.

Hard, hard, hard.

But I did it. I shoved away the gross lurking gloom that sometimes rears its ugly head, and I went for a run despite feeling like shit. And it didn’t matter that it was nearly an eleven-minute mile or that I wanted to stop seven times. I made it clear around the nine-mile loop, and that’s something.

The events of last night—or was it this morning—keep replaying in my mind. During my entire run, my mind was on an endless shame-regret-disgust loop. Did I go too far? This is new territory with Mia, but teasing her is all I really know. I don’t want to scare her, though, and I sure as fuck don’t want to hurt her. I shouldn’t have forced her down like that, but in my defense, I really thought it was just playful wrestling. How was I to know my dick was going to get so excited?

One thing is for sure…that physical attraction I wanted to investigate is definitely alive and well.

I shove the shame and disgust thoughts away for a moment to remember how soft her body felt in my hands, how quickly I got aroused with her against me, how good she smelled, and just how badly I wanted to let my cock slip inside her and make her mine. Truly mine.

Whoa. Where the fuck did that come from?

When was the last time I had that thought or urge? Longer than I’d care to admit.

I resigned myself to being broken long ago. The drive to fuck was gone, and I became easily content to stay on the sidelines and just watch. Sex has been a spectator sport for so long. So why now? And why the fuck her?

Maybe Emerson and Charlie are getting inside my head. The way they look at each other, touch each other, constantly leaning on each other as if they actually fucking complete each other. It’s just screwing with my sanity. Making me want something I’ve always sworn I didn’t. And that’s still true. The idea of dating has absolutely no appeal to me.

So why does the idea of doing that with my own fucking stepsister not sound half bad? What sort of twisted psychosis shit is that? I’d rather go back to feeling the shame and regret honestly.

My head has been so fucked this week.

There’s motion off to the right as I turn the last corner back to the cabin and see a bikini-clad Mia doing yoga on a stand-up paddleboard in the middle of the lake with my mother. They’re both trying to maintain serious, calm expressions, but each of them break out in giggles at the slightest wobble in their form.

I feel better seeing Mia smile. I didn’t see her this morning, and I was honestly afraid she would be sulking all day or allowing my shitty behavior to ruin her relaxing summer. But she looks good out there. Which means I should definitely get the fuck out of here before they see me and I ruin their time together.

“Garrett!” my mother calls, and I grimace. “Get over here!”

Reluctantly, I jog down to the bank and wave at my mom. Then, I brave a glance in Mia’s direction, and our eyes meet for a moment. She doesn’t look as angry as I expect her to; instead, she looks nervous as she glances back down.

Yep, I definitely made shit weird when I dry humped her into the couch last night. I’m an idiot.

“How was your run?” Mom asks.

“It was good.”

“It’s nice to see you running again.”

I instantly clench up. Squinting my eyes, I look away. Why are mothers so open about everything? Why does she have to bring up the dark shit like it’s nothing? I clear my throat and nod.

“Yeah,” I reply with nothing else to contribute. I do notice Mia’s attention suddenly back on me with a little more curiosity than before.

“Well…my replacement is here,” my mom adds with a wink.

“What?” Mia replies, looking at her.

I notice the way Mia adjusts her bottoms and wraps her hands around her middle when she sees me watching. As if she’s trying to hide something about herself.

“Come on, Garrett. Your turn,” my mother calls, paddling herself to the dock. I help her climb out, and she wobbles a little more once her feet are on solid-ish ground.

“I just ran nine miles. Do I really need to do paddleboard yoga now?” I ask, and I spot some reluctance on Mia’s face. My mom has no idea that forcing us together right now is incredibly awkward, but I guess it’s a good thing she doesn’t know.

“It’s okay. I’ll get out,” Mia cuts in with a look of disappointment hidden under that forced smile.

Mom’s not having any of that. “Don’t you dare. You just got out here. Plus, Garrett needs to stretch after that run.”

I hesitantly slip off my sneakers and tear off my sweaty shirt. It might be nice to actually have some alone time with Mia. My mom hands me her paddle and I lower myself down on the empty board.

Mia’s watching me with a tight-lipped expression as my board cants to one side then the other, and I know for certain that, at some point, I’m going into the water.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks, holding back the urge to laugh.

“No,” I reply.

Mia giggles as I take forever finding my balance. The tension between us fades into the background for the time being. And we focus solely on how I must have the world’s worst balance and can’t seem to stay upright on a stand-up paddleboard.

“Why don’t you just sit down? It’s easier to start that way.”

I laugh, looking at her with a blush on my cheeks as I drop to my ass on the board. Holding the paddle across my body, I row toward the middle of the lake with her. She’s kneeling, her spine straight and her shoulders back. In the late afternoon light, she looks so beautiful, it’s actually breathtaking.

“You have to find your balance,” she says as I wobble again, nearly falling off. I’m still on my butt—how is that even possible?

“Yeah…I don’t have a lot of balance.”

“Deep breath. Just relax. You’re trying too hard.”

“Ha. Said no one ever.”

“Garrett, I’m serious. Just take a deep breath and relax.”

When I glance over at her, she’s the picture of serenity. I love the way her cheeks look with a little sunburn under her eyes and no makeup.

All right, all right. Deep breath.

I do as she says, and on the long exhale, it feels as if I’m releasing air that I’ve been holding on to for too long. It feels…nice.

“Better,” she says softly, her gentle voice carrying across the calm waters. I can’t for the life of me understand why she’s being so nice to me, especially after last night.

“Better,” I say, repeating her. It’s quiet for a while as we paddle without speaking.

Finally, she looks over at me as she says, “Aren’t you going to apologize to me?”

“Apologize for what?” I reply, although I know. And while I’m aware I should apologize, knowing and gathering the balls to actually do it are two different things.

“For being an asshole. For attacking me,” she says as she curls a lock of wispy hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t seem to mind…” I reply with a teasing grin.

“Yeah, exactly. You totally played me. And if I hadn’t stood my ground, you would have taken advantage of me.”

“Is it still considered being taken advantage of if you were so eager for it, your pussy was practically searching for my dick?”

“Oh my God,” she screams. Using her paddle, she splashes me with a wave of water. “We are not having this conversation. My pussy was not searching for your dick. I don’t even want your dick.”

“Oh, Garrett,” I say in a taunting high-pitched tone, mimicking how she sounded last night.

Even as she turns her face away from me, I catch the way she’s biting her bottom lip, trying to hide her smile. “I hate you.”

“That might be true, but I didn’t do anything to you last night that you weren’t thirsty for.”

“Because you caught me at a weak moment,” she replies.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, paddling closer to her. “Been a while for you?”

“You could say that,” she mumbles under her breath.

“Well, I promise you, it’s been longer for me.” I’m not sure why I’m giving that away, but knowing that Mia seems to be struggling romantically has me feeling some sort of way. Like somewhat pleased…that I’m not the only one. Or that no one is able to satisfy her. Either way, it’s good to know.

“So you were thirsty for it too,” she says, looking back at me. “I felt it.”

I can’t help the grin that pulls across my cheeks as I stare at her. I love how unabashed Mia is when it comes to sex, and I guess that comes from being a camgirl. Or maybe it’s why she’s such a good one, because even with her stepbrother, she’s not going to shy away from talking about how my cock got hard for her.

“I am only a man,” I reply.

“Well, keep it in your pants,” she snaps. “Because you and I are never going there.”

“Whatever you say. But I’m going to get you to tell me about this secret new job of yours, one way or another.”

She shakes her head, as if exasperated by me, and chooses not to argue with me on this topic. Instead, she changes the subject. Chewing on her lip, she asks, “What did your mom mean? About seeing you run again. When did you stop?”

This isn’t the topic I want to switch to, but I can’t exactly avoid it now. “Nothing. I just…didn’t run for a whole year.”

“When was that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nine or ten years ago.”

When I look back at her, she’s staring at me with a pensive expression on her face, and I swear it sometimes feels like Mia can see right through me. Like I can’t even keep a single thought away from her, and while that might seem romantic or sweet, to me, it’s terrifying. If she saw inside my mind, I’m afraid of how she would react.

“Are you ready to stand up?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not really.”

She giggles. “Don’t be a little bitch. Now, get on your knees.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” I reply, and she glares at me.

“Garrett! Be serious for a second!” She tries to keep a stern expression, but it quickly morphs into a laugh.

Mia has such a full laugh—full of what, I don’t know. Full of life or something. It’s infectious. The kind of laugh that makes everyone around her join in. It’s literally impossible to keep the grin off my face. And other than the one night a week I meet up with my friends at the bar, I can’t remember the last time I really laughed—or smiled.

“Okay, okay,” I say, moving awkwardly to my knees. My board wobbles, of course, but I manage to stay on as I position myself into a kneeling pose next to Mia.

“Not terrible.”

“Thanks. Now what?”

“Now, plant your hands, tuck your toes, and push up.” Suddenly, Mia’s ass is in the air, and I can’t seem to look away. Her brightly painted fingernails are planted against her board and her toes mirror the action. Her thick, muscled legs stretch all the way up from her toes to her plump ass in that yellow bikini.

Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?

Mia has always had the perfect body. The only time she didn’t was when she started to look too thin back in high school. Or maybe it’s the fact that she’s always seemed comfortable in her own body, exuding confidence as if she doesn’t care about the slight swell of her belly or the soft pillows of skin poking out from the sides of her bikini bottoms. Whenever she sits down, her hips create this little crease on the sides that would drive a man wild.

“Stop staring at my ass and do it,” she barks.

Fuck, she caught me gawking at her body like a horny teenager. Around Mia, that’s exactly what I feel like. I’m thirty-six, not fifteen.

And she’s only…twenty-three.

Fuck, Mia is twenty-three. Why does that thought feel like I’m being hit by a semi? Like I’m suddenly realizing that the little girl is gone, replaced by a mature woman. It’s not like I didn’t know she was twenty-three. But I remember being her age. I still felt like a kid, and I certainly acted like one. I was fresh out of college, drinking and partying way too much, and acting so reckless it’s a miracle I’m still alive.

But Mia is not like that at all. She’s ten times more mature than I was at her age, and it’s not some excuse I can use to justify suddenly lusting after her and grinding her into the couch, just to feel the friction on my dick.

“Garrett…” she groans, grabbing my attention again.

“Yes, yes. Sorry. Toes under. Hands planted. Hips up.” As I shove my backside into the air, I’m surprised to find that I actually don’t fall into the water. Letting my head hang, I keep my eyes on her as I feel my calves stretch. Her long blonde hair waves in the slight breeze, the ends wet against the board, and she turns her head toward me, a bright smile on her face.

“Holy shit. You did it!”

“Now what?”

“Now, walk your feet and hands together until you can slowly roll up to standing.”

“Ha,” I reply. “You’re joking, right?”

Miraculously, I watch her do it, and she makes it look easy. She steps forward until her feet are planted just behind her hands. Damn, she’s flexible. And her ass somehow still looks perfect from this angle. I mean…an ass is an ass. Even upside down, I can admire it.

As she slowly rolls upward, I watch beads of sweat cascade down her spine. I’d like to trace my fingers along the trail they just left.

Focus, Garrett.

I mimic her actions, taking a much smaller step forward, since my tight calves would never let me bend in half the way hers let her. As I start to roll upward, her touch on my arm startles me. Steadying me, she runs her hand from my shoulder, over my biceps, to my hand.

“You got it!” She squeals as I stand all the way up on my board, tightly holding her hand in my grip like an anchor.

“Oh, this isn’t so bad,” I reply, but I don’t let go of her hand.

“You might actually be good at yoga.”

Her grip slips from my hand before I can say anything, but our gazes catch. There’s a long tense moment when it feels like everything between us has changed, and I don’t know if it’s just me or if she feels it too.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles softly. “But I can’t help myself.”

“What?” I manage to say before the hand that was just holding mine shoves against my shoulder, and I go careening into the water. Just as I break the surface, I hear that full, delicious laugh of hers. And it sounds so good to my ears, I couldn’t possibly be mad.

Even I can admit, I deserved that.