When it was over Robert collapsed on top of me, still buried deep within. I could feel his wet cum running out of me when he pulled out, slickening my skin as it ran down my crotch.

"Oh fuck yeah," Robert breathed. He laid down next to me and I squirmed against his body, nuzzling into him. His two strong arms wrapped themselves around me and pressed me close as I breathed his scent in deliriously, taking him in, all of him.

Dirty, Naughty, Sexy Steps

Jackson

Your typical Aspen, Colorado, tramp--that's what she looked like. Probably pushing 40, with a yoga-sculpted body and a pair of perky C-cups that looked like they could be fake. She wore an expensive ski jacket, a pair of black tights that hugged her perfect ass, and fur-lined boots that were probably worth more than most peoples' life savings.

So when she smiled at me let’s just say I didn’t trip over myself to show her I was interested. Besides, I’m used to women throwing themselves at me when they see me in my Aspen Ski School instructor’s jacket. Nevertheless, as our gazes met across the loud, dark, crowded barroom, I entertained the thought of walking over there and talking to her.

Actually, screw that. I'd let her come to me.

I gave her a little sideways nod with my head, the one that said, ‘get over here.’ I was used to doing it, and I liked watching the way her eyes widened before looking around her, struggling to gather up the nerve to cross the room and walk over to me.

It was always my favorite part: watching a woman squirm.

Even if I didn't sleep with her--and I probably wouldn't--the game was always a fun amusement after a long day of work. And now that I was a top-tier ski instructor, giving private lessons to expert skiers on difficult, double-black-diamond terrain, I always had more than enough tip money to blow at the bar.

And maybe enough to take home a girl for the night.

From my barstool, I watched as she sinuously made her way across the crowded room, her eyes locked onto mine. Despite my cool attitude, I felt a nervous palpitation in my chest as she came closer, her face becoming ever more visible in the dim light. ‘Stay cool, Jackson,’ I told myself, trying to get a grip on my nerves before she was right in front of me.

 

Suddenly a crowd moved in between us, sitting in the barstools next to mine. I couldn't see the woman anymore, and their voices added to the din in the room, drowning out my thoughts and breaking the tension of the moment.

I decided to duck out--you could only have so many one-night stands before you sort of lost your soul and became one of those truly embittered ski-town locals, anyway.

I threw a crisp $50 bill on the bar, grabbed my jacket and ski gloves, and turned towards the door, hoping to get the hell out.

But not before a young blonde grabbed my arm and yelled, "Jackson!"

My jaw practically hit the floor.  "Mia?!" It was my stepsister, all grown up. What the hell was she doing here? She looked stunning, dressed up in a slinky black dress as if she was going out to a club or some other fancy event. I was too shocked to speak.

"I have to meet somebody," she chirped, before turning and walking away. "Call me." And with that, she was gone.

And then reality settled firmly back in as the woman I'd been flirting with arrived. "Hey, ski instructor," she cooed, brushing back her dark hair. I barely registered her presence as my eyes desperately searched the room for Mia. But she had already disappeared.

Mia

Rich. That is the most succinct way to describe my boyfriend, Ellis Buchanan. He is a billionaire, a trust-fund baby who'd grown up in Connecticut and spent lavish summers in the Hamptons and winters in Aspen. After he'd gone through his ‘hippy-phase,’ spending half his trust fund traveling around the country following Phish in a beat-up Volkswagen bus, he'd finally put his nose to the grindstone and struck out as a venture capitalist. He had backed a software development team that launched several successful smartphone apps, and now, at 29, he was sitting on top of his own massive fortune.

"Another cocktail, Mia?" he asked as I reclined on the deck of his Aspen mansion. It was a sunny, warm day in late March, and after a glorious morning on the slopes we ducked out early to avoid the Spring-break crowds. Ellis sidled up next to me where I was relaxing on a pool chair, catching some sun in my bikini.

"I'd love one, darling," I murmured, reaching out to touch his leg. Rich, tall and handsome. I looked up at his craggy face. He was blonde and blue-eyed, an all-American hunk with a head of thick, curly blond hair.

"Mmm," I purred as he held out a daiquiri in front of me and I sucked on the straw. I flicked the tip of the straw with my tongue lasciviously before he pulled the drink away.

"It's strong," I winced as the liquor burned its way down my throat.

"I'll have Ricardo make them a little sweeter," Ellis smiled, playfully tousling my hair before walking back into the house.

I turned and admired his muscled body as he disappeared into the house. Make that rich, tall, handsome and RIPPED, I thought. And he was sweet. Maybe too sweet, always waiting on me hand and foot.

Ellis emerged again with another drink. I took the cold glass from his hands and sucked on the straw contentedly.

"It's perfect, sweetie," I chirped as Ellis gazed at my body lovingly. "What's on the agenda for today?” Most of Ellis' family was vacationing in Aspen, and we usually had to meet up with one of his rich aunts or uncles or something.

"We should be meeting the Carringtons for drinks soon."

"Ugh," I groaned in mock consternation. I stretched out luxuriously, feeling the blood rush back into my limbs. "I don't want to get up."

Ellis' face grew tight with concern; he never wanted to make me do anything. He put a hand on my shoulder reassuringly.

"Of course, if you want to stay here, that's totally okay."

I rolled my eyes behind my sunglasses. Dating Ellis sometimes felt like having my own personal servant. "No sweetie, that's fine," I laughed, "I was just kidding."

"Don't you have some family here?" he asked, "your stepbrother?"

I felt my chest tighten. My stepbrother. I knew he lived in the area, but I hadn't seen him in five years, since he ran out on me and my mom, putting us both in a tight spot. I hated him, knew I shouldn't forgive him, but at the same time I'd had an all-consuming crush on him from the moment we first met, and he'd lived in my fantasies ever since. He was the one thing I didn't want to think about. Not right now anyway.

"Yeah," I ventured. I hoped my discomfort wasn't obvious.

"Well," Ellis grinned, totally oblivious, "let's all go out sometime. I still haven't met any of your family."

"Let's go see the Carringtons," I said sourly, getting up, "I'll try to look up my stepbrother tonight."

"Cool, sounds good. It should be fun."

****

I turned off the tap and leaned back luxuriously in the calming bath; still, I couldn't quite get the tension to disappear.

 

I'll try to look him up. Ha! Where would I even begin? As far as I knew, Jackson didn't even have a phone, a mailing address, a Facebook, or anything. All I knew was that he'd left town when he was eighteen, following his buddy Dave out to Colorado, looking for work as a ski instructor. We'd been counting on him to stay and help us, but he'd left in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye.