My Pregnant Stepsister

No, actually, it was more like they treated him like a rock star crossed with the Pope who was also an Olympic hero.

And of course, he was, without a doubt, the most aggressively nice guy around. He was annoyingly nice. He would chat people up, and he knew every little thing about every single person. He would talk to the other salespeople and the bosses one minute, and the secretaries and the janitors the next. He would even talk to those old-timers who had been working under his dad for years. He would schmooze them up in a way that would seem totally false from most others, but not him. I think he actually cared about these people, which is just nuts to me. He was either the most incredibly friendly guy around or an incredible con man. But as time went on, he never slipped. His perfect veneer never wavered, even after working here for some months. It seemed like he was actually as perfect as everyone thought he was.

His rise within the company was unprecedented, but his high intelligence, humor, and charisma made him an absolute natural. Even I had to admit that. He was very good at his job. The big bosses loved him, and he almost became the poster boy for the company. He was the guy the company sent out for PR events, the young, handsome face of the company, not because his dad is the CEO, but because he was good at his work.

His face was probably on a company billboard somewhere. I'd definitely seen him on the website.

He was a lifer here for sure, and judging by how his life was going, the rest of it was no doubt going to be very good. He was already set, and it seemed like he barely had to try. His future was very bright.

God, it was so annoying!

He was just one of those guys that had everything come to him, you know? If he bought one lottery ticket, he would win. If he went to a baseball game, he would catch the foul ball. If he dug a hole in his backyard, he would strike oil. Everything just went his way. It was infuriating how easy he had it. I hated him with a passion. He was just... he was just too good, you know? He was too perfect. It just HAD to be a facade. No one was that nice. No one cared that much about other people. I would see him at work, and it was so obvious to me what he was doing. A con man couldn't do it better. He was such a good smooth-talker, and it was just so natural for him. He did it with everyone, and they loved him for it. People bent over backward to be in his presence to have his attention.

To his credit, he was great at one-on-one interaction. When he talked to you, it felt like he was your best friend, like your problems were the only thing on his mind. He came across as totally genuine and truly caring. It was infuriating! I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes when he flashed those pearly whites and gave that charming laugh of his.

I couldn't let anyone else see how much Joshua frustrated me. How irritating I found him. It was impossible for anyone to hate the immaculate Joshua, apparently. And even voicing the slightest bit of that annoyance would be enough to make me the talk of the office. Not that I wasn't already, but that's a whole other part of the story.

I can't tell you how many times I had to look up and watch him chatting with the executives, seeing them slapping him on the back like a son. I gritted my teeth every time he made some old lady giggle, or some young woman blush. I gave him my death glare when I heard him effortlessly transition from talking intelligently about world events with one group of people to chatting up fantasy football with another.

Plus, because he had to just have everything going for him, he was also very good-looking, of course. The girls in the office always talked about his cute smile and his square jaw, the dimples, and that perfectly unkempt hair. The less inhibited girls talked openly about his impressive, fit body and cute butt. He was this perfect, All-American golden boy. Good-looking, with the perfect life, a pretty wife, a perfect house, and a perfect body.

He would be the guy in the pictures when you bought a picture frame. He would be the love interest in some terrible rom-com. He was just so boringly perfect.

If it wasn't clear already, I just couldn't stand him.

But, God, did I ever want to have him.

I know. I know... I couldn't explain it. He was so not my type. I preferred the type of guy I would find at the club, a guy who could knock back a few drinks. A guy who would look at me and give me that look, that "I want to have you right now" look. A guy who would buy me drinks, chat me up, and take me to bed at the first opportunity.

I knew I had terrible taste in guys, but those obvious flirts, those boisterous party guys who just obviously wanted a piece of my body... those guys were just way more fun. Guys like Joshua were normally boring to me.

I couldn't explain it. He was so clean-cut, and boyish, and seemingly innocent, a good, friendly, nice guy. Ugh... boring, right? But when I would see him, being the perfect guy, all I could think about was that he had to have a dark side.

He HAD to. He couldn't actually be perfect. He had to have some sort of character flaw. Maybe he was a freak in the bedroom, but I couldn't even imagine him. He no doubt made sweet, nice love to his pretty wife on a bed of flowers in the sunshine, while birds sang. I couldn't imagine his mouth in a snarl, having some woman hard.

I couldn't imagine his muscles taut with need. I couldn't imagine his cute butt flexing. I couldn't imagine hearing him growl in my ear, his voice heavy with lust. I couldn't imagine his small, manly hands on my large chest, squeezing them, taking them like a man. I would squeeze his butt hard as he took me, screaming at him to take me like I'm his, bite my neck, squeeze my breasts, and take me like the stud he was. God, I would let him do it all to me. I would let him try to make a good woman out of me.

Yeah, that's how it kinda started...

Despite my best efforts, for some reason, he would keep popping up in my dreams. My fantasies. At some point, the wires in my brain got crossed, and suddenly a guy like him became the object of my lust. He was attractive, okay! I admit it!

As annoying as I found him, I couldn't look at him without my thoughts turning into thoughts of sex. Thoughts of sex with him. Thoughts of all the bad things I could teach a good boy like him. Whispers of his butt and his noticeable bulge were commonplace in the office, and even I wasn't immune.

I hated myself for it. I hated myself for wanting him. I hated that a boring old nice guy could get my body stirring. He was the type of guy my mom would approve of. Ugh! I hated that I, just like all the rest, was susceptible to his charms. I should know better. I could see through him, but it didn't make a bit of difference. I hated the guy, but I wanted his body.

Oh, did I ever want that body of his. I would take him into me, hold him, and swallow him. I would blow his mind with the things I could do. Thoughts of him being a part of me became commonplace.

He was nice to everyone, even me. He had no reason to like me. He barely knew me, but he would be perfectly willing to chat me up, even though everyone knew about my... reputation. Some others at his level knew enough to stay away from me, but he wasn't afraid to talk to me. I would be polite and cordial, but I had trouble hiding my annoyance, and I'm sure he could sense it. But that never stopped him from being friendly to me. That never stopped him from saying hello. And when he'd walk away from me, I'd roll my eyes at him in annoyance as I was a little wet.

On one hand, I couldn't stand him and didn't want to be anywhere near him. On the other, I wanted to open my legs for him, let him use me, and have all of his babies.

What the heck is wrong with me?