Crude: A Stepbrother Romance

by Irons, Aubrey

  “Well, you know lots of people associate you with your father because of your last name, but I hope I’m not the first one to make a political reference about your first name!” Amy chuckles; yeah, yet another joke I’ve only heard about eight-million times since I started politics.

  “So anyways Reagan, why don’t you tell us a bit more about what it feels like to be the media sensation you’ve become since announcing your candidacy? I mean - and no offense meant here - State Senate races are rarely given the amount of limelight you’ve manages to shine onto the New York state primaries.”

  “Oh, no offense taken Amy, you see-”

  Hudson clears his throat; “If I could just insert something here, Amy.” I groan and grab the edge of the desk with white knuckles as I feel Hudson push two of his finger into my opening, sliding them deep inside of me. I glare up at him, but he’s still mugging for the camera. “I think Reagan’s strong suit is her ability to galvanize people and get them to pay attention. It’s all about rubbing people the right way.” I swallow my gasp as his thumb begins to roll over my aching clit, sending electric shocks through my whole body right there on live television. I decide right there that if I somehow make it off this stage, I’m going to murder him.

  The interview continues, and somehow I find myself on autopilot; answering Amy’s questions with answers that just sort of come to me while I sit there smiling at the cameras like a robot as Hudson’s magic fingers coax me higher and higher, until I’m terrified that I’m going to come right here on live television and give the whole fucking thing away. But then, the interview is over, and everyone is cheering at my apparently winning answers, and it’s right there, in the midst of everything clapping and cheering, that Hudson manages to completely push me over the edge of my climax. I cry out, but it just looks like I’m shouting my exuberance to my adoring voter base, instead of what it is I’m actually doing, which is having a fucking orgasm on live Goddamn TV.

  “I am going to kill you!” I hiss into his ear as we stand after it’s over; smoothing my skirt down and trying to find my breath.

  “Bring it, Red.” He grins, winking at me.

  Amy shakes my hand, and mercifully not Hudson’s, before he’s leading me out the stage door to the side parking lot.

  “What the fuck was that?” Donald is standing there waiting for us just outside with his arms crossed over his chubby chest and his face looking furious.

  “Uh, excuse me?” My voice falters as I suddenly have a horrible thought that he knows what Hudson was doing to me up there during the interview.

  “What happened to sticking to the Goddamned SCRIPT, Reagan!” Donald honestly looks furious, and I’m suddenly realizing that I never glanced down at his list of canned answers once during the whole thing. I did the whole interview off-the-cuff while Hudson was driving me wild; probably giving the answers I wanted to give instead of the boring, middle-of-the-road ones he wanted me to say.

  “I- I don’t now, it just felt natural to say what I wanted to say, Donald.”

  Hudson is tugging me away towards his car, and Donald is sputtering as he trails after us.“Where the hell do you think you’re going? Uh, excuse me, Hudson, I’m not done with my fucking candidate yet!”

  We’re at his car, and Hudson suddenly whirls on Donald; “Yes, you are.” He says, his voice deep and leaden as he stares down my campaign manager. He turns to me as he opens the passenger door; “Hop in, Senator.”

  *****

  This time it’s me that hits the emergency button inside Hudson’s elevator, and the surprised look on his face only gets better when I just start to pull my clothes off right there. But when I turn around and press my hands against the glass and arch my ass back at him, I’m pretty sure that surprise turns into something else pretty quickly. He growls as he enters me, and then he fucks me like he owns me, and it’s exactly how I want him to fuck me. His grip is tight on my hip, even bringing his hand down to smack my ass and make me cry out against the glass and the neon New York skyline. He grabs me by the hair and turns my face into his kiss, and I’m clawing and screaming at the edges of my sanity as I feel his length fill me again and again and again. When I come, he’s right there with me, pressing his body flush to mine as we ride that wave together, our choked breaths coming as one as our heartbeats racing the other in a dead sprint.

  I have officially gone off-script; both with the campaign and with whatever it is I’m doing with Hudson, and quite honestly, I’ve never been happier.

  P R E S E N T

  A few nights later, we’re driving in my car and I’m almost insulted when she doesn’t ask me where we’re going, but I see the grin on her face out the corner of my eye as I take us over the George Washington bridge and onto the Palisades Parkway. I let the horses under the hood roar as I gun us up the west side of the Hudson, letting New York fall away behind us in the rearview mirror as we head into the night.

  Finally, I cave; “Well, shit, don’t you even want to know where we’re going?” Reagan’s face breaks into a wide smile; “I mean come on Archer, I prepared this whole little speech and everything.” I shake my head, feeling alive and on fire and more whole than I’ve felt in a very long time.

  “I’ve got an idea where we’re going, but please, lets hear this speech of yours.” She sticks her tongue out at me, her whole face lit up by the dash and her smile just flashing right into me.

  “Well, now I’ve forgotten it.” I shake my head as I sigh dramatically; “Your loss too, it was a good one.”

  She laughs that musical laugh of hers and slides over across the bench seat against me. And as my arm goes around her shoulders and draws her close, I realize I have and will never feel more like Steve McQueen than I do in that perfect moment. It’s just Reagan and I, the car, and the road, and it’s just fucking perfect.

  I know she thinks she knows where we’re going; to our place where the romance that didn’t, that couldn’t happen back then. But then is not now, and things are very different now with Reagan and I than they were back then a lifetime ago. I mean I was crazy about her back then, even if I didn’t know what to do with it. And now? Well now that I’m in lo- wow, shit. I feel my heart pound as I mull over that particular four-letter word, but I don’t even have to dwell on it to know its true.

  When we drive past the Bear Mountain turnoff I know she recognizes, I grin broadly seeing her glance back at the sign out of the corner of my eye. She looks at me with a sly look; “Alright, you got me.”

  “I’d say so.”

  *****

  She’s cracking up by the time I park the car, and as we stroll arm and arm towards the entrance she looks at me and shakes her head; “Seriously? A Renaissance faire?”

  I grin; “Hey, might as well put that one semester to use huh?” She rolls her eyes and I pull her to me and kiss her hard as she melts into me. “You know,” I say, breaking away for a second; “I think it’s good for you to get out of that city sometimes. Now com’on Senator, let’s go get us some culture.”

  “Oh, culture? Is that what we’re here for?” She nods towards two guys dressed in actual metal armor chugging enormous steins of beer while a woman dressed as some sort of tavern wench with her tits half hanging out cheers them on and shouts things like “m’lord.”

  I shrug; “Well, you know, someone’s culture.”

  She laughs, hugging my arm tighter in the chill of the air, and then we’re laughing as she loops her arm through mine and we stroll through fair-grounds.

  “Why do I feel like I’m in high school or something right now?”

  I laugh; “Were you a big Dungeons and Dragon’s kid in high school?”

  “No!” She rolls her eyes at me in that adorable way that just makes me smile; “No I mean strolling around a fair like this, renaissance or not.” She shrugs; “I always wanted to stroll around a fairgrounds with some hot boy on my arm.” She raises her eyes and looks at me, a blush of pink spreading over her cheeks.

  “Oh, what,
like you didn’t have guys beating down your door to stroll around anywhere with you back then?”

  She shrugs; “Nope, I guess not. Com’on, you met me during that phase, back at that graduation party.”

  I stare at her like she’s insane; “Yeah, and you were a fucking knockout.”

  “I was a bookworm.”

  “Yeah and that’s worked out terribly for you, hasn’t it Madame State Senator.” I shake my head at her as she giggles; “And besides, I did meet you back then, and you were, and remain, a total babe.”

  She grins and pulls me in for a kiss; “So, how’s the fairground fantasy so far, Archer?” I murmur into her lips.

  She laughs and looks around us until her eyes fixate on something behind us; “Well, you could go win me that stuffed dragon over there, that might make it complete.” She winks at me and leans close; “You might even get lucky later if you do.”

  I arch my eyebrows, already feeling my cock stir in my pants; “Lucky- like I get to pick what we listen to on the way home?” I grin, knowingly baiting her.

  She leans in again and brushes her lips across my ear; “Oh I meant lucky like you get to bend me over the hood of your car and fuck me like you mean it on the way home.”

  She pulls away and winks at me, and I’m practically speechless; “You know I could just buy you the fucking toy and we could get to that part now.” She giggles as she grabs my hand and pulls me towards the game stands, and I’m wondering how I’m going to throw a fucking knife with a hard-on threatening to tear through my pants.

  Both Reagan and the guy dressed like a jester stare at me with their jaws on the ground when I manage to not only hit the bullseye on the first throw, but then subsequently split the handle of that first knife with the second and then third throws. I shrug and grin smugly at the guy as he wordlessly passes me the stuffed toy before I turn to bestow it on Reagan.

  “Ok, where the hell did you-”

  “Eh, it’s just this thing I can do.” I don’t need to tell her that back in Africa, throwing knives were like the chess game of the mercenary circuit.

  She’s just shaking her head at me though as she laughs and slips her hand into mine; “I don’t want to know, do I?”

  I laugh; “Someday, but for now, there’s some fried dough over there with our name on it; classic fairground fantasy fodder.” She wrinkles her nose at the mention of fried dough, but I pull her close and kiss her; “And then, don’t think I’m not going to take you up on that offer of bending you over that car and fucking that sweet pussy of yours.” I growl, nodding with my chin at the stuffed dragon in her hand and letting her feel how hard I am as I press against her.

  “You promise?” She whispers, her voice thick.

  I do manage to get her to eat fried dough, and we drink hot cider, and even watch a damned jousting match, and it’s amazing. No one knows her here; no one gives a shit who she is, and that’s a good thing. We laugh, and we’re making out in public like two idiot teenagers, and we’re invisible to the world around us. Out here, she’s not some hotshot politician. Out here, in my arms, she’s just a beautiful girl, kissing the luckiest guy in the damn world.

  P R E S E N T

  “It looks so quiet from up here.”

  I’d grinned and feel a little thrill of excitement shiver through me when Hudson swerved off the main road onto the turnoff I’d recognized before. We’re back at our lookout spot on Bear Mountain looking out over the Hudson River and the shining lights of New York in the distance beyond that, just like we were all those years ago. Now though, it’s like I took every romantic fantasy I had back then and made them real. This time, we aren’t sitting on opposite sides, not touching and just sitting in our own unspoken feelings. This time, I’m snuggled right up against him, his arm is around my shoulders, and I’m leaning my head into his chest. Our hands toy with each other, palms sliding together and fingers interlocking with fingers as we just stare out over the city in the stillness of the night.

  “You’re right, you know,” I say, running my fingers over his wrist; “I do need to get out more often and just get away from all that.” I sigh; “Sometimes it just feels like I’m trapped in this whole act that isn’t even me; like I’m just playing a part in this play and spilling out the lines from this character I wasn’t ever meant to play.”

  “You should speak your mind and say what you wanna say more often, Archer.” He grins; “Hell, you don’t ever hold back with me and you’ve seemed to have gotten my attention.”

  I laugh and smack his hand away as it slides down over my breast; “Oh is that the kind of attention I’m looking for with my core voter pool?”

  He snorts; “Hell no, this belongs to me only.” His hands slides back down and cups my breast through my thin sweater, and I roll my eyes.

  “Oh, belongs to you, huh? So I guess I’m just your own private little plaything?”

  “Yep, you’ve got it.”

  I laugh again and nuzzle my face into his broad strong chest; “How come I can never tell if you’re a good influence or a terrible one?”

  He chuckles; “Tell me that’s not half the fun.”

  I close my eyes and grin and just savor the moment; “I just feel like we missed out on so much time, because of, well, you know.”

  He reaches down and turns my face up with his fingers on my chin, and his eyes are boring right into mine; “It was time I needed to figure out me, and and time that you needed to become, well, look at you; now you’re this fucking sexy as hell State Senate candidate.”

  I roll my eyes in mock disdain; “Oh, now? What was I back then, hmm?”

  He kisses me fiercely; “Oh you just weren’t a politician back then;” his slides his tongue teasingly over my lips, making me smile; “But that doesn’t mean you weren’t sexy as fuck.”

  Something about the way he says that word fuck sends a shiver of arousal through my body, and the fact that his hand is still on breast and that his finger is starting to circle slowly around my nipple through the thin material of the sweater has me suddenly squirming in my seat against him.

  “Say it again,” I whisper, biting my lip as I feel his mouth slide down to my ear.

  “What,” he says, sending electric shocks through my whole nervous system as he growls into my ear; “That you’re sexy as fuck?”

  A small gasp escapes my lips as my eyes close, and I can feel him grin devilishly into my ear; “Ahh, does innocent little Reagan Archer get hot and bothered when I say the word ‘fuck’?”

  “I’m innocent am I?”

  “Not after I’m done with you.”

  The moan that drops from my lips is the only confirmation he needs, and suddenly his hands are doing a lot more than teasing. I gasp as he slides them up under my sweater and under my bra, his fingers teasing my nipples. He kisses me fiercely, his lips bruising mine as he growls into my mouth, and only pulling back to pull the sweater off over my head and tear my bra off.

  His hands are on my waist, his fingers teasing along the seam of my jeans; “Take these off,” he growls into my mouth. I look around sheepishly, even though I know we’re the only ones up here.

  “Now, Princess.”

  His words send a throbbing wave of desire right through me. God, how does he do that to me? I’m not one to be bossed around like this, and yet no sooner does he say it then I’m unbuttoning them and pulling them down off my feet.

  “Those too.” He draws my mouth back to his as I skim my panties down my legs, and then I’m totally naked in the front of seat of Hudson Banks’s Charger. I curl my legs up under me, but he stops me with a hand on my thigh; “Uh-uh, show me.” He looks at me like a wolf cornering his prey; “Show me how you played with yourself when you’d think of me.”