Mickie locked gazes with Shane. He flashed her a smirk then poked his head above the island they lay behind.
“Hey Hunter!” He waved and Mickie wilted.
“What the hell are you doing over there?”
The sound of Hunter’s voice drawing closer made Mickie scramble for her clothes as quietly as possible. But that bastard Shane locked a hand on her hip and kept her still. She squirmed, trying to free herself from his grip as she grasped for the hem of her tank top, sprawled on the floor only inches from her fingers.
She dug her nails into the soft, tender flesh of Shane’s inner thigh. He let out a yelp and dropped back beneath the island, letting his grip on her lessen as he did so.
“What the…?” came Hunter’s voice again.
Then her other stepbrother was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest as he cast a disapproving look between them both. Mickie froze on her knees in mid-reach for her tank top.
In many ways, Hunter was the exact opposite of his twin brother. Both were jaw-dropping handsome, in good shape. Both sported tattoos, although Hunter had fewer, and only one on his left bicep was slightly visible. Whereas Shane had a full left sleeve of tribal intertwined with images that held personal significance. An ouroboros peeked out from between stark black swirls. A wizard was inked just above his elbow, embedded in the wall of a melting castle.
Hunter’s hair was cut shorter, done in gelled spikes. His face was a far more serious mask of disapproval, compared to his brother’s impish ear to ear smile.
Shane snatched up his underwear and Hunter spoke again. His glare, full of quiet anger, zoned in on Mickie when he said, “What, fucking one of us wasn’t enough for you? And Dad thinks you’re the responsible one.”
Shane’s grin became a frown of confusion. He glanced from Mickie to his brother. “What’re you talking about?”
“Ask Mickie.” Hunter gave a bitter scoff before walking away, toward his bedroom.
Shane shot her a questioning glance.
Mickie sighed, felt her face flush. She yanked on her tank top and reached for her underwear. “We’ll talk about it another time,” she murmured, then quickly shimmied into her panties and shorts before she left the kitchen to talk to Hunter.
Shane followed after her. “Wait! What’s wrong with—”
She panicked as he drew nearer, fearing a confrontation between her twin stepbrothers. So Mickie slammed Hunter’s door in Shane’s face. She received a disgruntled “Hey!” from the other side, then Shane pounded on the wood. For good measure, she locked it.
Taking a deep breath, she faced Hunter. He’d been rummaging through one of his dresser drawers, but when he saw she wasn’t leaving he stopped, folded his arms over his t-shirt clad chest, and stared her down.
“Please don’t tell him,” she whispered. “At least, not right now. It’ll only complicate things more—”
He snorted in disgust. “Yeah, let’s protect Shane. Keep the truth from the precious little rock star. He’s so fragile.” He shook his head and stalked over to his bed, flopping down atop it. “But it’s no big deal I just caught you fucking him. It’s just Hunter, so who cares?”
She tried to swallow down her shame and guilt. “You know it’s not like that.” She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. “I made a mistake, let Shane get to me just now …” She sighed. “Just like I did with you four years ago.”
He sat up. His frown deepened. “Oh, so I was a mistake?”
Mickie slapped her forehead and hated herself for her poor choice of words. “Ugh… Hunter, look, I’m sticking my foot in my mouth all over the place. I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry. For what you just saw. For what I just said.”
“Sure.” Hunter shrugged and avoided her eyes. His face and body were tense with anger. Then before he could continue, his cell phone rang. He seemed relieved for the interruption, snatching it up and answering quickly as he moved to the other end of the bedroom.
He spoke in hushed tones, and she bit her lip as she watched him. Hunter was the calmer of the two twins, and also the shy one. He wasn’t the lothario his brother was, mostly due to his withdrawn nature. Hunter didn’t see himself as some gorgeous stud. Whereas Shane was confident about his sexual nature, Hunter tried to downplay his. Mickie could relate to Hunter’s quiet, reserved disposition more, but she admitted she’d always been intrigued by her rock star brother’s flash and swagger.
But it had been Hunter, four years ago, who’d seduced her first. No, she’d seduced him as much as he had her. She had been as willing a participant as him.
It was the night of Hunter’s grad. He’d decided against the prom, saying it just wasn’t his thing. But after a beer and a spliff she’d smuggled from their dad’s secret stash, he’d revealed he didn’t ask anyone to go. He just couldn’t work up the courage. So Mickie had pulled him off the floor and told him she’d go with him.
“You can’t miss your prom, Hunter,” she’d told him, and she’d fished his old tux out of his closet. The last time he’d worn it was to the wedding of his dad and her mom, when he was fifteen.
“It’s a little tight,” he’d said, frowning at the way the jacket molded to his biceps.
Mickie hadn’t complained. It’s snugness outline the curve of his pecs nicely, showed off the way his waist tapered into a muscular ass and sculpted thighs.
“It looks fine,” she’d told him, but they never made it to his graduation dance. He’d asked her for a dance after she changed into a slinky red slip dress, stole a kiss, and they’d ended up in the same position as she and Shane, only there had been no one to stop their party.
Hunter pushed END on his phone and gave her a brief look with those icy blue eyes. They still glimmered with anger. “I have to go.” He brushed past her and unlocked the door. “Someone needs me.”
***
Sally Rollins, Hunter’s patrol partner, waited for him behind an abandoned Shop Easy. She said she’d found something big on her slimy bastard boyfriend, Trent Farrow. He was also an RCMP officer, and he treated Sally like shit, which pissed Hunter off to no end. But Sally wouldn’t leave him yet because she was afraid it would jeopardize their investigation. Hunter had countered she was jeopardizing her health by staying with Trent. But she said if she skipped out on him now he’d be watching her big time.
And since her and Hunter’s investigation of Trent was not official, she didn’t want to risk him discovering their off-the-clock observations. Because if Trent did, he’d turn them over to the police chief without so much as a backward glance. Then he’d skip town and move his cocaine operation. Still, Hunter wished she could get away from the asshole.
She slid in the front seat of his black Intrepid and he asked, “What’ve you got on Trent?”
“First, coffee.” She handed him a steaming paper cup from Tim Hortons.
He noticed the ugly, purple bruise on her wrist when she did so. Hunter touched it gently and gave her a look of concern. “You’ve got to get away from that asshole.”
Sally sighed and stared through the dusty windshield. “Yes, I know, Hunter. We’ve discussed this before.” Her lips drew in a thin, pale line when she paused. “Soon as we bust Trent I get outta there.”
He shook his head, put his coffee in the cup holder on the side of the driver’s side door. “You can’t wait that long. For chrissakes, he’s hurting you again.” His hand brushed over her cheek and she finally looked at him.
“Once we bust his ass, he’ll never touch me again.” She smiled and folded her hand over his. Then she grabbed her bag from the floor of the car and pulled out a plastic baggie. “And we’ll be able to nail him much sooner than we thought.”
Hunter took the baggie she held up and inspected the fine, white powder inside. It wasn’t much, but it was definitely enough to nab somebody on a minor possession charge.
“There’s a lot more where that came from,” Sally told him as she took a manila folder out of her purse. She opened it up and showed Hunter t
he paperwork. Apparently Sally’s corrupt cop boyfriend owned another house near the outskirts of the city, in a rural area that was sparsely populated. “He’s using it as a warehouse to store the coke. I found boxes full of cat shaped piggy banks, only they aren’t piggy banks at all, if you get my meaning.”
Hunter gave her a wide smile. “So he wasn’t smart enough to hide his paper trail.” He once more scanned the papers that linked Trent to the house full of cocaine. “This is perfect!”
Sally smiled back at him. “Found this in our filing cabinet. Stupid bastard.” She sneered after referencing her soon to be ex. “Only problem is, since our investigation isn’t official, I can’t get a search warrant.”
Hunter stroked his smooth, hairless chin as he thought about this. “But if the police chief were to get an anonymous tip.” He tapped the papers in her lap. “And maybe these papers could mysteriously show up in his office.”
Sally’s smile grew mischievous. “Fayette, sometimes you’re almost brilliant.”
***
The house was dark when Hunter returned home. He padded softly across the crème carpet in the foyer, moved through the great room, and passed under the staircase that led to an indoor wraparound balcony. His bedroom was tucked just beneath the stairwell.
He opened the door and slipped inside the dark space, sighing a weary sigh as he did so. His thoughts drifted to Sally, to her no good boyfriend Trent Farrow.
At first, she’d made excuses for Trent. Those bruises on her face weren’t from his fingers. No, she’d slipped and banged her cheek on the kitchen sink. When he spotted ugly purple welts on her stomach one day, she’d tearfully confessed everything.
“I’m leaving him this weekend,” she’d promised. “And I’m pressing charges if he fucking touches me again.”
But two days later, Sally discovered Trent was trafficking cocaine through a network of corrupt cops. His was a lower end operation. A branch in a bigger drug trade run by a well known biker organization. Everything from cannabis to cocaine came up from Ontario, Quebec, and as far out west as British Columbia.
“My little sister Cassie told me,” she’d revealed to Hunter one afternoon, while they were sipping coffee in the patrol car. “She was there when Trent sold some coke to a kid from her science class. He’s cornered the high school crowd, the bastard.”
Concerned, Hunter had told her, “You need to get out of there now.”
She shook her head fiercely. “Are you kidding, Fayette? We need to bust his ass before I leave him. I go now, he might suspect something. You know Trent. He’s suspicious of everything and everyone.”
So they’d agreed she’d stay until they found concrete evidence of Trent’s trafficking, which they now had. Hunter decided, as he shucked his jeans and underwear and threw them into the hamper with his shirt, he’d insist Sally leave that sonofabitch as soon as they anonymously handed over their evidence to the police chief.
He sat on his bed and sighed, running a hand through his gelled spikes. That was when a soft, feminine voice made him jump.
“Hunter?” It was Mickie, sounding groggy. What was she doing sleeping in his bed?
Surprised, he reached for the bedside lamp and flicked it on. “What’re you doing in here?”
Mickie sat up, letting the blankets fall to her waist. She rubbed sleep from her eyes before she focused on him. “I wanted to talk to you, to apologize.”
The muscles in his back tensed. She knew he was naked, and it stirred warmth deep in her belly. She swallowed hard and tried not to think about it at the moment. All she wore were thin baby doll pajamas—a shorts and spaghetti strap top ensemble. Part of her wanted to curl her near naked body against his, but she stayed sitting beneath the blankets, watching his back ripple as he stood and walked toward the dresser. She was disappointed he wanted to put distance between them.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he finally grumbled.
She threw the covers off and swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. “Yes, there is. I’m so sorry you found me … and Shane that way. I …” She exhaled slowly and tried to ignore the memories that made her heart ache in that hollow way. “I thought you wouldn’t really care. I mean, four years ago, you were the one that left me.”
“There was no leaving to do,” he shot back, crossing her arms over his bare chest. It was at that moment he appeared to realize he was completely naked. Blushing, he quickly rummaged through the dresser and yanked on a pair of pajama pants.
“Don’t cover up on account of me,” she said, smirking.
He frowned and continued.”We weren’t together in the first place. You fucked me the night of my prom. End of story.”
His harsh, icy tone stung her. She stood and walked toward him, deciding it was now or never. Both twins had always had a sexual effect on her, but her feelings for Hunter ran deeper. But the day after they slept together he’d blown her off, acted cold and aloof. She’d been hurt, but he wouldn’t talk about it. He avoided her until he’d left for the police academy.
Now he would know the truth, whether he liked it or not. “I wanted more. I cared about you, but you pretended like the sex between us never happened.” She moved closer, pushing her chest against his. Her breasts partially spilled over the scalloped lace edges of her pajama top. “And if we meant nothing, why did you seem so pissed when you found me and Shane, hmmmm?”
His jaw clenched. Blue eyes flashed with anger as his lips thinned to a white line. Then he grabbed her arms just above the elbows and pulled her up on her tiptoes as he crushed his lips to hers.
Tongues darted across lips eagerly and sought out open, hungry mouths. It had been so long since they’d touched this way, and it was as if they’d been starving for one another. Mickie moaned as he slid his wide palms up the small of her back and pressed her pelvis to his. He ground his growing hardness against her crotch. Their thin, cotton pajamas were the only barrier between their lust.
His lips trailed from her mouth, sweeping lightly over her cheek before they nestled against her ear. “We shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t have done it then, either. You’re my sister…”
“Step sister,” she said, moments before his wet, hot tongue flit inside her ear. “We aren’t related.”
Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pajamas and her fingers twined in the nest of hair between his legs. He kissed her again, even hungrier. She moaned as his tongue invaded her mouth while he yanked her pajamas shorts down to her knees.
As they slammed into the dresser, she clung to his shoulders with both arms to steady herself. A box fell from atop it and the contents clattered to the floor. However, in the midst of their passion, the crash went ignored.
His tongue tickled the roof of her mouth while his knee nudged her legs apart. He rubbed her throbbing pussy with a hard muscled thigh, his smooth flesh sending shocks of pleasure through the tingling nub.
Her hand trailed down the plane of his stomach, seeking out the hard cock that swept over her belly. She coiled fingers around its thick, steely shaft and drew her grip upward. Her thumb traced a circle beneath the ridge, making him moan before he tore his mouth from hers.
He nipped his way along her collarbone, licked the valley between her breasts, then sucked and teased her nipples through the thin fabric of her top.
“Ummmm,” she groaned, burying her fingers in his lush, straight hair, pressing his face tight to her chest.
She smoothed the pad of her thumb over the soft, slick head of his penis. It trickled pre-cum over her fingers when she encased his glans in her grip. She used the slippery, white seed to lube up her strokes.
He growled out a groan and pushed her pajamas top up, exposing the white, rounded globes of her breasts. Then he lavished each breast with attention, kneading the satiny, pale flesh, pinching her hardened nipples. He rapidly flit his tongue over the aching tips then closed his mouth around one, sucking it until her aureole slipped between his lips.
She clutched h
im desperately now, letting out a shrill whimper of bliss. The sensation he stirred in her nipples shot a lightning bolt of desire straight to her cunt. It ached to be touched, also, and she couldn’t help but arch her hips toward him.
The warmth of his lips left her breasts and kissed a path to her belly button. He dipped his tongue into the center, making her squirm and gasp.
“Let’s see if I can lick your pussy better than my brother can,” he said, staring up at her with an intense look of lust.
His words sent a little thrill up her spine. But before his tongue could touch her clit, he glanced to the left, spied something on the floor, and chuckled.
“Wait just a minute.” He bent sideways while still holding onto her hip. His free hand slid across the carpet and scooped something up that shimmered metallic in the lamplight. “What do you say, Mickie?” He held up a pair of handcuffs that must’ve fallen out of the box they knocked over earlier. “Let me chain you to the bed and lick you all over.”
The heat of desire flooded her face and body with more warmth. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath as her stare riveted to the cuffs. Anticipation fluttered in her lower belly. She held out her wrists and grinned. “Why not? I’ll try anything once.”
He raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing. Instead he stood and, wearing a wolfish smile, scooped her up in his arms then carried her to the bed.
Mickie let out a little squeak of surprise as her feet left the floor. She circled his neck with her arms and pressed her palm against the back of his head, urging him closer for a kiss. Her tongue flit across his top lip, making him moan before his mouth fully claimed hers.
He placed her on the mattress, licking along her bottom lip before he ended the kiss completely. Then he pinned her with his knees pressed tight against her waist. Flashing a wicked smile, he ensnared her wrists and tugged them above her head. He held them against the bed railing with one hand.
A snicksnicksnick sounded as he opened the handcuffs. Cool metal touched her skin, making her gasp as he secured the first manacle. He looped the chain connecting the cuffs around one bed post then secured the second restraint around her other wrist.
Hard Rock Stepbrothers The Complete Series Page 2
