Hard Rock Stepbrothers The Complete Series

by Anita Lawless

  “You stay in the pool, I play with myself for you.” Slowly she untied her robe and slipped it open. “You can’t come out, can’t touch me, until I say so.”

  His grin widened, showing white teeth that glowed from the shining pool lights. “Maybe you’re not such a good girl after all. I like the way you think.”

  Sliding her hands down her exposed breasts, she said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Her nipples were already tingling something fierce from the crisp night air. Now she plucked at them and pinched the rosy tips between her fingers. The tingling grew almost painful and they stood stiff in the center of her pale, firm globes. She gripped one heavy, tear drop shaped breast and brought it to her lips, flicking her wet, warm tongue over its sensitive tip.

  From the water, she thought she heard Shane groan in appreciation.

  She gave a throaty giggle. “Like that?”

  “Oh yes.” His words came out guttural. “Very much.”

  She bit her bottom lip and hoped the look she shot him smoldered with as much desire as she felt. “Then you’ll love what comes next.”

  She took her time smoothing her hands down over torso, watching him all the time. Her heart pumped so hard it sounded like a stereo drum solo in her ears. She felt so wild and wanton, and she was thoroughly enjoying it.

  When Shane went to pull himself out of the water and approach, she stopped and shook a finger at him. “Nope, you can’t touch me yet. Be patient.”

  He moaned and slipped back in the water. She waited a moment longer, enjoying the view of his water beaded muscles, the way droplets clung to his long eye lashes. His hair was slicked back from his dive in the pool.

  He grew still in the water and her fingers continued their descent. She traced the edges of the thin strip of hair that ran up the center of her mound. Then she plucked her labia minora apart and tugged on them. He licked his lips and the water lightly slapped the side of the pool from his fidgeting.

  The cool air kissed her wetness and she shivered from the thrill. She ran a finger up and down her damp seam then focused on her clit, which now throbbed from the need to be stroked. She cooed as she caressed beneath her clitoral hood with fingers slickened by her juices.

  Once more, water splashed. Shane rose up out of the pool like some young, sexy Neptune ready to ravish her. She squeaked and jumped from the lounger.

  “Not yet!”

  “Ahhh, Mickie, come on!”

  She whirled to face him, snatching up her robe from near poolside as she did so. She held it over her nakedness and inched away from his approach. “You have to watch me come before you can touch me. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

  He huffed a disgusted sigh, sluiced a sheen of water from his chest. “You’ll get your way, won’t you?”

  She grinned and nodded. Her eyes glued to his thick, pinkish brown erection, slapping against the bottom of his stomach as he walked.

  “Fine.” He put his hands on his hips, stalked back to the pool. “But if you’re not done in ten minutes, I’m going to help you. And I won’t be stopped this time.”

  She poked her tongue out at him as she settled back in the lounger and spread her legs. His gaze glued to her curvy, naked form as she pleasured herself for both their enjoyment. Once more she spread her inner labia with one hand while she lubed up the fingers of her other with pussy juices.

  She stroked circles over her clit until her opening pulsed with the need to be penetrated. Then she plunged two fingers into her wet cunt while she pinched and rolled her clit between finger and thumb. She curled the fingers inside her clenching pussy and sought out her g-spot. She massaged this area and an intense warmth tightened her lower stomach, made her gasp in bliss.

  She rubbed her clit faster now, slid her fingers deeper, curled, and stroked. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she moaned loudly. The warmth built and spread throughout her pelvis, creating a pleasant pressure. It made her feel as if she had to pee, and that’s when she knew she was close to g-spot orgasm.

  Her clit throbbed with delicious fire. She lubed up the fingers stroking it with more wetness from her pussy and went back to work on the tingling bundle of nerves. She tapped it and rubbed it, ground her fingers into it to flame this erotic fire hotter.

  “Oh, yeeesss, baby,” she heard Shane say from close by, and it startled her. “Come for me.”

  She didn’t stop masturbating as water dripped from his skin onto hers while he watched up close.

  The climax burst deep inside her and she shrieked. Her muscles trembled and her stomach tightened even more. The walls of her pussy clamped down on her fingers and wetness gushed out of her. Some of her juices hit Shane’s chest and trickled over the fine hairs of his navel.

  He flashed white teeth in a lascivious grin. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot.” He dropped between her legs and began to nibble the soft flesh of her inner thigh. “Now I’m going to fuck you and make you come again and again.”

  Her chest heaved as she caught her breath. Fingers splayed over his shoulders as she pushed him back. “You have to go get a condom first.”

  “Oh, right!” He looked briefly annoyed at another delay, but stood and raced across the lawn to the house, shouting, “Be right back,” as he left.

  Giggling, Mickie scooted out of the lounger and picked up her robe. Once Shane was out of sight, she ran into the house and veered straight for her room. She locked the door and waited, snickering behind a hand drawn across her mouth.

  She counted to fifty before the knock came to her door. “Hey, what gives?” Shane sounded annoyed, to say the least.

  “Revenge, dear brother, is what gives,” she called in return.

  He pounded on the door, rattled the lock. “Why you little bitch…”

  She snorted laughter. “If you thought you weren’t getting in before, you sure as hell aren’t getting in now.”

  “Mickie!” Another series of loud raps.

  “Shhhhh, you’ll get the others out here,” she scolded close to the door. “And we’ve had enough drama for one morning. Now, I’m going to try and catch another hour of sleep before work. Night, Shane.”

  He mumbled curses through the door, and she tried to hold back her laughter until she was sure he’d left the hallway. Checkmate, dear brother, she thought. Have fun with your hand. Then she curled up under her goose down quilt and grimaced at the alarm clock. It would be blaring “wake up” in half an hour.

  ***

  After Hunter shut his bedroom door, Sally blurted, “Trent knows I found out about his cocaine stash. He confronted me about the missing papers.” She shivered and rubbed her bare arms. “I thought he was gonna kill me. I ran outta there without my stuff.”

  Hunter came closer and wrapped her in a reassuring hug. “You can borrow some stuff from my step sister later. Right now, let’s sit. Fill me in.”

  “Oh right.” She chuckled. “Like your step sister’s gonna lend me clothes after I ruined her night with you. Wait a minute, you’re sleeping with your step sister? Fayette, you kinky bastard.”

  Hunter waved her off. “I’ll get you some clothes. Don’t worry about it. Now, enough about my sex life. Let’s stay focused, huh?”

  He pointed to the bed and she sat on one corner. His partner looked absolutely exhausted, and he wondered when she’d last eaten. Dark circles ringed her eyes. She’d found out months ago her crooked cop boyfriend, Trent Farrow, was part of a corrupt RCMP cocaine trafficking ring. She and Hunter worked on the force as patrol partners, and recently Sally had discovered the house where her boyfriend and his cronies were storing their drugs. She’d shown Hunter the deed to the place, which proved Trent was the owner, and they’d made a plan to anonymously hand over the evidence to the police chief.

  “So I had to break into Chief Pritchard’s car,” Sally was saying, after she told Hunter how Trent chased her from the house. “Thank god Pritchard is old school and drives a beat up Ford with no a
larm, or I’ve been so screwed.”

  Hunter’s heart skipped a beat. “Shit, are you positive you didn’t leave fingerprints?”

  Sally remained calm. “Definitely. I wore gloves for everything, of course! And when I showed you the deed the other day, we only touched the folder it was in. Not the paper itself. I transferred the deed to a new folder.” She smiled proudly then, but the expression held a weariness that seemed to weigh down the corners of her lips.

  “That’s why you’re the brains of this operation.” He beamed at her and stroked her arm in a show of admiration. “But they could take glove prints.”

  “No worries. I disposed of the gloves I used and the leftover coke baggie, too. I transferred the coke to a vial. Then I left the house deed and the coke I found on the seat,” she finished explaining how she left the evidence in Chief Pritchard’s car. “Let’s just hope no one other than the chief looks in his car this morning.”

  “You should be working in forensics.” He winked at her.

  She preened appropriately, playing his game. They did this back and forth as patrol partners often. It was a great way to pass boring hours on foot or car patrol, wiling away time while they worked their way toward the homicide unit.

  But truth was Hunter did have deeper feelings for Sally. Maybe not in the same way he did Mickie, but then he’d never let himself see Sally that way, as a potential lover, because he knew she was in a relationship. Even if it was a terrible one. And he’d always concentrated more on being a friend to her through Trent’s bullshit than he did making moves on her. It just seemed inappropriate to Hunter, giving the circumstances. Like he’d be taking advantage of her.

  Now, though, if she’d be staying with him for a while, they would be spending even more time together. And if Mickie, his step sister, decided to go with his Lothario rock star brother…

  But Mickie said she wanted you, loved you, his mind taunted him. He argued back at himself, Not love, she didn’t say love, did she?

  Hunter shook his head and focused on the important situation at hand. “So what now? The evidence is planted. We’ve kept our fingers clean…” He got up, pacing as he often did when he planned. “I’d say our best way of playing this is to wait, see if we did in fact keep our fingers as clean as we think we did. Maybe one of us will get a call from Chief Pritchard this morning.”

  Sally shook her head, reached out and massaged his thigh through his jeans. “Oh, we’re clean. Our trail is spotless. Trust me, Fayette. You worry too much.”

  He smiled, thinking I hope you’re right, but he left his worry unspoken. It wasn’t that he doubted Sally’s skills in avoiding detection. She was an ace cop. It was that he feared the gnawing sense of doom growing in his gut.

  ***

  Mickie’s cell phone trilled out a mechanical tune ten seconds before her alarm clock blared. They dueled in a digital cacophony before she slapped the alarm with a loud thwack and answered the cell with a groggy, “Hello?”

  “Malloy? Where the hell are you?” There was no mistaking the cigar-scarred growl of her boss, Edward Monroe, editor in chief of the Saint John Gazette.

  “I’m in bed, boss.”

  “Well get out of bed, get yourself dressed, and be at the office in ten minutes.”

  As per his usual, he hung up before she could say “yes, boss,” or “goodbye.”

  She hopped in her cherry red PT Cruiser and arrived at the office in twelve minutes. Mr. Monroe scowled and tapped his watch when she entered.

  He was a tall, wiry man who’d always reminded Mickie of the actor Keith Carradine. His hair was the same dark blond now turned silvery, and he even had the same receding hairline. He pinned her with dark brown eyes as she sat in the chair opposite his desk.

  “I got you a lead on your story. You can thank me by taking me to lunch.”

  Her eyes widened. “The cop cocaine ring? I’m back on it?” Her heart slammed against her ribcage in anxious hope.

  Mr. Monroe popped a cigar in his mouth and gave a small smile around the fat stogie. “Yup, you’re back on it. I pulled you a favor with a friend over at the station. He’s gonna let you go undercover as his new secretary. You’ll have first crack at all the information on this case, but one catch: he gets first read of anything you write up, and he gets final approval of anything we plan to print.”

  Mickie chewed on a thumbnail while she chewed on this news. “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Monroe.” He waved off her gratitude before she added, “Who’s your friend?”

  “The Chief of Police.” He lit the end of his cigar and the smoky scent of blackberry filled the office. “Let’s just say I saved his life one time and he owes me a favor.”

  Mickie couldn’t contain herself. She leapt from the chair, threw her arms around her boss’ neck, and gave him the biggest hug as she gushed another “thank you.” The older man squawked, but he brusquely hugged her back and mumbled, “you’re welcome.”

  ***

  Sally’s cell phone chirped just as Hunter knocked on the guest bedroom door to see if she wanted breakfast. His fist paused and he listened. He had a pretty good idea who was on the other end. The bomb he’d expected was about to drop. He thought about knocking still and going in, but he knew Sally. She liked her privacy in tense situations like this. If he went in now, he’d only make things worse on her, so he waited and listened, feeling like a heel for lurking behind a closed door.

  “Hello?” She had a deep, sexy voice, but it trembled now like a timid little girl spoke. “Hey Chief. What’s up?”

  It was Sally’s day off, and the chief had enough officers scheduled for duty today he wouldn’t need her to come in. There could be only one reason Chief Pritchard was calling, and Hunter knew the reason all too well.

  She spoke in monosyllables now, and Hunter could barely hear her.

  “Uh-huh.” A lengthy silence. “Yes, I understand, sir. I’ll be at the station in half an hour.”

  Hunter waited a moment then knocked lightly.

  “Come in.” Sally sounded shaken, and his heart squeezed in his chest at the sound. A protective streak made him wish he could just scoop her in his arms and hug her tightly.

  When he entered she turned to face him, and she looked so forlorn he opened his arms to offer that hug. She practically ran into his embrace and clutched him tight for a moment. Then she pulled away, eyes shining with unshed tears. He knew Sally wouldn’t cry in front of him. She had a rule about that. She always cried alone. He’d told her she didn’t have to be so tough when she confessed that one. She’d told him it wasn’t a matter of being tough. She just hated people seeing her cry.

  “He knows,” she said. “He wants me in the office in half an hour.”

  Hunter wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You can ride with me.”

  “Then he’s gonna know we’re in on this together, or he’ll at least suspect something.” She looked up at him. “I can’t let you take the fall for this just cause of me.”

  He squeezed her shoulder, pulling her close to his side for a hug. “We’re friends, Rollins. It’s what friends do. Now how do you want your bacon?”

  ***

  They arrived at the station a little before seven-thirty. When Hunter walked in with Sally, Chief Pritchard was waiting outside his office door, arms crossed over his chest. He was just over forty but his hair had gone completely gray by the time he was thirty-two. Paired with his ice-blue eyes, it gave him a shrewd look that always made Hunter think of a calculating wolf. Always assessing the situation, always on guard, always ready for action.

  Hunter had seen the man tear the hide off of more than one patrol cop in his two years on the force. One poor passive bastard quit after a particularly nasty chew out that left him bawling in front of all his fellow officers.

  Pritchard had a minor pot belly going on, thanks to middle age. His thin shoulders were slumped from one too many hours poring over office work, but the man was still as sharp as they came.

  “Fayet
te, you can join Rollins in my office, too,” he said when they drew within a foot of him.

  Hunter’s stomach churned with sour bile, but he simply nodded and followed his partner. The sound of the door softly clicking shut behind them was like a knell of doom.

  Silence reigned as the chief walked around his desk. He barely glanced at them as he issued a curt command, “Sit down.”

  He pulled a manila folder from a top drawer in his sparse, modern desk. Sally’s eyes widened as she glanced at Hunter. His stomach churned as he glanced back, but he bluffed aloof calm. He avoided looking at the folder the chief pushed toward them. Sally avoided focusing on it too, he noted.

  “First question: Were you both in on this?” The chief’s mouth became a thin, white line as his penetrating gaze darted between them.

  Sally spoke first. “With all due respect, sir … both in on what?”

  Chief Pritchard gave her a disapproving “don’t bullshit me” sneer.

  She blinked, kept up the innocent look. Hunter wanted to smile in admiration of her cool bluff, but that would blow their cover.

  The Chief smiled then, possibly in a bit of admiration himself. “Okay, if that’s the way you wanna play it.” He opened his desk drawer again and pulled out another folder. “These are the fingerprint results from a house deed that mysteriously showed up on the seat of my car this morning. A small bag of coke was sitting on top of it.”

  Hunter wanted to swallow, wanted to grip his chair until his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t.

  The chief removed a paper from the second folder, and he did so with agonizing slowness. He continued. “You were good, Rollins. Real good. I’ll give you that. Only one fingerprint on a corner of the deed. One little fuck up gave you away.”

  Hunter watched her swallow hard, squirm just a bit in her seat. “How’d you find out it was me?”

  Now the chief gave the wolf smile. He tented his fingers beneath his chin. “When I couldn’t find the print in our records, I ran your file. Got a match.” Then he turned that icy gaze on Hunter. “And you were in on this with her, Fayette?”