Beast Brothers

by Stephanie Brother

  “Why the hell not?” Zoe says, her volume rising again. “You need to hit that — them, both of them — as much and as often as you can!”

  “Zoe, were you listening earlier? They’re going to be my stepbrothers.”

  She just makes a face and shakes her head, letting me know she thinks I’m crazy for raising objections. I look to Tara for support. She’s quiet, and looking thoughtful, but finally she says, “It’s just your parents getting married. You’re not related by blood.”

  “But it’s not appropriate,” I say.

  “Love knows no bounds!” Zoe says, as if quoting someone.

  “It’s not love,” I quickly interrupt, because that word makes me feel fluttery and a little panicky.

  Zoe throws up her hand. “You know what I mean. Love… sex… so long as you’re all consenting adults who are not actually related at all, no one should care or criticize you.”

  “Most people will not be so understanding,” I point out.

  “You’re not breaking any laws. Who cares what people think? People will be jealous, that’s all. Me for one,” Zoe says. “But I’m happy for you too,” she quickly adds.

  “Do you feel good when you’re with them, Megan?” Tara asks.

  Ecstatic, I think. As in amazing ecstasy. “I feel a lot of things with them,” I say. “Nervous, excited, sexy. But yes, they make me feel good. I like being with them.”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Zoe says.

  Tara’s face and voice get softer. “Did Jason make you feel like they do? I don’t mean now. I mean before you left him.”

  I hesitate for a moment and really think about it. Sometimes, I felt I had to be someone I’m not when I was with him. Sometimes I had to walk on eggshells so as not to put him in a mood. “No,” I finally say. “Not for a long time.” Cheating on me really was the best thing he ever did for me.

  “You deserve to be happy,” Tara says. Her heartfelt words and the touch of her hand on mine again have me fighting back tears. God, what is wrong with me lately?

  Zoe interrupts the moment, saving me from ruining my makeup with waterworks. “Let’s go get the stuff from your car — for real this time! — and then we’re taking you out for retail therapy.”

  “No shopping for me,” I say. I need a job first.”

  “Our treat,” Tara insists. “I’m sorry for the reasons you’re back in town, but I’m really glad you’re here, and I want to celebrate. Besides, you deserve some cheering up.”

  “I think Cody and Brock cheered her up just fine last night, but I agree. Let’s go shopping. You need a fresh start,” Zoe says. “I have my employee discount at the shop. Let’s go there. It’ll be my belated birthday present to you.”

  “You sent me a gift last month,” I remind her, but Zoe raises her hand again to stop my protests.

  “We’ll get started on your Christmas gift, then,” she says.

  Tara and Zoe leave their cars in the restaurant’s big parking lot and ride with me in Dad’s truck to the garage. The mechanics don’t have much to report yet, but assure me that they’ll be in touch on Monday. My friends help me transfer my things to the truck, and then I drive us to the exclusive little boutique where Zoe works.

  As I catch up on their lives and we make plans for future outings — new movie releases, new stores and restaurants that have opened since I’ve moved away — it dawns on me that my life in Omaha was all wrapped up in Jason. Everything was always about him, his teammates, and their wives and girlfriends ... all of whom have now abandoned me in favor of that cheating snake. Being back home and having a genuine support network makes me realize what I’ve been missing.

  I feel a little out of place at the boutique. I’m more a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl, but Tara and Zoe insist on making me try on a bunch of clothes — just for fun, they say. When I try to look at price tags, Zoe reminds me of her employee discount and tells me to be quiet. The three of us giggle together, and it’s just like old times, only with fancier clothing.

  After trying on several items, I come to a little purple dress with a zipper in the back. It fits so snugly that I can’t get it zipped on my own.

  “Hey, can you help with this?” I say as I step out of the fitting room. “I don’t think it’s the right size though.”

  Tara steps up to help, while Zoe surveys me from the front. “That’s the one!” she says. “Don’t even bother with the rest of them.”

  I’m skeptical, the dress hugging me much more tightly than any of my clothes. “It doesn’t fit,” I tell her. I’m not crazy about the color either; nothing in my wardrobe is purple.

  Zoe steers me to the full length mirror and steps back.

  “Oh, yes,” Tara says, taking in the reflected view.

  The little scrap of fabric doesn’t extend very far down onto my thighs. It hugs my waist and pushes my breasts up high, so that they’re nearly spilling from the neckline.

  “I can’t wear this,” I say, though I have to admit my body looks pretty great in it. And the purple does unexpectedly nice things for my coloring, making my auburn hair seem more vibrant.

  “That,” Zoe says, “is the perfect outfit for getting back in the saddle, on those big, big horses that you know you want to ride.”

  “Zoe!” I hiss.

  “Megan, Zoe’s right. You have to get that dress. It was made for you,” Tara says.

  I look at it a moment longer, trying to see it through their eyes, then I imagine Brock and Cody’s reaction. Yeah, maybe it would be fun to wear this dress when I’m with them and see what happens.

  I change back into my own clothes and bring the stack of things I’d tried on out with me. Zoe pulls the dress, a blouse, and a skirt out and insists on getting all three items.

  “Take these up front and wait for me. I’ll be right there,” she instructs us. She disappears toward the back of the store, where I assume she’s talking to a coworker. Before Tara and I reach the register, though, Zoe reappears with small scraps of fabric in her hands.

  “You’re getting these too,” she says. She holds them up for me — a bra and panty set, barely there, sheer, and leopard-patterned. They are edged in black lace, and they’re very, very naughty.

  I pause for a moment, staring, and I know Zoe expects me to protest. Instead, I decide to embrace the wild side. “Those will be perfect to wear to the stable,” I say. “When I go get back on the horse … or the Beasts!” We all dissolve into laughter.

  As I’m driving us back to the restaurant parking lot, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I’ve learned my lesson from the accident, so I wait to answer it. I find myself hoping it’s Brock and Cody contacting me. Sure enough, when I arrive I see a text from the Rockin’ Ride Service.

  Save All the Bad For Us

  Megan

  How are you doing today? the message reads.

  I can’t help but smile as I reply: I’m great. Spending the day with friends. How’re you? Ready for the game?

  I’m not sure if I’m texting Brock or Cody, or both of them.

  We’re ready. Will you be there?

  Wouldn’t miss it for anything.

  Until tomorrow, Megalicious, comes the reply.

  Tara and Zoe see me grinning like a fool. “Message from your new friends?” Tara asks.

  I nod my head and feel a big bubble of happiness rising within me.

  I stop to get tequila, mixers and snacks on the way home, and Tara and Zoe meet me there around dinnertime. We order a pizza, make popcorn, and settle in for a Die Hard double feature — the original with the best movie villain ever, and then the most recent movie in the franchise. It’s a great evening spent on Dad’s comfy furniture, watching his ginormous flat screen, enjoying the company of my two best friends in the world. For a few hours, I forget all my cares.

  After Tara and Zoe leave, I’m feeling a warm glow both from their company and the margaritas I drank. I can’t resist messaging the twins as I sit cross-legged on my bed before I go to sleep. I know b
y now the players are all holed up in a hotel; even though this is a home game, it’s better logistically and psychologically for everyone to be together the night before, and leave for the game from a single location in the morning.

  I’ll be thinking about you both tomorrow, I send.

  The answer comes in seconds. We’ll be thinking about you too — every time we push through a tight hole or give someone a pounding.

  It makes me grin and shake my head, but I get a tingling sensation between my legs. Sleep well.

  I’d sleep a lot better if you were here … once we got done not sleeping at all, that is.

  I get a funny feeling in my chest, even as I get more tingly. Is this Brock or Cody? I ask. Not that it matters, really, but I find myself wanting to know.

  It’s Brock.

  I’m never quite sure, I write.

  I’ll add you to Cody’s phone, but I like keeping you off balance. Off balance, bent over, spread wide …

  Brock!

  Go to sleep now, and dream about us.

  The tingly feelings intensify even more and spread to multiple specific areas, making me crave what I can’t have. Time for my battery-operated boyfriend, I tell him, and I’m not really kidding — he’s got me so worked up now I don’t see how I’ll sleep.

  Don’t you dare, comes the immediate answer. We’re going to take care of you, Megalicious.

  He wants me to store up all my erotic energy for them? I don’t blame him, but I hope we’re all prepared for the consequences. Fine. I’m going to bed now. Needy and unsatisfied.

  One more text like that and we’re going to bust out of this hotel and come to get you.

  He means it; I know he does. It sends a thrill through me, but if I push him too far and he and Cody follow through, they’ll be exhausted during the game. It would be very gratifying on a personal level, but I can’t do that to the team. I’ll be good.

  Save all the bad for us, babe. See you tomorrow.

  Good night.

  Night.

  I don’t want to stop texting. I’m like an infatuated teenager. No, strike that: I am infatuated, full stop. With both of them.

  I could fall for these guys if I’m not careful. Which is stupid, because all they’re doing is helping me get over Jason. It’s way too soon for me to be having feelings for anyone, and it’s completely ridiculous even apart from that.

  This is just a fling, and then they’re going to go on with their NFL lives and sleep with a gazillion more women. Eventually, they’ll find wives and settle down and have families, and I’ll do … whatever I do.

  I hope someday I’ll meet someone I can love, and trust, and spend a lifetime with. But it can’t be Brock or Cody.

  Ignoring the pang in my heart, and how sharp it is, I turn off the lamp on my nightstand, settle down under the covers, and will myself to sleep.

  Hey Megasexy

  Megan

  Game days start extremely early at a head coach’s house. I rise at the crack of dawn and ride to the stadium with my dad. Once there, he disappears into pre-game preparations, and I wander around to see what’s changed since the last time I was here.

  I run into a lot of people involved with the team that I haven’t seen in a few years, and the hours pass quickly. Before long, the stands are packed. Tara and Zoe join me before the kickoff, and we settle in to enjoy the game. The Leopards are favored to win, the fans are in a frenzy, and it’s a beautiful day for football.

  Brock and Cody are in for most of the game, and my eyes are always drawn to them. Even with them wearing helmets and padding, I find them easily on every play they’re in, without needing to look for their numbers. From the comments my friends make, I know they’re keeping their eyes on the brothers too.

  The twins are both intense players, extremely focused — and their gameplay reminds me of what it was like to have their attention focused on me. I squirm a little in my seat, the delicious thought crossing my mind that they’ve all but promised we’ll be together again. I wonder when, and how, and whether it will require me sneaking out my window.

  I need to get a job fast, and get my own place.

  The Leopards give their fans a lot to cheer about, and I find myself trying to be careful not to cheer too conspicuously for Brock and Cody. All told, Brock makes two touchdowns and Cody is responsible for two interceptions. They are the star players, but we’re in a seating section reserved for team families, and I don’t want to get caught showing favoritism.

  Partway through the game, I notice that Vivian is several rows above me, huddled in close to another woman about her age. In the final moments of the game, with the Leopards’ win a foregone conclusion, my stepmother-to-be shows up at my side.

  “Enjoying the game, dear?” Her cloying tone nearly ruins my happiness at our win.

  “Of course,” I reply, determined to be an adult, to be civil to her. I may never like her, but if she really is going to be with Dad — if she really does make him happy — then I can at least be courteous.

  I introduce Tara and Zoe, who masterfully show no sign that they’ve already heard all about Vivian from me. After a few minutes of chitchat, Vivian says, “Your father and I are going out to eat once he’s done with the media. Would you girls like to join us?”

  I’m surprised, but pleased, that she includes my friends. I don’t know if the guys will be there, but having my besties at my side will be awesome. Dad knows them both, and they’ll be able to do their own assessments of Vivian. And if the twins do show … even better.

  “Sounds great,” I tell her, complete with a genuine smile.

  “Wonderful.” She pats me on the shoulder, and I don’t even flinch. “See you there.”

  “Okay,” I say cheerfully, and when she moves away I go for my phone. I’m about to text Brock and Cody about lunch when I notice that there’s a new text message from earlier today that I missed.

  It’s from a new number, but I don’t have to wonder who it is, because the text says, Hey Megasexy. Can’t wait to show you our moves.

  “Which one is that?” Zoe asks, not at all shy about reading over my shoulder.

  “Cody,” I tell her. Grinning, I save the new contact as Big Cat Wildlife, then message back. Lunch with Dad and Vivian — you guys coming?

  I know he can’t answer me right away. Right now the players are going through their post-game routine of showering, changing, and talking to reporters. It’ll be the better part of an hour before they’re free. I could go to the restaurant early with Zoe and Tara if I knew which one we were eating at, but of course Vivian didn’t mention that little detail.

  There’s a nip in the air, so I huddle into my coat and take a deep breath. I love autumn, and not just because it’s football season. There’s a brief, pleasant silence, and then Zoe says, “Megasexy?”

  “Shut up,” I say, bumping her shoulder teasingly with mine.

  “Do they call you that all the time?” Tara asks, her eyes sparkling.

  I blush, but I can’t help smiling. “I think their favorite one is Megalicious.”

  “Ooooh!” they both say, and we bust up giggling.

  In what feels like no time, my phone signals an incoming message. Wouldn’t miss it. See you there. “They’re coming to lunch,” I whisper to my friends, being instinctively secretive just in case anyone is nearby.

  “Hot damn,” Zoe says. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Life’s Too Short to Drive Slow

  Cody

  Riding a post-game high is great. Looking forward to riding Megan is even better.

  Brock and I have been wrapped up in the game — preparation and execution — but now that it’s over, I know we both have one thought on our minds. Getting our coach’s sweet, sexy, feisty daughter into bed and blowing her mind with pleasure.

  It’ll be our pleasure too, of course, and if Friday night was any indication, she’ll be the hottest thing we’ve ever nailed. But it’s more than that. She deserves to be treated w
ell after what that asshole, Jason whatever-his-name-is, did to her — and my brother and I know how to treat women well, in bed and out.

  Maglioni’s is the best Italian place in town. When we get there, I’m surprised to see that Megan has two other women with her, a cute little brunette and a blonde bombshell. They’re both good looking, but I only have eyes for our megalicious lady as we reach their enormous corner booth.

  I’m glad to see her spending time with her friends, but I’m a little annoyed that they’re sitting on either side of her, where Brock and I want to be. It’s probably for the best, though — I don’t think we could keep our hands off her.

  We slide in on our mom’s side. “Hi Mom — hi, Coach,” I greet them, and Brock does the same before we look across to the other side of the table.

  “Guys, these are my friends Tara and Zoe,” Megan says. From the way the two women are smiling and eyeing us, they’re either big football fans or Megan’s been talking about us.

  Under other circumstances, Brock and I might test the waters to see if all three of them wanted to join us for some fun times later. But I don’t think that’s Megan’s style … and I find myself not wanting to share her with anyone.

  Except Brock, of course. It may seem weird to people, but we’ve always been close, like two parts of one person. Sharing a woman isn’t some kinky thrill; it just comes naturally to us.

  “Good game,” Megan says, and I grin at her.

  “Thanks, Mega ...n.” Damn, I almost called her one of our nicknames. She widens her eyes at me, and her friends totally lose it, stifling their giggles.

  “Something funny?” Coach says. He looks suspicious and grouchy, which is not a mood he should be in after a big victory. I decide it’s time for a quick change of topic.

  “I should have had three interceptions today,” I say. It works like a charm; he can’t help launching into a debrief of the game. Brock and I supply him with a stream of comments and questions to keep him going.