Step Trouble
Page 1
Table of Contents
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Part II
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Step Trouble: A Stepbrother Romance
MisSteps
Leanne Brice
Copyright © 2017 by Leanne Brice
All Rights Reserved.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permission requests, contact authorleanne@gmail.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Edition: December 2017
Contents
Synopsis
Author’s Note
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Part II
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
EXCERPT
About the Author
Also by Leanne Brice
Mailing List
Synopsis
EMMA - I’m used to living hard and fast, with everyone expecting nothing but trouble from me. But everything changed after hooking up with Danny Masters for what was supposed to be a one-night stand. Then I found out he’s the son of my dad’s new fiancée! Did I mention I’m a magnet for trouble?
DANNY - Once my dad died, I inherited his company and made a name for myself in the business world. Things have been looking up—that is, until I slept with the daughter of my future stepdad! I knew that girl was trouble when I first saw her. I had no idea how much I was really in for…
**A safe romance with NO cheating, NO cliffhangers, lots of sexy times, and, of course, an HEA!**
Author’s Note
This work is pure fantasy. Unrealistic parts? You betcha! :)
Neither the author nor publisher approves of or recommends behavior carried out by these fictional characters in these imagined worlds, and some realistic concerns, such as pregnancy and STDs, will only be mentioned if they are relevant to the story.
Basically, this book is for entertainment purposes only and is intended for mature audiences.
Thanks for reading! :)
- Leanne
Part I
TROUBLE
Chapter 1
FRIDAY NIGHT
How sad is this?
Third day in a row I’m in my apartment sipping wine all by myself, gazing longingly at the busy night streets of Manhattan.
Okay, not sipping exactly—I definitely threw back my first glass pretty quickly.
Not that I’m a lush or anything—I only drink a few times during the week and on Saturdays.
I usually find someone to go out with on weekends, but this week is a bust so far, and I’m sick of staying inside tonight—it’s Friday night, for crying out loud!
I get excited when my phone buzzes, thinking for a split second it’s someone checking to see if I’m up for a last-minute soirée or so, but I see it’s just my old BFF, Becca, and I almost don’t want to read the text—I already know it’s not an invitation to a club or comedy show or concert; she probably just put her new kid to sleep or something.
But silly me—I check anyway, and yup, it’s yet another photo of her baby.
Look, I get it—babies are new and exciting and can be stinking cute, but this is, like, the five thousandth picture already. He’s barely two months! And I honestly don’t see what distinguishes this pic from many of the others; he’s just sleeping, for crying out loud.
So adorbs! I text back with a heart eyes emoji, appreciating that Becca gave me the final kick I needed to get the fuck out of here tonight. I’m having some fun, one way or another.
I’d rather venture out by myself for adventure than sit inside until my turn to send a billion baby pics comes.
I actually laugh out loud at that one.
I don’t actually see myself settling down anytime soon and popping out babies, but I accept it’ll probably happen sometime in the future.
But for Christ’s sake, I’m twenty-four!
I get myself ready, shove my phone in my purse, and then grab my coat and head out.
What the hell was I thinking?
I never go to bars alone, and I just remembered why.
There is safety in a pack, comfort in a group—or even just a pair or trio.
Stepping into a place like this all by myself—it’s like I walked into a den of starving wolves wearing a raw meat dress.
I don’t even look like Skank Central or anything—no skintight dress so short it almost flashes my twat, my boobs aren’t spilling out of this super casual top, and my ass and legs are fully covered in this pair of fitted, washed-out jeans.
Part of me wants to accept all the drinks being offered, but being alone and drunk off my ass, surrounded by a bunch of pissed off dudes who feel used for their ability to buy drinks is just asking for trouble.
Not to mention hopping into a taxi impaired, wobbling into my grungy apartment building that hobos sometimes find their way inside…way too many opportunities for things to go horribly wrong.
Plus, my dad lives a hundred miles away in upstate New York, my mom’s in a grave, and lucky me, I’m an only child who moved to this place just months ago—I don’t have easy access to backup in case I’m in distress.
I shake my head, shocked at my thoughts.
What the hell?
Guess I’m maturing after all; I never thought about all these little details before.
Is adulting all about paranoia? Or is this actually responsibility?
Bleh.
I guess the good news is that I get to see my dad pretty soon. Oh, and meet his new fiancée.
Double bleh!
I plaster on yet another smile for the latest hopeful—a chubby guy in his thirties or so who clearly had too much to drink himself.
“I really appreciate the offer, but I’m actually waiting for someone,” I lie. “And I’d prefer to get tipsy after they get here. Feel free to offer then!”
The dude gives me a sort of restrained, grumpy expression—as if he knows he’s getting the brush-off, but because it was sort of open-ended, he might still have a chance so he won’t blow it by saying something stupid.
I learned pretty quickly—just saying no means you’re likely to be called “bitch” or “cunt” or whatever takes you down in their eyes as they recover from the sting of rejection.
“You look like you need a Long Island Iced Tea,” a smooth masculine voice says close to my ear, sending a tingle from my ear to my core, jolting it awake.
The rich texture of the voice throws me for a moment, so I react a half-second later than usual as I turn to rejec
t the offer.
But the rejection dies on my tongue as my eyes lock with the owner of that delicious tenor.
My pussy throbs with growing interest.
This guy is unusually good-looking for a place like this; in fact, there’s something off about him I can’t quite put my finger on.
He’s dressed well, ridiculously handsome, and looks well-built underneath those barely worn-looking clothes—it looks like he just grabbed them off the rack before coming here.
Meanwhile, my clothes look like they’ve been with me for quite some time. Which they have.
This guy looks too clean in a way—his thick, dark hair is sharply cut and his outfit isn’t quite right for a bar.
But who cares when he’s that hot, with those hazel-green eyes of his staring at me like that?
I’m suddenly hyper-aware of how long it’s been since I’ve had a good romp.
I’ve been traveling cross-country a lot, which technically provides a lot of opportunities in that area, but in reality, I don’t exactly run into prime pickings while chugging along from one place to the next.
So this is an opportunity I can’t let slip by—especially since I drive to my dad’s tomorrow to meet my future stepmother.
My dad will, no doubt, give me that disappointed look of his, tinged with guilt, while silently begging me to get back on a normal path. As usual, I’ll bide my time, bite my tongue, and we’ll eventually say our niceties and part.
All the while, I will have been comforting myself with the memories of the night I hope to have with this hazel-eyed hottie, reliving the feel of him moving inside me to help get me through the ordeal.
“I accept your offer,” I say with a smile.
He smiles back, and I notice his teeth are killer—well taken care of.
Who is this guy?
You know what? I don’t even need to know.
The more I know about him, the more likely I’ll end up disappointed about one thing or another and I need a fantasy right now.
He orders my drink and his—a bourbon. Neat.
“So what’s your name?” he asks.
“Call me Cara,” I say, “but it’s not my real name. And don’t tell me yours—we don’t need to know much more about each other than we do right now…except for what we look and feel like outside of these clothes.”
His eyebrows raise a bit but he says nothing, regarding me studiously.
“My place is a few blocks away,” I say. “Are you driving or are we sharing a taxi there?”
He kind of chuckles to himself—no doubt, a bit thrown by my forwardness.
But this is my year of living adventurously, damn it, and for all the shit I’ve done so far, believe it or not, I’ve never had a one-night stand—#5 on my bucket list, and this guy is the perfect candidate for it.
Plus, I have the irresistible urge to muss him up—he seems too…proper, in a way.
I keep ignoring the voice inside me asking, Who is this guy? Really? But no matter how curious I am, answering any questions I have might make me way more invested than I need to be, and I’ve surmised I need to remain as detached as possible to make this casual fling work.
I eye-fuck him for a minute while I sip my drink—just enough time to keep my excitement going and build a bit more anticipation as I take in his chiseled jawline, the openness in his gorgeous eyes. Plot how to mess him up before we get down and dirty.
I can’t wait to see this neat, tidy masculine specimen stripped down to the animal basics; I can’t wait to see what his cock looks like.
Is it eight inches or ten?
Does it lean to the left a little? To the right?
“Ready to get out of here?” I say after finishing my cocktail. The longer I stay here, the more likely I’ll lose my nerve.
He pays for our drinks and we head outside to catch a taxi.
I like that he’s going along with my suggestion and not asking questions, and the way that he’s gone quiet excites me even more because, even though he knows it’s a done deal with me, he’s not really taking me for granted.
He’s staring me down intensely as the taxi darts along, as if he’s calculating, guessing, crunching whatever information I’ve provided on the surface.
It makes me tingle even more that he’s paying so much attention to me, and my core gets warmer and slicker.
I practically drag him up to my unit till he’s flying behind me after we exit the taxi, except that’s impossible because he’s about a foot taller than me and far heavier.
He’s solidly on my heels, however, and the way his energy has shifted has me second-guessing my decision.
I realize I don’t know this guy at all and yet I’m bringing him into my most intimate spaces in every possible way.
My pussy throbs even more, making me giggle as I open my door; I’m excited beyond belief at my wanton actions.
He closes and locks the door behind us, his eyes almost unrecognizable as they’ve gone from open curiosity and studious interest to animalistic intent.
“You’re so fucking hot,” leaves my mouth before I can stop it, and the slight quirk of his lips does nothing to soften the sudden lust-filled intensity of his face.
I start pulling my top off, and before I’ve gotten it over my head, I find myself suddenly off-balance.
I realize I’ve been picked up and tossed over his firm shoulder like a meat sack.
I’m a bit alarmed since I’m suddenly no longer in any sort of control—I’m draped over the shoulder over a strong stranger with my arms trapped in my top, my face covered by the cloth so I can’t really see anything.
I can safely assume he’s headed to my bedroom—there aren’t exactly a ton of other options in this seven-hundred square foot one-bedroom apartment of mine.
Just as panic starts to bloom inside me, he puts me down and yanks my top the rest of the way off.
He glances pointedly at my bra, and I understand the wordless command, reaching behind me to unhook the fabric keeping my breasts from his view while he works his own shirt off.
My breasts bounce loose and I toss the bra aside, my eyes on him as my nipples start to handle.
I smile and shake my tits a bit and his grin widens appreciatively.
The magnificence of his upper torso is revealed as his shirt is discarded, and my eyes travel his sculpted, masculine form—from his firm chest and rippling abs to his muscular arms.
He pulls me to him, and for a moment, I savor the delicious feel of my soft, feminine body pressed against his hard, masculine warmth.
Then another hardness registers, making my pussy throb again, my nether lips getting even slicker.
His hands go to the fasteners of my jeans and he helps me out of them with lightning speed, my panties down with them.
I kick the final pieces of clothing away, completely naked while he stands there in his black slacks, boldly taking in my nudity.
His hands start roaming my body, beginning with cupping and fondling my breasts, his thumb sliding over my sensitive, taut nipples and sending a tingle of electricity from those tightened buds straight to my cleft.
His large hands slide down to my waist, then to my ass cheeks, and he grabs and squeezes them like new toys.
Then one of his hands makes its way between my legs, and he gently explores my tingling pussy, a graze of my clit making me jump.
He smiles again before sliding a finger between my lower lips, picking up my wetness and teasing my folds a bit, making me moan with need.
Then he breaches my opening with the tip of his finger, causing a loud sort of sigh to escape me as my head falls back.
I want his cock now more than ever—his finger is a torturous tease.
He pumps it in and out a few times, then withdraws his finger and licks it, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Get on the bed,” he says in a deep, commanding voice—the kind you immediately obey. “On your back, knees bent, legs spread. I want to see that beautiful pussy of yours.�
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I don’t know when he seized all the power and I don’t care—I just want him to join me as soon as possible; I want his cock inside me!
He starts working his pants down, his eyes now on my exposed cleft as I lie there waiting for him.
I slide a hand between my legs and start playing with my petals while he watches, my own eyes stuck on the sizable bulge in his underwear.
He steps out of his pooled pants, kicking them aside then moves closer to me.
But instead of climbing over me, he stands near the head of the bed, then pulls his underwear down, his huge cock springing into view.
I’m pretty sure my mouth actually drops open, which is a good thing, because it’s about ready when he says, “Suck it.”
He bends his cock toward my mouth and I take it in, getting a good hold on the tip and teasing the underside with my tongue a bit, which gets me a masculine groan.
I take more of him in, the hand teasing my pussy leaving to grip his thick shaft as I start to bob my head over his massive dick.
I’m desperately horny and getting more insane with need by the second as I suck his engorged cock.
A moan of need escapes me, eliciting another masculine groan from him, and the next thing I know, his cock is gone from my mouth and he has maneuvered himself on top of me, planting himself firmly between my legs.
He bends to suck my breasts for a moment, making me lean my head back in acceptance of the quiet pleasure of his warm lips on my sensitive flesh, and then I feel him teasing between my legs.
His cock rubs my folds, dragging out my torture longer, but then the head of his dick finds my drenched hole and he plunges into me with one hard stroke.