President Stepbrother...With Benefits: A Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance

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President Stepbrother...With Benefits: A Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance Page 22

by Victoria Cabot


  "What?!" I gasp again. This is getting too crazy. "Umm, Ian, we're not supposed to be drinking. Hello? It's only 5 pm!"

  "So?" Ian asks me, looking me in the eye. "You're hurting right, love?" he asks again.

  I can't say anything.

  "You're 21, last time I checked. Your birthday is one month and fifteen days after mine."

  I jerk and lift my head up to him. "How do you know when my birthday is?" I ask. Ian's acting very suspicious.

  "You're my sister," he says.

  "Stepsister," I correct him.

  "Whatever," he says. "Just fucking drink."

  Well, maybe he has a point. I could use a drink. And it won't be bad - just something to get the edge off. Plus, maybe he'll tell me why he's acting so crazy all of a sudden.

  I take the shot glass and we clink our glasses and Ian smiles. God, his smile is so dreamy. Like an angel, I think.

  Then I think of all the things Ian has done and I realize this would be like some kind of angel of death.

  I scowl at him and bring the glass to my mouth, taking the shot.

  Eww!

  I grimace as the alcohol goes down my body, burning my throat in the process. Ian's ready, and hands over to me a bottle of water. I drink it.

  "Why did you go beat up Ben?" I ask, once I've collected my breath.

  Ian's mixing a drink at the bar. He shrugs. "I didn't like how he treated you, Alicia," he says. He looks at me, but then looks away. My eyes are wide, watching him.

  "Besides," he says. "I never really liked that fucker and this gave me the perfect opportunity to go beat him to shit."

  "Ian, his dad called," I tell him gravely. "He said if you knew what was good for you that you'd stay away from Ben!"

  Ian looks at me and smirks. God I hate that smirk. "Worried about me now, are you, love?" he asks. God, I hate him too sometimes.

  No, make that all the time.

  What? Why are you looking at me like that?

  Okay, fine. Listen, I'm not that mad at Ian for beating up Ben. I mean, I don't approve of violence or anything. But Ben did some really bad things to me. It's hard to feel sympathy for him. On the other hand, it's not like Ian had any reason to go out of his way and beat Ben up. Did he do it for me?

  It's so confusing!

  Ian's still smirking at me, and I realize I've been staring at him. I blush and look down. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?" I say, not sure if I'm sounding mad.

  "When do I ever do stupid things, love?" Ian asks me, pouring us both another shot.

  "Uhmm," I say, with as much snark as I can manage as I take the shot glass and down the shot. Not so bad the second time around. "How about all the time?"

  My comment hits home and Ian puts a hand to his heart. "My own sister thinks I'm a retard," he says.

  I laugh, but correct him. "Stepsister."

  He smiles. God, he's so beautiful when he smiles. I can say that about him. There's nothing wrong in that.

  "Tell you what, love," he says to me, leaning on the bar counter. "I'm going to stay in tonight. Gonna cheer you up from your recent breakup."

  What? Really?

  "Why would you do that?" I'm all of a sudden suspicious. This isn't like Ian. Ian doesn't care about anyone or anything. Why would he want to stay in with me?

  "Because someone has to make sure you keep drinking," he says to me, pouring another shot and then putting another drink that he was mixing in front of me. "And make sure that you don't overdo it."

  I can handle about five shots before I start getting tipsy, so I'm still good. Besides, he does have a point. I've started laughing a little bit and I'm not thinking about Ben at all now.

  We do the third shot and I take a drink of what he made. It tastes amazing.

  "Can we order pizza?" I ask.

  Ian looks at me for a long moment and sighs.

  "Yes, love. We can get a fucking pizza." I immediately smile as he continues. "We can get that god awful pineapple crap you Americans love so much too, I reckon."

  Yay! Pizza! Four hours later, we're sitting in the family room, and I'm eating my heart’s content of Hawaiian Pineapple pizza - my favorite. Ian mixes another drink and I happily take it. He's put a straw in it, to make it easier for me.

  "So did he go down pretty hard?" I ask Ian when he sits down on the loveseat next to me. "Ben, I mean," I clarify.

  Ian shrugs. "He's a bit of a pussy, and proved it too if he ran to Daddy to call you."

  I giggle. I don't know why it's so funny. I'm looking at Ian's arms. They're so big and strong. His muscles literally bulge from his body. I know, I know. It's not like I'm doing anything either. I mean, I haven't had much to drink and Ian's been really good about pacing me.

  I haven't figured out why he's being so nice all of a sudden. But then again, I start to think of how much I know about Ian anyways. It's always been more what my friends said and what I heard from other people. By the time our parents got married when we were 13, I already sort of formed most of my opinions about him.

  Maybe I was wrong?

  It's only 9 pm, but I yawn.

  "Tired, love?" he asks me.

  I nod at him. Once I admit it, it feels like my body just gives up. My eyelids start to droop.

  "Come on, off to bed then," he says, taking the drink from my hand.

  I don't know why I do what I do, but the moment he comes up close to me, I wrap my hands around his neck.

  Ian pauses, and then he sighs. I can tell he's looking at me. My tank top is covering my boobs, but I can tell his eyes are glued to my chest. I don't know why though. No guy has ever been into my chest.

  "Do you want me to take you upstairs?" Ian asks.

  "Mm-hmm," I mumble, my eyes still closed.

  I wonder if he's going to kiss me. I get ready, preparing myself.

  But why would he? Ian's my stepbrother. Instead, he reaches over and wraps his arms around me, lifting me up like I was as light as a feather. I pull closer to his body and feel myself against his chest. He's big and strong and I feel safe, all of a sudden.

  He walks with me effortlessly through the first floor and up the stairs. When we get to my room, I know he's going to put me in bed, and then climb on top of me.

  During the four hours, I looked at his cock a few times. I know I wasn't supposed to! And it’s not like I stared at it all bug-eyed. I did some sneaky glances – like a spy. But it's just so big. And he was definitely hard. It's easy to tell through those board shorts he was wearing. I don't know how I feel, but I'm curious as to what it's going to be like.

  "Good night, love," he whispers.

  What? Ian didn't get in bed with me?

  I'm not sure whether to be disappointed that he didn't get on top of me, or surprised at how much of a gentleman he is.

  But I don't have much time to think because I fall asleep almost immediately.

  26

  Ian

  Fuck me. What the fuck was I doing? What the fucking fuck happened to the Ian Barrington I knew and what did I do with him?

  Give me a fucking break. Stay in tonight? On the first day that I arrived in the fucking Hamptons. While I was relatively free of the King's influence? Right after I had gotten out of my third year from the Academy?

  Eating Hawaiian pizza?

  If you're asking me if I'm normally like this, then I'll tell you to fuck off. I give fuck all about what you think. You saw me with that Ben Ebert wanker.

  But she was in pain. Almost about to fucking cry. I couldn't sit back and do absolutely nothing, okay? She needed some cheering up. A happy Alicia around the house means a lot less headache on my part. If her mom and my dad are really going to be gone for the next ten fucking days, then I don't need a mopey, sad little girl hanging around the house.

  Think about what if I bring some birds back home? No matter how much a slut a girl is, she's not going to spread her legs when one of her sisters is sitting there sad as fuck on that goddamn sofa.

  Okay? So don't
go having any ideas. I'm still a fucking major asshole that doesn't give a shit about anyone. I only care about my eleven-inch cock.

  I still can't believe that nerve of that fucking loser though to call my sister a fucking lousy lay to her face. I know she can be uptight. And I know she can be a royal pain in the ass - no pun intended. But Little Miss Prissy Perfect was still my sister. Okay, fine. Stepsister. If she was being told she wasn't good in the sack, then it probably wasn't her fault. It was the fault of whatever limp dick retard who wasn't doing things right.

  I get an idea and go online after carrying Alicia to bed.

  You think I'm this strong, silent, and kind Prince who the world misunderstands, don't you? Think you got me all figured out, don't you?

  Well, fuck you. I'll show you.

  I place an order and make sure that I go get it tomorrow.

  What is it? Cool your fucking horses, mate. You'll find out soon enough.

  I wake up the next morning bright and early. Yeah, I didn't go out last night and that means I went to sleep at a reasonable hour. Sobered up too.

  I decide it's time to start working out and head to the gym on the first floor of the house. That's the one change I asked for when Alicia's mom married my Dad and we began coming here for the summers. That we at least build out the fucking gym. I'm not going to get my workout doing yoga and meditating like some birds, thank you very much.

  The gym's all fitted out by now. There's free weights by the wall. There's a pull up machine. A place to bench. A section to do lunges. To work on my chest. A separate section to work on my abs and my shoulders and back.

  After the gym got installed, Alicia used it too. But she'd always make an excuse and leave every time I came in. She used the treadmill and the elliptical mostly, but after a while, I went and bought a stair climber and she seemed to like that.

  Worked out her ass, if I don't mind saying so, myself.

  What? You want to know how good her ass looked don't you?

  Let me just say that those yoga pants looked like wet tissue paper glued onto her ass. It got distracting.

  I know she's my stepsister, but it doesn't change the fact that she's fucking hot.

  And that's exactly what I need to get my mind off right now. I can't spend all summer walking around with a fucking hard-on for my sister - stepsibling or not.

  I hit the gym hard, working out and getting myself into a zen like trance as I bench press till I can't think straight.

  I love working out. It gives me the opportunity to clear my head. To relax and focus.

  Because for the last half day, my mind has been anything but focused.

  Sometime during my sets I'm aware of Alicia walking down the stairs and I notice that the front door opens. I don't want to, but I turn and see her out the window getting ready for a run herself.

  Good, I think. Keep that body nice and trim.

  What the fuck is going on with me? I seriously am blaming this all on you.

  She walks to the gate and I see her in a blue sports bra and black yoga pants. It's framing her legs and her ass real nice. Even her back, as much as I can see it is sexy.

  Fuck me. No, not you. Not her either.

  Just, fuck off, will you?

  I turn back and concentrate on my reps harder.

  I'm not normally like this. I can fucking compartmentalize. I have to. I'm a fucking Prince. Enough shit comes my way every day.

  Can you imagine the fucking scandal that would erupt if the tabloids got a hold of the fact that I was staring at my sister's ass? That I fucked up her ex-boyfriend. Well, I don't mind the first part. I'd take the scandal.

  It's not like we're blood related. We grew up together, sure, but we only came up as a family when we were 13. Before that, she was just the daughter of someone who worked for Dad. I saw her during lessons. The Palace had a set number of tutors for children of everyone who worked there. Call it an employee perk. Dad was all for it and he had instituted it when Mom died, so that I'd be a bit more grounded and not grow up in the lap of luxury. See how the other half lives.

  Didn't help that his definition of the other fucking half were the lords and ladies who formed his Cabinet.

  So I've known who she was even when she was growing up. Always the smartest fucking cookie in the jar. Always there with the right answer. While I was always the one getting in trouble. Always the one that was getting spoken to after class.

  I don't think she knew what to think of me. I really wanted to talk to her. I just didn't know how. I remember when she first came into class while we were having lessons. I was 8. I remember thinking she was the prettiest girl that ever I had fucking laid my goddamn eyes on. Most normal blokes would go up and tell a bird that they liked her. But not me. Not fucking me. What did I do instead? I remember I went up and lifted up the skirt of another girl when I knew that Alicia was watching. Why did I fucking do that, you're asking? Fuck if I know. All I know is I just wanted her to notice who I was.

  I'm benching close to 200 pounds here, thinking of Alicia, but eventually, my muscles are getting tired. After about three more sets, I decide that it's a pointless battle to not think about her.

  Instead, I shower off, and get in my car. I let Preston from security know I'm heading out. I'm getting the things I saw online and ordered yesterday. Right, I haven't told you what it is, have I?

  Well, I'm going into the city. You’ll see in the evening.

  I come back around 9 pm, having driven back from the city. I stopped on the way at the consulate and went over some boring paperwork. Yeah, I'm a responsible fuck when I have to be. Why are you looking at me like I've grown a second head? I’m a fucking prince of a country.

  Alicia is in her room, reading a book. Not an e-book. An honest to God real fucking book. She's concentrating and her nose scrunches up in her concentration. It looks too fucking cute.

  I clear my throat. She looks up. Is that a fucking smile on her lips?

  But she controls herself. "What do you want?" she asks, trying to sound annoyed, but I saw that smile. I smirk.

  "Here," I say, handing her a package. "Since there's no more Ben, it's something to get you through the long nights."

  She takes the package from me, and her eyes flash surprise. "You got me a present?" she asks dubiously.

  I shrug. "I figured it would help you, love."

  She opens it. It’s a set of two nipple clamps that give you a mild buzzing sensation when clamped onto nipples and a vibrator bullet. Only this vibrator bullet is controlled by a fucking wireless remote.

  "What the hell is this?" she asks, looking at it.

  I smirk. "Gives you all the pleasure you need, love, without having to deal with the man."

  "Ew, gross," she says, looking at me. "I'm your sister!"

  "Stepsister, love," I correct her. "And, listen, okay? You've been with this guy for what, 3 years? You're going to get lonely. And you don't want your body to make you go back to a relationship you know is shit."

  "Ian, this is so inappropriate!" she isn't having it. "This is like the most awkward thing you could have done!"

  "Oh really?" I ask, smirking at her. "So me looking out for you is now making you awkward?"

  "It's not making you feel weird?" she asks, her eyes widening. God she has such beautiful eyes.

  "Listen, love," I tell her, starting to get pissed off now that my gesture is just being thrown back at me. "Whether you realize it or not, you're going to need to have sex. Now, I know you're not the one to just casually sleep around with blokes, so this is the next best thing. I know you don't have a fucking vibrator."

  "How do you know that?" she asks, indignant.

  I give her the look. She tries to match my stare, but then looks down. "Okay, you're right. I don't. But I could have got this myself, you know?"

  "Oh yeah," I'm enjoying this now. "From where?"

  She sputters for a bit and I decide to leave her hanging. "I'm going out. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

&
nbsp; Shit. I didn't make plans to go out. Fucking hell. I was thinking I was going to spend the night with her. What the fuck was I thinking that for?

  I need to go find something in a skirt and fuck it. Soon.

  I grab my keys and head out the door.

  27

  Alicia

  I hear the door shut below and Ian ride off in his motorcycle and I tremble.

  Not because I'm grossed out. I should be, but all I can manage is a pathetic Ew. Gross. And that's only because you're watching.

  I'm not grossed out.

  I'm so incredibly wet. My panties might as well be melting off right now.

  I'm thinking about Ian, okay? How he thought enough about me in his messed up way.

  What is going on with him? He went over and beat up Ben. Because of me. He stayed in last night and spent the evening with me, making me laugh and forget all about Ben and being sad. For me.

  He went out to God knows where and bought me some pretty crazy sex toys.

  Okay, the last one is a bit out there, but Ian is completely out there. And when he's standing in my door, in a tight shirt that's showing off his rippling muscles and jeans where I can see the bulge in his crotch, it's a bit hard not to get turned on when I'm looking at nipple clamps and a vibrator.

  I've never had a vibrator before. In college, Ben wanted me to get waxed, and that's the farthest I've gone for him. At first, it was so painful! But I got used to it after a while and now it doesn't bother me anymore.

  I guess I've always sort of wanted a vibrator, but I was too embarrassed to go into a store on my own and buy it.

  And now Ian's bought one for me. Because he was worried about how I was going to get along without having sex with my boyfriend. Not having to have sex with Ben will probably make me feel a lot better than having sex with him, ironically.

  But there is someone I wish I could have sex with.

  Don't give me that look. Please. It's not like he's my real brother.

 

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