My Stepbrother the Rock Star (Men of Midnight Dreams Book 2)

by Alexandra Ainsworth

  His balls are perfect and symmetrical and bare, and I move my mouth to them. He groans as I lick them, and I massage his firm butt with my hands. I move to his rigid shaft, rock hard, but still velvety beneath my fingers.

  His legs flail. I lick his shaft, and he goes almost insane when I tongue his head and take him into my mouth. His pre-cum is salty. I tighten my suction, and I know how good he is feeling. His hand finds mine, and he clutches it.

  “Alec . . .” His voice thickens, more husky than before. “I’m going to—”

  I smile. If he thinks I’m going to loosen my grip on him, he’s crazy. I take more of him into my mouth, keeping my strokes firm and wet, and my hand glides over his body.

  And then his back arches, his breath halts, and hot liquid flows from him.

  “God!” he moans, and his hand brushes against my cheek. When I glance up, his eyes have a stunned look in them.

  I crawl up beside him and wrap him in my arms. He slides into them eagerly, and I feel a twinge of sadness that he’s never experienced this with a man before. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t do anything to harm him. I grew up poor, I know what it’s like to be unhappy, saw too many of our neighbors distraught, and I don’t want to do anything that could harm him.

  It doesn’t matter that he’s rich and successful now. He still deserves happiness just as much as anyone. I hate that my father will probably be the one to take that away from him. Nobody likes being forced out of the closet. I’ve listened to too many gay people obsess over the prospect of coming out during my university’s gay-straight alliance meetings, and I can only imagine what it must be like with journalists and paparazzi standing by in the hopes of finding a sordid story.

  I clasp him tighter to me. I want to protect him from all that. I want to be his safe haven.

  “Can I?” His hand touches my shaft, and I smile at the thought that he wants me to feel good, that he’s not forgetting about me.

  I offer him a smile, and his eyebrows furrow into an adorable expression. He holds my shaft with his hand, and his teeth bite his lower lip. His cheeks still have a rosy glow from his orgasm, and a sheen of sweat makes his skin glisten. His blond locks are more tousled than normal, but he’s every bit as handsome as he always is.

  He slides onto his stomach and positions himself between my legs. He rests his head on my thigh and gazes up at my cock.

  I’ve never been so hard.

  The sight of Ezra beside it is so hot. I’ve lived with the man for weeks, been in a near constant state of desire since we met, no matter how standoffish and unfriendly I tried to appear. I’ve imagined him doing this more times than I like to count, and my cock jerks as Ezra’s sweet warm breath brushes against it. His lips, swollen from our earlier kisses, are tantalizingly close, and my fingers clench in anticipation and hope and desire.

  His chest expands as he sucks in a breath of air. His hand quivers, and my stomach plummets.

  “You don’t have to do anything,” I say quickly.

  His mouth parts, I think in surprise. “I want to.”

  “But you don’t—” My words drop off when the tip of his tongue swirls over the head of my shaft. My words turn to a groan of pleasure when his warm tongue concentrates on my length. His hands work the rest of my cock, his movements growing bolder until he is bobbing his head up and down, taking more of my cock in his hot, wet mouth each time.

  I try to keep myself from thrusting inside his mouth, try to make this first time as pleasurable for him as I can. His licks lack polish and precision. There’s no sense of boredom, no sense he’s returning a favor.

  He’s never done this before. That’s fine. My first time was in high school, but that doesn’t mean I’ve had any better luck in finding someone to be with in in a relationship. Though it’s only recently that I found myself daydreaming about one.

  His hands brush against my thighs. My legs part farther as his fingers trail close to my entrance. Maybe one day . . .

  I try to push the thought away. Ezra doesn’t need me to mess up his life further. The plan was for him to be horrified at my advances and ban Dad and me from the house. I admit the plan wasn’t a good one, but nobody wants to go up to a famous rock star and admit that your father is conning him.

  Instead, I concentrate on the blissful sensation of Ezra’s mouth and hands on my shaft. My breath quickens as his rhythm escalates.

  And I come. Hard.

  “Wow.” I settle back onto Ezra’s bed. My heart still races, and I pull Ezra toward me. Our bare skin touches. “I didn’t . . . wow.”

  Ezra grins at me. “You’re incoherent.”

  “Maybe. I sure as hell didn’t expect that.”

  Ezra blinks at me and then pulls away a bit. I immediately miss his body heat, and the way he makes every nerve in my body feel. “But you said . . .” He swallows and juts out his chin. “Anyway, it’s good to experiment.”

  “Uh-huh.” I smile. I’m not sure how it’s possible for him to be as cute as he is, but I’m sure going to enjoy it. He was supposed to hate me. He was supposed to be this hot-shot rock star, and though Ezra definitely is awesome—completely, amazingly awesome, he doesn’t hate me.

  And I don’t hate him.

  I frown as I consider my dad. He’s going to break Ezra’s mom’s heart, and then Ezra will hate me. He won’t ever want to see me again, and I won’t blame him in the least.

  “What’s wrong?” Ezra’s eyebrows scrunch together, and I shake my head and pull him closer to me. My heart thunders in my chest, but I’m going to savor this moment now, with Ezra.

  I know about my dad, know all about his cons, but I’m reluctant to out him. I’m hoping my dad is really serious, that he’s changed just as he says he has, but Ezra told me he met Angela at a supermarket. I know just how he did it, heard him brag often enough to me about researching women, finding where they shopped, and then appearing beside them.

  “Make them want you,” Dad used to tell me. “Make them think they planned everything. And women love to help.”

  Margaret gave him advice on hummus, and Ezra’s mom it seemed, was asked to help out with her vegetable skills.

  “I guess I should go.” He unravels himself from his arms. “Right?”

  His lips are in a tight line, and I pull him back down for a kiss. The feel of his hard body next to mine feels so right.

  “Or maybe—” I sigh.

  “Maybe?” Ezra prompts me.

  “I mean . . .” I inhale. “Maybe our parents might hear me entering the main house.”

  “That would be suspicious.” Ezra nods gravely. “Luckily, this bed is big.”

  I break into a smile and kiss the top of his head. “Great.”

  I try not to ponder what it means that I don’t want to leave his side. Instead, I pull his body close and allow sleep to overtake me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ezra

  The alarm clock blares, and my eyes fly open. I push my feet forward to slide off the bed, and arms tighten around my waist. My heartbeat quickens, and I move my fingers down and brush against hairs curling over muscular forearms

  Alec.

  Memories of last night tumble forward. I lean against his body, savoring the firmness of his chest and his musky, masculine scent. He squeezes me to him, and his cock, hard and thick, presses against me.

  I wiggle my butt tentatively, and my nerve endings sing when Alec’s cock continues to press against my entrance. The steady rhythm of his breath sounds in my ear. His salty scent, so different from the heavily perfumed women I am accustomed to, fills my nostrils.

  My cock thickens, and I bite my lip to prevent my moan from waking him. I’m rock hard, and the urge for friction, the urge for him, overwhelms me.

  In my mind, we continue last night’s activities, and Alec is throwing me on the mattress. His roughened hands explore my body, and his deep voice murmurs in my ear.

  I have no regrets about last night’s activities. The only thing I want now
is more of them. I spent too large a portion of my twenty-three years worried what the world would think of my desires. Now all I want is to explore them with Alec.

  I’m desperate for friction, desperate for Alec, and I slide his hand to my cock and spread his long fingers open so that he cups my hardness with his hand. I thrust into his hand in a tentative gesture that still causes pleasure to rocket through my body.

  I allow my mind to linger on the image of Alec entering me, and my cock twitches. This time, I don’t bother to mask my moan.

  No way am I going back to the way things were before. No more actresses, no more supermodels, no more sitting around with the band talking about hot babes when my fantasies dwell on men.

  I want Alec to take me now; I want him to explore every region of me and claim me for his own. And then I can take him.

  Sun rays cascade through the blinds. Their golden lines travel over the soft sheets, and I turn in Alec’s sleeping arms. The light dances through Alec’s brown hair, illuminating chestnut strands my fingers itch to touch. I smile when I remember we have slept together, and there is no distance between us anymore. We are both naked, tangled in each other’s arms.

  I blink into the sunlight, and Alec’s grip on me tightens. His arms are my fortress, my defense against the world. As long as I can slide into them, feel his chest against my back, his arms holding me, everything will be just fine.

  My lips turn up.

  I was with a man last night.

  I was happy. I am happy.

  My eyes drink in Alec’s features. I memorize his dark brows, his surprisingly long eyelashes, his handsome face. I want to explore every contour, study his straight, classic nose, and count the light freckles sprinkled over it. The tantalizing proximity of the chiseled lines of his mouth, the memory of our kisses, and the velvet warmth of his tongue distract me. My eyes marvel at his chiselled jaw and the alluring hollow at the base of his neck that I want to probe with my mouth.

  I curl my lips around Alec’s, and my hand delves to his rumpled hair. My cock juts against him, and the hard pulse of his arousal, even in sleep, does not escape me. Life is awesome. I don’t want to waste any more time, and I press my body against Alec’s with more force.

  Alec’s thick eyelashes, dark and curved and vulnerable looking when closed, flicker open. His eyes widen. Confusion turns to elation and then to something dismayingly like gloom.

  Something I absolutely do not want to see. Not in his eyes. Not when he could be happy.

  “It’s okay,” I say, though I don’t know what I’m comforting him about. It’s still early. We haven’t been discovered.

  He sits up on the bed, and his torso towers over me. Which is fine, because he’s still shirtless, and I give in to the temptation to roam over the hard ridges of his chest with my fingers.

  I shiver, even though it’s not cold. My body craves his, and ten inches of separation are too much. I grasp his hand, and pull him toward me.

  “I should go . . .” Alec rubs a hand through his hair.

  “Later.” I roll on top of him. I am deeply conscious of his masculinity and how much he varies from all the women I’ve slept with.

  I brushed my doubts of my sexuality aside for so many years, thinking that if I was able to fuck women, I wasn’t gay. I should have examined why the prospect of sex with women seemed like a chore, a way to get off, but messier and more awkward than my own hand. Instead, I blamed the long tours leading to one-night stands and limiting the possibility of a relationship. It’s not as if my parents’ relationship was something I aspired for myself.

  Excuses.

  Now I know better. And I owe Alec for that.

  “What happens now?” I press my lips into the hollow of Alec’s neck and trail kisses down his torso. His toes curl, and I map his body with the tip of my tongue, forging a path over the salty planes of his powerful, sun-darkened form.

  His hand cups my cheek. “God, Ezra.”

  Warmth spreads through me, and Alec pulls my body to him. This time, it’s his silky, tender tongue that sweeps over my lips, sucking on them.

  We kiss, and it’s awesome. Surfing and singing pale in comparison to the pleasure of succumbing to the expert touch of his tongue. His hot, wet mouth navigates mine, and my heart rate rockets.

  “I want you,” he murmurs. “Is it crazy that I want you so much?”

  “No.” My fingers glide over his body. “I want you too. I want everything with you.”

  “Mmm . . .”

  “I want to wake up in your arms every day.” Energy sweeps through me, emboldened by his moans of pleasure, and I punctuate my words with kisses. “I want you to take me to the Kentucky Derby, show me all the magnificent green farms your dad speaks so much about.”

  Alec stiffens beside me. My lips touch rigid muscles, and when my eyes meet his, he averts his gaze. His breath falters, and I have the queasy sensation he’s drifting away from me. I slide my fingers behind him, clutching the rippling muscles of his back as if I can drag him back to the blissful moment before.

  “Ezra.” Alec wiggles away from me, and his face hardens into an expression I recognize all too well.

  Heat gathers at the back of my neck. This was sex, he’s a guy, and our family situation and my ridiculous fame make anything between us impossible. Too complicated to attempt to be more. My fingers tighten, and I move from him.

  “Guess Brad will probably take us sometime anyway. Obviously, we—” My words break off. It’s too painful to continue my sentence.

  Alec’s face only darkens, and he presses his lips together in a tight line.

  “I should go.” Alec scrambles from the bed, and the sheet flutters to the floor. His bronzed body stretches before me.

  “I thought I always left before you.” He might think I didn’t notice the curtains from his room flicker whenever I strode to my car, but I totally did. I wink in a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

  Alec doesn’t smile back, and my smile freezes. His expression is stiff and formal, everything it shouldn’t be, considering what we just did.

  “Alec . . .” I rise on the bed, and my weight shifts unsteadily over the soft mattress. The light from the window warms me, but I blink into the glare of the harsh sunbeams that fall across the bed and illuminate strands of Alec’s hair.

  He shifts his legs in an awkward fashion, as if lingering in my room causes him physical pain.

  I suck in a breath of air and lift my chin up. “It was just sex. I get that, Alec. It’s cool.”

  I only hope Alec can’t hear the thud of my heart, can’t sense that I’m on the verge of shattering.

  “Yeah,” he says finally. “I get it.”

  “Just words, Alec. Don’t worry.”

  “Sure.”

  I bite my lip, because I don’t know what there is to say. Until last night, I avoided him, uncomfortable at his ability to cause my heart to pound out a frantic beat by his sheer presence, afraid he would learn my deepest secret.

  And now he knows, and all the delicious hormones drift away, and I’m left with the pain I always knew I would encounter.

  “You won’t tell?” My voice wobbles, and I want to swear.

  Alec scowls, and I wonder if I imagined every tender moment between us last night.

  “Of course not,” he growls.

  He throws on his clothes, and I move my gaze away from him. Seeing his half-dressed body feels like invading his privacy now.

  Alec heads for the door and then stops. For a moment I think we’re actually going to talk, but instead he says, “You better check to make sure the coast is clear.”

  “Right.” I clamber off the bed. I throw a robe over me and poke my head out the door. “Nothing.”

  Alec gives me a firm nod. His jaw is clenched, and he steps out. I try to tell myself that his salty scent when his body brushes against me does not cause my heart to tumble, and I try to tell myself that his steady strides down the hallway to his room do not make my chest c
lench as if it’s me he’s trampling against.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ezra

  After Alec leaves I scrub all remainders of last night from my body. Not that it helps extinguish the images that invade my mind. My whole self screams that I should follow Alec. He’s right down the hall. I can just knock on the door, and then maybe we can kiss and embrace and . . .

  Alec practically raced from the room. Maybe I sounded a tad romantic. But I’m a singer, a songwriter. That shouldn’t be shocking.

  And he shouldn’t scramble from my room like I have some sort of vile, contagious disease.

  My fist tightens around the shampoo bottle, and a long stream squirts onto the granite shower floor. Shit. I direct the shower head to the thick liquid and wish once again I could wash away all memories of last night with equal ease.

  Because I’ve changed.

  I’ve moved from inexperienced dreamer to not quite so inexperienced in one night. I’ve discovered true pleasure and, just as quickly, had it snatched away from me.

  And it would help if I knew why, but Alec has been a consistent mystery. Hot and cold from one moment to the next, and I wish I had stayed far away from him and not given into my curiosity and imaginings that he could be something more.

  My whole career is in the hands of a man I don’t trust.

  It’s good, I try to tell myself. If I’m gay—and I can’t deny that—I shouldn’t be pretending I’m not.

  But I don’t want the tabloids to plaster their covers with my life story and my feeble explorations. I don’t want my inner life to help sell magazines. No way.

  The responsibilities of the band press against me. We’re strong, but two gay stars seems like a burden. And the thought of being the cause of anyone’s displeasure makes me recoil.

  I throw on my clothes hastily. Today isn’t the day for blow drying. I want to be in the studio, now, playing my music, now, and distracting my mind from the mystery that is Alec Vandergeld.