by S. E. Law
The Naughty Party
A Forbidden Stepbrother Romance
S.E. Law
Copyright © 2020 by S.E. Law
All rights reserved.
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.
Created with Vellum
Also by S.E. Law
Sweet Treats
His Candy Cane
Her Juicy Cherry
Her Honey Pot
Second Helpings
Sugar Walls
Please and Tease
Forbidden Fruit
Band of Brothers
Her Italian Wedding
The Boyfriend Diaries
Mommy’s Ex
Mommy’s Boss
Mommy’s Landlord
Daddy’s Christmas Gift
Daddy’s Holiday Baby
Daddy’s Love Child
Made for Them
Built For Them
Sugar and Spice
The Naughty Party
Sweet as Candy
Standalones
You’re Mine
Boss of My Panties
Naughty Relations
About My Daddies
About Last Night
About This Morning
About That Evening
Playing with Them
Playing with the Doctors
Playing with the Criminals
Playing with her Priests
Healing Hands
Dr. Feelgood
Dr. Man Candy
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Contents
About This Book
1. Frankie
2. Hunter
3. Frankie
4. Hunter
5. Frankie
6. Hunter
7. Frankie
8. Hunter
9. Frankie
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Sugar and Spice
About the Author
About This Book
I met him at a naughty party where people do more than just *play.*
My friend invited me to a party one summer.
It was supposed to be just another shindig with drunk boys and lots of beer.
But when I got there, my eyebrows went up because this wasn’t just any get together …
This was a party where people were doing *that* in full view.
My jaw dropped to the floor.
My inhibitions flew out the door.
And soon, I was doing *that* too. Hunter’s got wide shoulders, a broad chest and a Tall Boy that makes my mouth water.
OMG, it was so wrong.
How could I?
But now, it turns out that Hunter’s my stepbrother.
What do we do?
Crank up the A/C because Frankie’s world is being blown away by a raunchy party in the small town of Granite Heights. She meets the gorgeous Hunter, but will things work out when they realize they’re soon to be related by marriage? Read and find out! No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers.
1
Frankie
“You’re joking, right?” I ask, half-wondering if I misheard her and half-wondering if all the non-stop partying has finally made Jenny lose her mind completely.
“Come on, Frankie,” she says, a wicked grin already spreading on her pretty face. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t sound interesting.”
“‘Interesting’ isn’t the word I would use, Jenny,” I reply, hoping my tone conveys my skepticism. Interesting is how I would describe a new exhibit at the art museum. Interesting is how I would describe last semester’s class on the ancient Roman legal system. It’s not, however, the word I would use to describe a massive house party being thrown on the other side of town, on a night I would normally spend catching up on my Netflix queue and drinking my weight in Diet Coke.
“You’re seriously not even a little curious?” Jenny presses, staring at me with her big blue eyes. Jenny Pack has been my best friend since grade school, the vivacious counterpart to my more reserved personality. As time has passed, that difference between us has only seemed to grow, but that hasn’t stopped us from remaining fast friends through the cliques, drama, and gossip of first middle, and then high school. And now she’s doing exactly what she always does: trying to rope me into her shenanigans.
“Jenny,” I say, leaning back on the couch, “just because you don’t want to go by yourself, that doesn’t mean you’re dragging me along.”
“Hey, I never said that,” Jenny protests, feigning offense as she sweeps a lock of platinum blonde hair out of her face. She’s curvy, like me, and carries her weight like a plus-size model. I, on the other hand… Well, let’s just say there’s a reason I haven’t ever gotten naked in front of a guy before.
“No,” I reply, examining my nails, “but you were going to. You were gearing up for it. I can tell.”
“Damn, Frankie,” she says, crossing her arms, “you really know how to take the air out of my sails, do you know that?”
“Well, someone has to,” I shoot back, grinning at her, and she returns my smile.
For all our differences, Jenny and I banter as well now as we did when we were kids. I think that’s part of the reason our friendship lasted after high school. We’re opposites, but in a way that complement each other. Jenny is outgoing and vivacious, whereas I’m nerdy and introverted, but it works out. We still have a lot of commonalities, even though I left for college while Jenny’s stayed here in our hometown.
Plus, college has been a boon to me. I’ve always been fascinated by history for as long as I can remember. Back in school, when the other kids were doodling in textbooks and passing notes, I was always the one asking questions, writing things down, and engaging with the material. That’s not to say I’m a genius by any means, but it was what solidified my desire to go to college somewhere with a killer history program. I ended up leaving my childhood home to study at Berkeley, while she stayed here in Granite Heights to attend community college and party her ass off.
Not that I can blame her or anything. If I had half of Jenny’s charisma and charm, or half of her comfort in her own body, I would probably be out there partying with her. But I don’t. I’m just a curvy twenty-year-old girl with mousy brown hair and, in my opinion, equally dishwater brown eyes. I’ve never had sex - never even had a boyfriend, actually (unless you count Dylan Rogers back in fifth grade, but that lasted all of about a week). So far, I’ve stayed away from the social scene, maintaining a small group of friends but otherwise keeping to myself. Sometimes, I wonder what the other girls are doing: the wild ones who always seem to come home with flushed cheeks and their hair askew. But then I get into another good book, and the wondering stops. They’re probably having too much fun, while I’m still safe with my Heathcliffs and Mr. Darcys
Which brings us back to the current situation. Jenny is staring at me again, like she’s sizing me up, and I can feel myself starting to itch under her gaze.
“What is it?” I ask. “You’re giving me that look again.”
“Oh, nothing,” Jenny replies, staring out the living room window. Her eyes still hav
e that glint in them. “I was just thinking how unfortunate it would be to miss out on an opportunity to hang out. You know, since it’s your first week back and everything.”
“Oh, jeez,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re pulling the guilt trip card. We’ve got the whole summer, Jenny! We-”
“Come on, please? I know this really great party going on.” All pretenses are out the window now. She’s begging me at this point, and I can already tell she’s not going to let it go. “Just for a few minutes. We can show up, check it out, and if we’re not feeling it, we’ll leave. Let’s at least try. Please?” She puts her hands under her chin, batting her eyelashes and eliciting a chuckle from me.
In spite of my resistance, I find myself having a hard time telling her no. I run a hand through my hair, letting out a sigh. “I don’t even have nice clothes,” I say. “What am I supposed to-”
“Just wear something light,” Jenny replies, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s hot out there.” There’s something evasive in her tone, but I don’t see the point in questioning it.
I purse my lips.
“Just for a little bit, right? And if it sucks, we leave?”
She nods, a placating smile already on her face.
“Promise.”
You’re going to regret this, I think to myself, but I can already feel the last of my resistance crumbling.
“Okay,” I say, shaking my head and giving a dry chuckle. “Fine. You win. I’ll go, but I swear, if it sucks then we have to leave immediately.”
“Of course!” my friend says innocently. But then her grin becomes devious again. “I promise it won’t be bad, Frankie. I think you’ll love it, in fact.”
I shoot a glance at Jenny because there’s something odd about her words, but I can’t put my finger on it. Brushing it out of my mind, we spend the rest of the afternoon at my house. Jenny helps me put on some makeup - she was always better at that kind of thing than I was - and assures me multiple times that the sundress I brought back from California will be perfect party attire. She seems fixated on my neckline, assessing it like it’s the key to my future, and at one point Mom stops in the doorway and gives us an inquisitive look.
“You girls all right in there?”
I nod.
“Yeah, Mom. Just getting ready for a party tonight.”
Gertrude raises her eyebrows, no doubt surprised to hear those words coming out of my mouth.
“Okay,” she says after a moment’s pause. “Have fun. Just don’t stay out too late. Remember, we’re going to dinner tomorrow with George and his son. Good first impressions, and all that.”
I nod, giving her a thin smile, and watch her disappear down the hallway. George is my mom’s fiancé. He’s a wealthy real estate developer who’s set to become Mom’s fourth husband. I have my doubts that it’s going to work out, given Gertrude’s track record. I still want to be there for her, though. She hasn’t had an easy go of it since dad left.
Jenny eyes me over her compact mirror. “You still haven’t met your stepdad yet?”
“Soon-to-be stepdad,” I correct her. “I haven’t met his son either.”
“Damn,” Jenny says, shaking her head. “That’s weird. They’re already engaged too?”
I shrug.
“It’s Gertrude’s life. She can do what she wants, and you know my mom. She works at light speed when it comes to men. I’m just glad I won’t be here to see it if this marriage falls apart like the rest of them.”
“That’s depressing,” remarks Jenny, snapping the compact closed. “I say we head out for our night of debauchery. I guarantee that by tomorrow morning, you’ll have forgotten all about your mom’s dating life.”
I chuckle and dismiss the idea, unaware of just how true it will turn out to be.
The drive through the suburbs takes less time than I’m expecting, but we’ve managed to avoid the majority of the rush hour traffic on our way to the neighborhood where the party is taking place. Inwardly I’m already starting to regret agreeing to come, and wonder whether it’s even possible to throw a fun house party in the suburbs, where the best one can hope for is beer that’s not too warm. But it’s too late to turn back now, especially with Jenny practically bouncing in her seat with excitement, and as we pull up to the curb and climb out of her van, I force myself to put on an enthusiastic face.
“It’s just up there, on the corner,” my friend enthuses, pointing to a large house at the end of the block. This isn’t just any house. This place is practically a manor. The red brick building is big, obviously expensive, and even as we approach down the sidewalk, I can hear the muffled sounds of music, voices, and laughter coming from inside. I notice that the window blinds are all drawn, with light barely escaping from the inside, and that strikes me as a little odd.
“Do you know anyone here?” I ask, feeling tentative as we walk up the steps to the door.
Jenny shakes her head.
“Not exactly. A friend of a friend is hosting. She said it was going to be wild.”
“Oh,” I say, a hint of apprehensiveness creeping into my voice. “That’s, uh… good. I’m sure it will be fun.”
If Jenny picks up on my nervousness, she doesn’t say anything. I was never one for parties back in high school. I went to a few, yeah, but they inevitably ended with me standing awkwardly in a corner, drinking root beer - or on rare occasions, actual beer - while I watched everyone else have a good time without me. As Jenny rings the doorbell, I can already tell that’s where I’ll end up in T-minus twenty minutes, and just hope she makes good on her promise to leave when things get boring.
After a moment, a svelte brunette answers the door, giving us a once-over with her eyes. I feel immediately self-conscious, like I’m being assessed, but I try to put on a nonchalant expression. The girl at the door is dressed in a silk kimono, and I’m a little surprised to see someone so casual, even at a house party. Is it the latest style to wear robes to parties?
Jenny doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, her eyes lighting up as soon as the door opens.
“Hi,” she says immediately, beaming. “I’m a friend of Rachel Martin. She said this was the place to go for a good time.”
“Oh okay,” the brunette says. She opens the door wider to let us in. “Rachel’s inside already, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t say hi right away. She’s a little busy at the moment.” There’s a gleam in her eyes that I can’t put my finger on, but she doesn’t give us time to think about it any further before sweeping away. We step inside, and the door closes behind us. The thumping music is immediately amplified, and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting of the interior.
Whatever I was expecting, this wasn’t it. In my limited experience with parties, I’m used to beer cans scattered on the floor, overturned chairs, and the occasional mess from someone who got too wasted. Instead, we’re greeted with soft mood lighting that must be connected to the central system because the lights change from turquoise to purple to orange to green in time with the music. There’s no one in the front entryway, but from the other rooms I can hear voices and… moans? I furrow my brow, glancing at Jenny, but she looks like a kid in a candy store.
Then, something shocking happens. The woman who let us in pauses at the end of the hallway, undoes her kimono tie, and lets it drop to the floor. I gape when I see she’s naked underneath, but she seems totally at ease as she looks over her shoulder at the two of us.
“Come on,” she says, nodding in the direction of the living room. “The fun’s this way.”
I’m too flabbergasted to say anything, although my eyes pop out at the woman’s ivory body. She’s slim and lithe with a tiny chest and narrow hips. Does she feel that this is strange? Evidently not.
I nudge Jenny.
“What’s going on?” I whisper harshly. “Why did she take off her robe?”
My friend ignores me.
“Come on, Frankie. Let’s see who else is here.”
&nb
sp; I stare, but continue to follow them, still dumbstruck, around the corner. The living room is large and surprisingly neat for the site of a house party, but that barely crosses my mind as I look around. What was I expecting? Spin the bottle? Beer pong? Drunk frat boys spraying graffiti on the walls? Whatever it was, it wasn’t this.
Everywhere I look, people are spread on the floor, draped over sofas, and leaning against the wall. Most are nude, just like the girl who answered the door, and all are engaged in some kind of dirty act. In the back, I see a girl giving a frantic blow job to a tall guy against the wall. Another guy leans over the couch, thrusting doggy-style into a moaning co-ed. Three girls are tangled up on the floor, limbs and tongues everywhere, to the point where I can’t tell where one ends and another begins. Through open doorways, I see more of the same. All around us are beautiful people doing filthy things, the kind of things I didn’t know existed outside of porn. The kind of things I never, ever saw myself doing.
Our hostess brunette winks at me and Jenny before straddling a guy who’s lounging next to the other couple on the couch and placing his hands on her breasts.
“Make yourselves at home,” she sings before leaning down to kiss the man passionately. Evidently, she sees her work as done.
My jaw must be on the floor. I turn to Jenny.
“What the hell?” I hiss. It’s the only thing I can think of.
“What?” Jenny asks, feigning innocence.
“I thought you said this was a house party,” I whisper, watching as the brunette grinds against the guy on the couch.
