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By Selena Kitt
High school senior, Moxie, agrees to be moral support for her friend, Patches, who is totally enamored with a college boy, so she says yes to a double date, even though she has to lie to her parents to do it. But Moxie wasn’t counting on lying about her age to get into an x-rated movie, and she definitely wasn’t counting on her date’s Roman hands and Russian fingers, or the fact that the pants she’s borrowed from Patches are several sizes too small. By the end of the night, Moxie finds herself in far more trouble than she bargained for!
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BOOK DESCRIPTION
Stepbrother Studs: Hayden
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BOOK DESCRIPTION
Kelly keeps hearing from her college friends what a sexy beast her older stepbrother, Hayden, is—but he’s too busy being a college football star to have much time for girls.
Well, except for Kelly. They’ve always been close, but now that they’re going to the same school, they spend all their time together.
Kelly roots for her brother on the sidelines as a cheerleader, but off the field, she secretly wishes he would pay her some attention.
Because while she knows it’s forbidden, she can’t seem to resist, and it’s getting harder to hide her feelings for him.
When the opportunity comes up for Kelly to push things in a different direction, she literally jumps at the chance.
Will she be able to convince her stepbrother to cross that forbidden line?
Stepbrother Studs: Hayden
By Selena Kitt
CHECK OUT MORE IN THIS SERIES:
Stepbrother Studs: Aaron
Stepbrother Studs: Brian
Stepbrother Studs: Cameron
Stepbrother Studs: Daren
Stepbrother Studs: Dustin
Stepbrother Studs: Evan
Stepbrother Studs: Finn
I followed the sound of iron plates slamming together, hurrying toward the garage entrance. My gaze narrowed on one big, dumb jock.
“Dammit, Hayden! Should you be doing that?”
He grunted, not looking at me as he scowled and pushed hard with his feet against the plate of the leg press, lifting a huge stack of iron disks. Once he had it raised high, he ground out, “I have to be ready for the game on Saturday... or I’ll be benched.” But he grimaced half-way through, lowering the plates, and his thighs trembled. “Kelly...?”
Without being told what he needed, because I’ve always been tuned into my brother’s needs, whether it was helping him with his math or spotting him while he lifted weights, I straddled his body where he reclined on the padded seat and squatted. Then I wrapped my hands around the bar from above to hold some of the weight. I couldn’t take it all, but he didn’t need me to. He simply needed help as he lowered the weight until the bar caught on the safety bracket.
“Son of bitch. I should have been able to push that!” His hands steadied my hips. “You can get your ass out of my face now, little sister.”
His words sounded muffled, like he was uncomfortable. I released my grip and slowly stepped over him to stand beside the seat. His face was red, but he wore a smirk. I glanced down his body and noted the erection beginning to protrude at the front of his thin gray sweatpants.
“Oh my God, you’re getting a boner!”
“Your sweet ass was right in front of my nose. What do you expect?”
“You have a boner—for me!” I wrinkled my nose, more amused than shocked. “I’m your sister!”
“It’s a nice ass. I wasn’t thinking about you being my sister, just that you were wearing those little cheerleader shorts, and I’ve never been that close to a cheerleader’s ass.” He shrugged and a little grin played at the corners of his mouth. “Gimme a break. I haven’t had any since Heather broke up with me. I’m a guy.”
“Stop it!” I said, slapping him. “You have a hand. I know you know what to do with it.”
I raised my eyebrows, telling him I remembered quite well the time I’d caught him in the bathroom back home jerking off, the smell of baby oil filling the air. He’d been so embarrassed, but so close, all he could do was close his eyes and shoot cum all over the towel he’d laid on the bathroom counter.
“Jerking myself off doesn’t take away the edge. It’s not the same as having a real puss—”
I stuck my fingers in my ears and sang, “La-la-la-la, I’m not hearing this.”
His hand shot out and grabbed my arm, tugging one of my fingers from my ears, then he tugged again and I fell against him, half-lying over him. “We don’t play those games, Kel. Never have. It’s what I love about you. I can tell you anything.”
“Well maybe… you shouldn’t.” My body was beginning to hum, my nipples tingling, the tips beading. “We aren’t kids anymore. We’re in college. We have our own friends. Our own relationships.”
“Not anymore,” he said, his hand smoothing up my back. “I’m in training. I don’t have time to go out and find another girl. And I hear you and Brian broke up. Is that what you came to talk to me about?”
I sighed. I really didn’t want to talk to him about it when my breasts were pressed against his sweaty skin, and his musky scent surrounded me. Not for the first time, my mind went places it shouldn’t. I was tempted to let my hands roam. My fingers itched as I thought about wrapping my hand around the impressive erection poking my side.
His hips moved and his dick nudged me.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” I said, my voice catching.
“Feels good,” he murmured, a sparkle of challenge in his brown eyes.
“Any girl would do.”
He shook his head then let go of me. “I better get up.”
“You already are.” I gave him a sly smile. He grimaced again, and I moved away to stand beside him again. “That hamstring giving you trouble?”
He nodded. “Can’t believe I pulled it doing leg lifts during practice. Coach sat me in the ice bath, then had his helper wrap it with compression bandages. That was three days ago, and it was only a grade one strain. Said he thought I’d be able to play Saturday and I should be able to work out today.”
“I doubt he meant you should be doing any heavy lifting. You’ll cause more damage.”
“I’m not a patient guy. Lying around, nothing to do makes me... restless.”
“Horny, you mean? You don’t have some girl you could call? Coeds love a football player. I’m sure someone could come help you ‘work off’ some of your frustration.”
“But then they’d want to stay.” He shuddered.
“And talk.” I grinned. “I know you have a phobia about that.”
“It’s not a phobia. I just don’t like to talk after sex.”
“Poor baby.” I laughed. “Don’t you know that’s the cost of a good time? Besides, you talk plenty to me. It’s not like you’re shy or anything.”
“Yeah, but I can tell you to shut u
p, and you won’t get all pouty. And you like the same things I do. I don’t have to pretend to be interested in what you’re saying.”
“You’re such an asshole. I get why Heather dumped you.”
He grunted and held his thigh while he moved his legs to one side of his seat.
“Hey, you’re really hurting.” I bent toward him to help him up.
“It’s just a strain.” His gaze locked with mine. “But I’m cramping a bit. I could use a massage...”
I blinked. I’d given him massages before. He was always injuring muscles. But things had been changing between us of late. Or maybe it was just me. I was more aware of him as a handsome guy, not just my good-looking brother. The way other girls looked at him, the way they talked about him, had made me really take notice.
His tall, well-muscled frame naturally drew girls’ gazes. His thick, dark hair and dark brooding eyes kept their attention. And his quick smile was killer.
Realizing I was staring, I mentally shook myself. He’d asked me for a massage. I could do that.
“Okay. But let’s move this inside so you can lie down.”
I followed him as he limped to the door leading into his apartment, then trailed him through the living area and hallway to his bedroom. His bed was unmade, sheets twisted and pulled from the end.
“Here, let me make the bed first,” I said, skirting around him.
“Why bother?”
“Okayyyy.” I pulled back the comforter and top sheet and let them fall off the end of the bed, leaving the bottom sheet exposed. “Lie facing down. I’ll go find some lotion.”
“Under the sink,” he called after me.
The sound of mattress coils creaking sent a warm flush of pleasure over my skin. Get a grip. You’re only giving him a massage. But I grew warmer at the thought of touching his muscled thighs. Hayden was a well-built guy. Years of football had filled out his tall, lanky frame. And I hadn’t had sex in over a month. That thought left me slightly breathless.
I found the lotion and returned to the bedroom, but nearly tripped when I noticed he’d removed his shorts. His face was turned to the side, and he was watching me, a little smile on his face, eyes narrowed—again, challenging me.
He knew better than anyone—I always took a dare. So I approached the bed without comment and climbed onto the mattress to kneel beside him.
“You won’t get deep enough from that angle.” He was practically purring. His breath held like he was waiting to see whether I’d take the bait.
Pretending I wasn’t bothered by the sight of a nice round butt, I climbed between his legs then nudged on his inner thighs. “Make some room.”
He widened his legs, just enough I could see his balls. They were smooth. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask me whether he’d shaved, but I bit my lip and drew a line of lotion down the back of his injured thigh. Then I went to work, starting gently, rubbing the muscle, floating my hands over his warm skin. Gradually, I leaned into him, giving him my weight as I used the heels of my palms to press into the swollen muscle.
“Feels good.” He groaned and resettled his legs, widening them again.
But his buttocks were tight, and I knew he was resting on a full-blown erection. It couldn’t be comfortable, and he was resisting grinding into the mattress, because it was his sister giving him this massage.
“It’s okay.” I kept my tone even, like I was a pro at this, like I didn’t know he was getting aroused by my touch. “You can move. It’s me. And you’re too tense. Let me help.”
His next groan sounded pained.
“You don’t get it.” His voice was thick.
But I did. And to let him know it was okay, really okay, I slid one hand between his legs and cupped his balls. “I think I do.”
“Don’t.” His breath hissed through his teeth.
“But you’re tense. Too tense for this massage to do you any good.”
“You better go.”
“No. I’m here. You need help. Pretend I’m one of those coed groupies who run laps around the track during practice in their bikinis to get your attention. Close your eyes and come up on your knees. This will be... therapeutic.”
My own voice was getting breathier. My heart thudded in my chest as I waited to see whether he’d go for it. The impulse to be intimate with him was too strong to ignore, and this was the only way I could think to indulge my curiosity without making it too weird. I was just helping him out. And he needed me, needed this release—so he could relax, and I could finish the massage.
He rose on his elbows, then his knees. His cock was there for me to see, bobbing beneath his belly, thick and long, fully engorged. I turned and lay on my back, then slid upward between his legs, until my face was directly beneath the head of his cock. It was round and bulbous.
Fuck, I couldn’t believe Heather had been willing to give it up. Just the head would stretch my pussy. I was petite, and he was so large. Images of what we’d look like together flooded my mind. But he was waiting, and I didn’t want him to think I was reconsidering my offer.
“It’s okay to move.” I cleared my throat. “To come into my mouth. Do whatever you need to do to get off.”
Did he hear the tension in my voice? Did he know how excited I was? My own body was coiled like a spring. Blood rushed to my nipples and my pussy, and a rush of heat flooded my face. I slid my hands around his shaft and tipped him down to my mouth. I began by tonguing his crown, around and around. A bead of cum squeezed from the little slitted hole at the top, and I licked it up, reveling in the moan he couldn’t hold back.
I licked the sides of his shaft, wetting it generously, then began to glide my hands up and down his length, squeezing and twisting while I took the head into my mouth and sucked it.
“Fuck yeah, Kel.” His hips dipped a couple of inches to slide his cock deeper into my mouth. I’d given boyfriends blow jobs before, and liked the way it felt—my mouth filled, my cheeks tensing as I sucked. I liked the smell of male musk, the salty flavor of cum. But this was different, more intense.
This was my brother fucking my mouth! Stepbrother, I amended in my mind. The distinction was important, was what made this marginally more acceptable. We weren’t doing anything wrong. Not really. We weren’t blood.
My hands worked faster, sliding up and down, and then I took one hand away, letting him sink more fully into my greedy mouth. I strained to raise my head and change the angle, to take more of him, and then he slipped a hand under my head to cradle it.
I curved toward his stroking cock, widening my jaws while my lips tightened to suck harder. His hips moved in smooth, measured thrusts, and I let go the hand still holding him to grip his hips above me. His dick slid past my tongue to the back of my throat, and I gagged. But I made myself relax and breathe through my nose, allowing him deeper still until his strokes shortened, battering my throat in quick pulses—and then he came.
His shout brought happy tears to my eyes. His release filled my mouth in hot, salty spurts, which I swallowed, my throat working against the tip of his cock, taking every gushing, gooey bit of him.
When he slowed to a stop, I disengaged, and moved out from under him. I was shattered, but couldn’t let him know. I pushed on his ass until he lowered to the bed, and then resumed the massage.
He cradled his face in his arms and stayed silent as I gave him the deep massage he needed. When he slept, I slipped from the bed and closed the door.
But I didn’t leave his apartment. Instead, I got busy in the kitchen, heating stew from cans. He’d need to eat when he awoke. And then we needed to talk. Not a conversation that would be easy for us. But I was afraid that I’d crossed a line, and that he might view me differently.
I couldn’t lose my best friend. Sex shouldn’t get in the way of what we were to each other. Somehow, I had to convince him that we hadn’t lost anything, but had just added a new layer. Maybe I could appeal to the practical side of him by reminding him that he was too busy to find a new girlf
riend, and he needed physical release to stay relaxed and healthy.
Thoughts of how to approach the topic ate at me, but I kept busy, filling the dishwasher with the plates and cups littering the counter. If Daddy and Jessica could see what a slob he was, they might think twice about letting him live off-campus. They’d paid for a dorm room for me, for safety. But I spent more time here than in the small room I shared with a psych major I couldn’t stand because she was always analyzing everyone around us, trying to diagnose different disorders.
Everyone was fucked up. This was college. So, I was obsessed with my own brother. Comparing him to every guy I dated ruined any chance for those other guys. None were as handsome and strong or funny and sweet.
I heard the sound of the shower and my heart began to race. My stomach dropped to my toes.
I wasn’t waiting to talk to him. I was waiting to see whether he’d let me jump his dick. I was still aroused by everything I’d done. Maybe I’d messed everything up.
Unable to face him with my fears, I turned on the dishwasher, turned off the stove, and slipped out his kitchen door. I’d give him some space. The next time we saw each other, I’d pretend nothing had happened. It was for the best. I couldn’t lose my brother, the most important guy in my life, over a little thing like a blow job. He’d needed it. I’d provided it. Simple as that.
Hayden wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. I wouldn’t let him.
On Friday, I tried my best to keep focused on my own practice. I didn’t dare look down the football field where the coach was running drills. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Hayden running laps, no longer limping. I told myself I was satisfied, knowing he was better and that I’d had a hand in helping him heal.
“Helloooo!”
I turned back to Chloe, the head cheerleader who was giving me her mean-girl face. My attention had drifted again. Not a good thing since we were practicing for Saturday’s game. As I was the smallest of the cheerleaders, I was a flyer—half of the top of a pyramid. We’d planned a simple pyramid. Me and another girl would fly up and balance for a moment, one foot supported by two other squad members’ hands. So far, I’d failed to find my center, toppling off every time they joined hands to raise me.
