His Brother's Fiancée

by Vivian Wood

  “Text him. Right now, I demand it,” P said. “As your pseudo-boss.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know! For the show, the runway show that I managed just for you, you have to do what I say.”

  “Yeah, only at the show and rehearsals.”

  “Consider this a rehearsal, then.” He said. “Go on, I know you have your phone up there on your international trek.”

  “Ugh, okay,” she said. She picked her phone out of the cup holder and scrolled to his name. “What should I ask him?”

  “Uh, ask him to go to the amusement park. Do you have dementia or something?”

  “Fine,” she said.

  “Add like a cotton candy emoji and an eggplant or something,” P said.

  “Shut up.” She shot Sean a simple text before she could chicken out or P could offer more “helpful” suggestions.

  Harper was surprised that he texted back immediately, but with no mention of her invitation. “How’s my sweetheart?” he asked.

  She turned pink. “Oh. My. God,” P said. “What is it? What’d he say?”

  “Nothing,” she snapped.

  “Jesus, you really do need to get laid. Put the claws away.”

  She went back to the phone and saw the ellipses.

  “Today’s my only day off, but if you’re free I’m down,” Sean added.

  She blushed and handed the phone to P. “Don’t reply,” she warned.

  He looked at the phone. “Whatever you say. Sweetheart. Now get your ass off that thing. We need to get you ready. How do you feel about crop tops?”

  “Does it really matter how I feel?” Harper asked. She looked at the number displays. If I could just get in ten more minutes …

  “No, not really,” P said.

  11

  Harper

  She ran her hand across her stomach as she maneuvered through the parking lot. The familiar half-moon crevices below her sternum concaved inward, reassuring. But is it as deep as it used to be?

  Harper tried to shake the fears out of her. It’s not like we’re going to hook up tonight anyway. Right?

  As she reached the entryway, the neon lights lit up as dusk settled in. Sean was outlined by the yellow and pink carnival lights. He held up two red tickets when he saw her.

  She swallowed hard and prayed he couldn’t hear her heart start to pound. As always, he looked so effortlessly good it took her breath away. Jeans that were distressed naturally, leather motorcycle boots and a threadbare white tee-shirt under the soft leather jacket.

  Sean didn’t say anything, but he offered his arm. Harper didn’t know if the gesture was wholly or partially ironic, but she threaded her own arm through—grateful for whatever he’d give. She looked down and joy spread through her. Her own arm looked so slender and pale nestled in the black leather, and smooth from the recent wax.

  “I got us both unlimited wristbands,” he said as they entered.

  “Oh,” she said. “You don’t strike me as the type that’s into carnival rides.”

  He shrugged. “A thrill’s a thrill, no matter how you get it. Legal, morally sound or not.”

  That struck her as curious, but she offered up her wrist and he looped the neon band around it. “Your wrist is almost small enough for this to go around twice,” he commented.

  She bit her lip to keep from smiling. Almost. “So, what’s first?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to brag, but I’m kind of an expert on these things.”

  “Tell me more,” she said.

  “You start with the kiddie rides. Or, at least the ones they’ll let you on. It’s about the build-up. And patience. You don’t want to just go directly to the Zipper.”

  “You’ve … put a lot of thought into this.”

  “Not really,” he said, and directed her towards the teacups.

  “The purple is supposed to be the fastest,” she said. They were already near the front of the line. These rides weren’t going to win any popularity contests.

  “That’s just a myth,” he said. “Some are looser than others, but you never know which ones.”

  Still, he let her take his hand and drag him towards the purple teacup. Sean pulled the bar across their laps. Harper couldn’t help but check and see how much space was between the bar and her thighs compared to his. God, I hate how my thighs spread when I sit, she thought. It looked even worse in her tight jeans. I should have worn a dress.

  The music started and the teacup slowly began its turn. “You know, if you just sit back and take it in, it kind of feels like getting high,” she said.

  “Like marijuana high?”

  “Well … yeah,” she said. What did he think I meant? Cocaine?

  He shrugged. “Drugs never did much for me.”

  Great, now he thinks I’m a pothead.

  For a kiddie ride, she had to give it props. The swirling made her slide like a ragdoll from side to side until Sean caught her and held her tight. The steadiness of him calmed her, centered her. It made her feel whole.

  From the teacups, they made their way to the miniature roller coaster designed for kids. The cars were designed like old-fashioned vehicles from the 1920s. Harper laughed as Sean struggled to fit into the car behind her.

  She was happy to let him take charge and direct her to whatever was next. They passed the concessions while they progressed to the thrill rides. “Something sweet?” Sean asked.

  Harper didn’t even have to think about the calculations. Cotton candy, girly and romantic, and at a surprising 200 calories max always looked impressive. Still, she insisted they share and didn’t sneak any pulls of the sugary threads unless she was sure he’d see.

  She surveyed the thrill rides. “I think the Ferris Wheel is the tamest,” she said.

  “You’re right, but it has to be saved for last,” he said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t make the rules.”

  She raised a brow at him. Of course he made the rules.

  Harper was happy to show off her lack of fear. Any California kid grew up in amusement parks. She’d always been tall, and made the height requirements of thrill rides well before her friends and classmates did when they were in elementary school.

  However, she’d never been a screamer. No matter how fantastic and adrenaline-inducing the ride, she remained stoic. It wasn’t by choice. There were many times she would have loved to scream in faux terror along with her friends. It was just that these rides didn’t worm into her psyche the same way they did other people.

  As they scrambled onto the Fire Ball, Harper leaned towards Sean. “You know this is the ride that killed that kid in Ohio,” she said.

  “Are you trying to scare me?” he asked. A smile played at his lips.

  “Maybe. But it’s true.”

  Her stomach turned somersaults and her hair flew like mad around her face. Being here, in the dark with the neon far below and Sean’s thigh pressed against hers, she felt almost free. Harper couldn’t remember the last time this had happened.

  “Okay,” Sean said as they disembarked. “Only one left.”

  The carnie directed them towards an open cage. Harper climbed in first, aware of Sean’s eyes on her ass. She slowed down and took her time. Why not give him a show?

  “We’ll go around three times,” the carnie called when everyone was in. “Pause at the top.”

  As the Ferris Wheel jolted into motion, the music started. “What is it about fair rides and Journey?” she asked. “Don’t Stop Believin’” could be clearly heard even at the top of the wheel.

  “It’s not just Journey. It’s any 80s rock,” Sean said. “I appreciate it. It’s like time stands still at these places.”

  During the first two revolution pauses, they were nowhere near the top. The third time, they stopped at the apex of the wheel. Images of the scene in Fear where Mark Wahlberg got Reese Witherspoon off on a roller coaster flashed through her head. Sean gazed into the night and his apathy se
t her off.

  On impulse, she leaned over and kissed him. He didn’t seem surprised, but instead of responding there was a shift. Sean grabbed her thigh and pulled her on top of him with ease. She straddled him, yet he was in control. With his hands on her hips, she felt safe even so many feet above the ground.

  Sean leaned back slightly. Their combined weight tipped the cage dangerously to one side. But she didn’t want to stop. His tongue flicked against hers and his fingers bore into her thighs.

  “Hey!” the carnie called. “You two at the top! Get on opposite sides.” Harper shivered and tried to pull away, but Sean wouldn’t let her. It was like being in trouble with a teacher. “Hey!” the carnie yelled again.

  She knew everyone must be staring at them, and that made her heart beat even faster. Sean clenched her tighter. There’s something dark in him, she thought. Soemthing more than the obvious.

  And it’s in me, too, she realized. Eating at me, bit by bit.

  Sean bit her lip, sharp. It was almost enough to draw blood. Almost.

  He released her mouth and trailed his tongue along her jaw to her neck. Instinctively, she tossed her head back to give him better access. He sucked hard. With the knowledge that he marked her, she started to pant.

  “Hey, I said knock it the fuck off!” the carnie yelled. Suddenly the wheel began to turn again.

  Sean’s hand slid up from her thigh across her torso to her breast. He pinched her nipple, hard, through the tank top and thin bra. Harper cried out. He kissed her again, softly, on the mouth. The pain was gone, and she was suddenly desperate for more.

  The carnie’s face was red as he tore open their gate, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Be a good girl now, sweetheart,” Sean whispered into her ear. When she stood up to exit, she realized her jeans were soaked with wetness.

  Harper looked around, but nobody seemed to realize they were the ones who put on a show in the night sky.

  “I better get going,” Sean said. “I’m opening the shop tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Harper nodded. That was it? What happened to the dominant guy on the wheel? You’re not even going to try to take me home?

  “But I want to see you again. Soon,” he said.

  “Okay,” she said. She sounded so much cooler, calmer than she felt. As if she didn’t really care one way or another whether he called her or not.

  Inside, Harper knew she’d do anything, whatever it took, to peer into his darkness again. It had just been a glimpse, but it was intoxicating.

  They walked side by side towards the exit. A part of her wanted him to take her hand, to treat her gently. Another part of her was turned on by his indifference. It made her want to beg for it, to offer up all kinds of parts of herself for his attention.

  “I’m this way,” he said, and nodded into the distance.

  “I’m over here,” she said.

  He nodded. “See you around,” he said.

  He didn’t even offer to walk her. She stared as he retreated until he blended into the night.

  12

  Sean

  As soon as he got off work, Sean made his way to the hospital again. His last visit with Ashton hadn’t exactly been easy, but it had opened something in him. Seeing his friend like that, calm and small, made it easier to talk. There was no judgement, no fear over what Ashton might say. Maybe this is what normal people get out of therapy.

  He walked right past the information desk to the elevator bank. A group of young doctors in short white coats sucked down coffee and talked about the Lakers game.

  On Ashton’s floor, he nodded at the nurse on duty. She eyed him up and down without any shift in her expression.

  Sean poked his head into Ashton’s room, but there was no nurse. No new patients had been added to the beds that were on either side of Ashton either. Instantly, the steady beeps of the machines soothed him. It was like a metronome he’d never knew he needed.

  “Hey, man,” he said as he sat down in the stiff chair. “How’s it going?”

  It was a ridiculous question, but who cared? It was still Ashton. Maybe the nurses were right, anyway. Maybe his friend really could hear him.

  “You’ll probably be surprised to hear I’m still hanging out with that girl I told you about. Harper. We went to the amusement park at the pier the other night.”

  He looked at Ashton, but there wasn’t even a twitch of response. But the chest rose and fell smoothly beneath the crisp white hospital linens.

  “I’m still kind of … worried, though. You know? Like, about the whole dominance thing. I don’t know, BDSM,” he said in a lower voice and glanced towards the empty doorway. “I guess that’s what it is. Hell if I know,” he said.

  He’d never spoken openly to Ashton before. They’d been college roommates, then party buddies. Even though the brotherly love between them ran deep, they’d kept conversations light. Now, Sean regretted it. Maybe if we hadn’t just been shooting the shit the whole time, the fight that night wouldn’t have happened.

  He sighed. “Most women would have run screaming by now,” he admitted. “But she’s different. She’s stuck around. I don’t have a fucking clue why.”

  Sean’s phone vibrated with a text. “Hell, Ashton, it’s Promoter Paul. You remember him?” he asked. “Shit, where did we meet him? I don’t even remember. Some club. You wanna know what it says?” he asked.

  Sean opened the text. “Sean, long time no see. Full moon party at Miss Mary’s tonight. Want me to put you down? Let me know how many.”

  “Jesus,” Sean said when he’d read the text aloud to Ashton. “Miss Mary’s. You went there before, right? First sex club I ever went to in California,” he mused. “I had no idea what to expect when I walked in there.”

  His phone vibrated again. Harper’s name filled the screen. “Wyd?” she’d texted.

  Sean drew in his breath. Should I ask her? His hesitation was brief. “Just got invited to a party,” he replied. “Interested?”

  “Sure!” she replied. “House party?”

  “At Miss Mary’s,” he replied. Would she know what that was?

  His phone was quiet for a minute, then the ellipses appeared. “I Googled it,” she said.

  Silence. His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

  “I’m down,” she added.

  Well. That was interesting. “Pick you up at nine,” he said.

  “Ashton, this is about to get interesting,” he told his friend. “I’ll see you soon, okay, bud?” he said as he got up to leave.

  As he walked towards the door, his phone vibrated again. “Is it okay if I don’t do anything with anyone else there?” Harper asked.

  He stopped in the door. That was a twist. Sure, he’d expected her to refuse to go at all. But this? Was this her way of asking to be exclusive?

  “Of course,” he replied.

  On the way to the car, he loosened the reins of his imagination. How hot would she look in wrist spreaders? Unable to use much of her upper body, her arms even paler as the blood rushed to her torso?

  He pulled up memories of Miss Mary’s from his last time there, months ago. One of the semi-private backrooms had a circular bed with vinyl black sheets and steel hoops every two feet. How would she look naked, spread eagle and bound? She’d writhe in frustration, desperate for him to make the first move.

  Sean sat in the car and ran over the possibilities. He could see her in a hand catch, her breasts forced forward while she sat on his cock, faced away towards a crowd. He’d tease her clit while she let her head drop back and begged for more. Sean thought about the crowd that would gather, how the men would get themselves off and wish they were him. The women who would beg his permission to lick and suck her nipples.

  Or there was the possibility of Harper in a Karada, the thick brown rope outlining her breasts. The lightning harness in the back with the rope threaded up her ass. He was hard as hell—and didn’t have a clue what kind of supplies he had at home.

  He raced towards
Hollywood, uncomfortable with the engorgement between his legs. But he was getting kind of used to it. It seemed he was always hard around her.

  Sean took the stairs up to his apartment, two by two. He dug through one of the unpacked boxes. There wasn’t much he could use. Some old camping rope that wasn’t nearly good enough for Harper’s perfect skin. Some old lube that he’d used solely to get himself off to old Peter Acworth films.

  “Fuck,” he said as he surveyed the meager find.

  Luckily, he lived in Hollywood. There were kink and leather stores on every corner. Sean headed back downstairs while he Googled nearby shops. One was just half a mile away.

  He circled the block to avoid passing Mission Hells. The last thing he needed was Josh to see him and try to get him to cover a shift.

  As Sean followed the directions, he pulled up Harper’s number again on a whim. “Wear a black dress,” he texted. No questions, no requests. Let’s see if she’ll take the command like a real submissive.

  If she doesn’t, he’ll have to shut the attraction down. But what if she does?

  He memorized the directions on the GPS and put the phone on airplane mode. No matter what her response, she could wait. He didn’t want to even be tempted to engage in a conversation with her.

  At the shop, the young, slender boy who worked the counter smiled at him. “Can I help you find something?” he asked.

  “Sisal ropes, knotted ends if you have them. Water-based lube, alligator—actually, no, nipple trainers—and a leather paddle. Actually, show me where your gags are, too.”

  “A man who knows what he wants,” the clerk said. “You’re going to make my job easy.”

  The boy didn’t seem old enough to be out of high school, but he knew his stuff. “Ropes, knotted, here you go,” he said. “We have a ton of water-based lube, so it depends on what you’re after. Scented and flavored, over here—”

  “Right now, no, just regular,” Sean said. “And one in travel-sized.”

  “Gotcha, I’d recommend these,” the boy said, and grabbed two bottles. “Nipple play is over here. Trainers, you said? Are they pierced?”