My Wild Stepbrother

by Kira Ward

  “Do I look like someone who’s ridden a ‘hog’ before?”

  He stood up and peered down at her, giving her the once over, leering the entire time. “You look like someone who needs a ride all right.” He chuckled and extended a hand to help her up. She slapped it away and stood up by herself.

  He closed the hood, and she grabbed her backpack before checking to see that all the doors were locked. He was already standing by his bike, watching her walk toward him with his vicious eyes. She wanted to be offended, knew she should be offended, but for some reason Grace found it oddly endearing.

  “What do I do?” she asked, looking at his gleaming motorcycle.

  “Well, I’m going to get on, and you’re going to get on behind me. Got it so far?”

  “Steele,” she said impatiently. She was tired, hungry, and all she wanted to do was get home.

  “Okay, okay,” he continued, not fazed by her impatience in the least. “After you get on, you’re going to hold onto me really, really tightly, and we’ll see what happens from there.”

  He grinned and sat on the bike, nodding for her to follow. She slid onto the seat, glad she’d chosen the cords instead of a skirt. She certainly hadn’t planned on clinging to his waist the way that he joked, but the minute he shifted the bike from its kickstand and revved the engine, she did just that.

  His stomach was flat and firm as she wrapped her arms around, feeling it throb and flex as he peeled away from the breakdown lane, leaving her car in his dust – literally. Steele roared into traffic, making Grace cling to him more tightly, the motorcycle vibrating beneath her in a most invigorating way.

  She was breathless from the suddenness of the speed, and her heart pounded. She heard laughing and paused, realizing it was her. The summer wind whipped through her hair and made her lean into Steele’s broad back, his shirt smelling like sweat, cologne, and smoke - not in a bad way either.

  While he sped through traffic racing and rocketing through town, Grace clung to him and felt the flood of emotions that passed through her body. She knew it was wrong even as she felt it, but wow… clinging to Steele made her horny as hell.

  Maybe it was the wind in her hair, the roar of the engine, the vibration of the leather seat between her thighs, or the flexing of Steele’s hard, flat abs beneath her fingertips, but Grace could feel the desire welling from deep inside her, aching to be set free.

  Grace had been a bit of a prude growing up. Though she knew her stuff and had been on many dates, none of them ended in sex or relationships. She had focused mostly on school and fitness, and after high school even dating dried up. There weren’t a ton of guys in her graphic design classes, and she wasn’t interested in the ones that were. She had a part-time job at a local used CD store, just for kicking around money, but the guys who come in there were mostly older dudes who weren’t too happy about her lack of 80s hair metal bands.

  Without saying, she wasn’t getting any outside of internet porn and the lifelike rubber dildo she’d ordered online, had shipped overnight, and waited for anxiously by the door to make sure she answered it before her mother or, God forbid, her stepfather did.

  But the porn and the dildo paled in comparison to the way her own throttle was revving as she clung to her sexy, older stepbrother. The one she didn’t even know she had until earlier that morning.

  Too soon the revving and the racing stopped, and the motorcycle slowed to a crawl. Grace had been so lost in her rapturous thoughts that she’d just assumed they were racing toward the mansion on familiar streets. Instead she peeled her face from the back of Steele’s T-shirt to find that they had pulled up in front of a bar. And not just any bar but a small dive bar.

  “The hell is this place?” she asked as Steele swung his leg out to put down the kickstand. He helped her off the bike until they stood face to face in the gravel parking lot of a place called Spike’s.

  “You’ve never been here?” he asked.

  “Uh, why would I?”

  “Uh, because they have the coldest beer and hottest wings in all of Texas.” As if on cue her stomach rumbled, and he laughed at the sound.

  “Uh, I hate wings, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m only nineteen.”

  “Uh, you’ll love these wings, and in case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly Hooters. They haven’t carded anyone since they opened in 1950 whenever. Trust me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I used to get drunk here every weekend in high school,” he bragged, back to his old, cocky self. “Besides, I’m doing a gig here this weekend, and they owe me one.”

  “You’re playing here?” she asked.

  “No shit.” He winked. “And if you’re good, I might even invite you as my special V.I.P.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  He reached for her backpack, and she pulled away until he explained, “I’m trying to pass you off, okay? You can’t be wearing your Hello Kitty shit when we go in.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Spike’s was dim, noisy and smelly, but not without its charms. The wooden floors were creaky, and an old jukebox in the corner played classic rock at a tolerable level. Winking Christmas lights surrounded framed posters of the bands who had played there in the past, and there were pool tables in the back with a dance floor in front of a low stage.

  “Find us a seat,” Steele ordered as Grace’s heart thumped with another new experience, “And I’ll grab us some refreshments.”

  She picked a dark booth in the corner, and sank into a scarred leather seat. There were a few people seated at the bar, most drinking alone, most older, looking like bikers in their leather pants and black vests.

  “Nice choice,” he said, reappearing shortly and nodding toward a framed poster on the wall.

  “Oh wow,” she chuckled, seeing her stepbrother’s face beaming out from a picture of his brand. “I… it was totally random.”

  “Sure it was,” he teased, sliding a pitcher of beer and two glasses onto the table.

  “You scored?”

  “Jesus, you act like we’re in some sort of spy movie. Haven’t you ever had beer before?”

  “Yeah, at a house party once, and when your Dad takes my Mom out and forgets to lock his precious liquor cabinet. But never in a bar during daylight hours.”

  “See there?” he bragged, pouring their drinks. “One more thing you can cross off your bucket list today.”

  Grace had to admit that he had a point. She sipped the beer and sighed. It was cold, crisp, and after being stranded on the side of the road for an hour in the Texas heat, went down smooth and refreshing.

  Whatever it was or wasn’t, Spike’s bar was cool, and the beer was cooler. Steele looked at her with that curious expression. “Why do you always look at me like that?” she asked.

  “Just trying to get used to the fact that we’re related is all.”

  “We’re not related,” she snorted, taking another sip of beer.

  He shrugged. “To some degree we are,” he sassed her playfully, making her laugh in spite of himself. For someone so hard on the outside, he had a playful, almost lovable side as well.

  “Jeez,” she groaned. “Okay, so today we might be related- sorta, but the way I see it your dad will just find another new model soon, and then… where will we be?”

  “Not likely,” Steele said. “His last three wives took him for most of his fortune, and he’s not going to risk it by divorcing a fourth.”

  “Really?” Grace asked.

  “Don’t get me wrong. Dude’s still loaded but not quite the billionaire he used to be. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He shrugged. “I’m meeting with Dad’s lawyers about my trust fund.”

  “Funny,” Grace mused. “You don’t look like a trust fund baby.”

  “That’s just it,” Steele said. “I was supposed to get the bulk of my trust when I turned eighteen, then nineteen, then twenty. Now that I’m turning twenty-one Dad wants to push it b
ack again.”

  “Why?”

  “The interest,” he said. “When you’re talking Dad’s kind of money, an extra year of holding onto his fortune is basically another fortune.”

  She sighed. “Must be a nice problem to have.”

  “You’ll have it too one day, Grace,” he said, and the way her name slide out of his mouth sent shivers down her spine.

  “That’s news to me.”

  “Not to me. I have to approve all of the stepchildren’s trusts. Yours is in there somewhere, trust me.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “I’m not my mom,” she huffed. “I didn’t get in this for the money.”

  “Did you ever consider that your mom didn’t either?”

  “Oh, I know she loves your Dad,” Grace reasoned, “but I’m sure the money didn’t hurt.”

  “It never does.”

  “I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

  He nodded. “I don’t want you to get hurt either, Grace.”

  She was peering back at him, wondering what that meant, when a bartender arrived, apron dirty, head bald, a basket of wings in his hand, and a smile on his face. “You didn’t tell me you had girlfriend, Steele,” he said, voice gravelly from a thousand or more cigarettes a day.

  “This is my sister. Grace, this is Spike.” Steele said with a grin.

  Grace smiled nervously and shook Spike’s hand. “Nice to meet you darlin’. Been knowing your brother for quite some time. Hope you’re going to come join us this weekend and hear him scream. Or as I call it, shimmy and holler!”

  Spike shuffled back to the bar, chuckling the whole while.

  “Shimmy and holler, huh?”

  Steele shrugged as he grabbed hold of a wing. “Spike was the one who gave Steele Falcon its first gig. I have much love in my heart for that old fart.”

  “You?” Grace asked. “Love in your heart?”

  “Hey,” he said, lips looking full, juicy, and slimy from the wing sauce. “I’ve got plenty of love in this heart. You need to quit judging a book by its cover.”

  “It’s not just your cover, playboy,” she reminded him. “It’s your attitude, remember?”

  He laughed as he reached for another wing to devour. “Maybe we can help each other, sis. First-”

  “You can start by never calling me that again,” she interrupted, waving a drumstick in his general direction.

  He held up two greasy hands in surrender. “Sure thing, not-my-sis. But maybe we can help each other.”

  “How? Ever?” she asked as she washed down a bite of chicken with her beer. “In what universe?”

  “You help me calm down,” he said, “and I’ll help you lighten up.”

  “I’m pretty light,” she snorted, wiping her hands and pouring them both more beer. “Look at me, Steele. I’m underage drinking in a dive bar in the middle of the day.”

  “I’ll admit, it’s a start,” he said with a grin.

  He sipped his beer, never taking his eyes off of her. Something had changed in those eyes. From the flash of anger that morning, to his cheerful leering by the roadside, to the harmful flirtation that had talked her into Spike’s in the first, place… Steele now looked at her differently, more intently perhaps, longer, and with certainty.

  “Deal?” he asked, raising a glass. When she made a question mark with her eyes he said, “You help me knock this chip off my shoulders, and I’ll help you pull that stick of out of your ass!”

  She laughed, but clinked glasses anyway. She had a few more wings, but shoved the basket over so he could finish them. The beer was fattening enough, and she had always been conscious of her figure. They drank and chatted more while she watched him finished up the wings.

  He fingers were long, slim, tempting, and he wore rings on most of them. He caught her looking and smirked his sexy smirk. The look in his eyes lingered until she grew uncomfortable under his gaze. “What?” she asked as he reached for his wallet. “Why do you look at me like that?”

  He put money down for the tab and shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, less cockily than usual. “I’m wishing you weren’t my stepsister is all.”

  “That’s nice,” she spat. “I thought we were trying to be friends and get over all that.”

  “That’s just it,” he said. “You’re too pretty to be my friend, and you’re too sexy to be my sister. I’m having all kinds of wrong thoughts and…”

  “Okay,” she said, planting her hands on the tale and pushing herself up. “Time to go.”

  He followed her out of the bar, both of them waving at Spike as they lingered in the entrance. She could feel the darkness outside and knew they had lingered too long in the bar. The wings were gone and so was the beer, but it was the temptation that burned the most. He brushed against her, reaching for the door, and she lingered near his arm, desperate for his touch.

  He sensed her hidden feelings and took his time opening the door, until they both tumbled out into the stillness of another hot Texas summer night. The parking lot was full but quiet as they walked toward his bike.

  Their feet crunched on the gravel, and in the stillness of the night they lingered. “Thanks for fancy dinner,” she teased, watching him watch her.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said, making no move to get on his bike.

  She nodded, knowing they were standing too close. “You’re not going to believe this,” she told him, “but… I had a really nice time.”

  “Me too,” he said, reaching to brush a lock of long blonde hair from her face.

  His fingers glanced along her cheek, and she shivered with delight, wishing he would just get on the bike and turn his back to her before something crazy happened. He paused, and as if reading her mind, he did just that.

  As she climbed on behind him, shamelessly clinging to his washboard abs, Grace couldn’t remember ever feeling so disappointed.

  Chapter 4

  Grace went to class Saturday afternoon, determined to skip Steele’s concert at Spike’s later that night. Since their “date” at the dive bar, she had somehow managed to avoid any further temptation. The car got towed to a shop, and she was busy haggling with the mechanic and getting rides to and from the shop – rides that didn’t involve sexy, handsome, alluring stepbrothers, and for his part, Steele had been secretive and aloof.

  As she sat in her last class of the day, Concepts in Design, Grace had little patience for the tedious lecture. She wouldn’t have even been in class if she hadn’t been trying to double up on credits over the summer and get out of the house as often as possible. And now images of her wild, tattooed, bad-boy stepbrother kept battling with her higher learning.

  She was glad when the class got out, and she could finally swing by the quad, ordering coffee and a bagel at the Campus Café and eating them slowly on a bench. Campus was deserted this hour, the Café closing shortly after she had placed her order. She watched the baristas drift away in the sunset, chattering about the evening’s plans, shoulder to shoulder with their black and green uniforms still on.

  Grace was killing time, in no rush to head home and spend the night listening to her mom and stepdad canoodle in the living room over warm brie and cold duck. The temptation was growing to drift out to Spike’s and try her fake ID, while pretending to ignore her sexy stepbrother and his rock and roll band.

  She’d lost most of her friends in the move to Egret Lane, and what few she’d had left already left to go to distant colleges. Like her, they’d been overachievers who’d chosen to stay on at their far flung campuses rather than come home and hang with her all summer. Now she spent most of her days in or out of class, in or out of the house, mostly on her own.

  She sighed and scrolled through the movie ticket app on her phone, thinking a solo movie might be in order. There wasn’t much to see, but she figured a bucket of popcorn and some red vines were better than going home so soon.

  She finished her bagel and tossed the napkin in the trash on the way back to the student parking lot. There was a flyer
on her window, and she was reaching to tear it off when she recognized the picture on the lime green paper as none other than her stepbrother’s. It was a flyer for Steele Falcon’s concert tonight.

  Grace resisted the urge to crumple it, and instead left it on the passenger seat as she drove away from school. Smirking to herself, she turned right toward Spike’s, instead of left toward the movie theater, and in doing so gave in to the swirl of excitement that had been fluttering around in her belly all day.

  Chapter 5

  Spike’s gravel parking lot was crowded, but having been there with Steele she found a space in the corner where they’d parked the other day. Before she even got out of the car, Grace could hear the squeal of guitar and pounding of drums through the thin concrete wall of the bar’s greasy spoon, making her curious to what Steele’s band might sound like.

  There was a bouncer at the door who looked nothing like a bouncer and more like some high school kid that Spike had hired over the internet. “Five bucks,” he said listlessly, hardly looking up from the cell phone on his right thigh.

  She paid, and he pulled his head up more attentively with a devious smirk. “Ten bucks,” he switched. “That is, unless you want me to check your ID.”

  She grumbled and handing him an extra five. “Nice shakedown, kid.”

  He stamped her hand with a blurry image of a falcon and seemed to take her remark as a compliment, beaming as he bent back to his phone. She chuckled and walked inside, finding a small but lively crowd as she eased her way to the main bar.

  “Back for more, eh?” Spike chuckled as she ordered up a beer.

  She shrugged and smiled. “Hard to resist a band called Steele Falcon.”

  Spike nodded and peered out at the fifty or so people crowded around the makeshift stage at the back of the bar. “Other people feel the same,” he shouted over the music. “He’s gotten so much better since the first time he played here.”

  “Really?” Grace asked, ears already pounding from the racket.

  “Go see for yourself,” he insisted, waving her away playfully with a bar rag of questionable origin.