Stepbrother Bastard

by Colleen Masters

  “Is that what you want?” Cash asks, leaning into me as his hand moves slowly higher on my thigh.

  “I…Well…” I stammer, savoring the feel of his fingers brushing against my thigh through the denim.

  “You’re blushing,” he tells me, eyes gleaming with serious want. Up and up his hand strays, moving closer to that throbbing place between my legs. I have to swallow hard to keep from moaning, his hands feel so good on me.

  “No kidding, I’m blushing,” I breathe, “How are you not?”

  “I’m just better at hiding it than you,” he smiles. But he sets all joking aside the very next moment, stilling his hand just before it brushes against my sex. “Listen Maddie,” he goes on, “I know we’ve been kidding around all night, but if you’re not into this, or you’ve had too much to drink, or—”

  “I haven’t,” I say hurriedly, “I mean, I am…into it.”

  “I need you to be one hundred percent sure,” he says firmly, lifting his hands away from my body, “Especially if you’ve never had a one-off before. Hell, I’m not even sure if you could handle me, even just for a night.”

  I laugh, though my body is crying out for his touch. “I’m pretty sure I’d be able to handle you just fine, Hawthorne.”

  “Maybe,” he shrugs, turning slightly away from me. “But I’m telling you right now, pretty sure isn’t gonna cut it for me.”

  He’s giving me an out. I can get up and walk away right now if I want to, no strings, no hard feelings. And every other day of my life leading up to this, with every other guy I’ve ever met, that’s exactly what I’d do. But today, Cash is sitting in front of me. His scruffy, cut jaw pulsing as he bites back his want of me. His hazel eyes burning with both need and the restraint of it. His strong, expert hands resting resolutely on his knees, when they should be exploring every inch of me.

  “Fuck it,” I mutter fiercely, taking his sculpted face in my hands and closing the space between us.

  In the second that it takes for me to bring my mouth to his, he’s raced up to meet me in the moment. He catches my lips in his, as I open my mouth to him. The full firmness of his lips nearly takes my breath away. I wrap my arms behind his neck, steadying myself against him, as his tongue glides against mine. The taste of him dances across my tongue, and I’m drunker off him in a second, than I’ve managed to get all night. I take his bottom lip between my teeth, biting gently down. A low, soft groan rumbles at the very core of him, so deep that I can feel it where we connect at the mouth.

  “How’s that for one hundred percent sure?” I breathe, pulling back to train my blue eyes on him.

  “Yeah. That’ll do,” he growls, his arms circling my slender waist.

  It’s only then, that I notice the catcalls rising up from the back of the bar. The group of bikers clustered around the pool table started cheering us on as we locked lips, and they have all kinds of dirty suggestions as to what we should do now.

  “We seem to have an audience,” I murmur.

  “I’m not sure I should drive back to my place, after this many rounds…” Cash says, gritting his teeth. “But dammit, I’ll carry you back if I have to.”

  I let my hands trail down his body, unthinking. They run over the firm panes of his chest, the perfect line of abs, and onward. Suddenly, I feel my fingertips brush against a staggering new development. I glance down, eyes widening as I take in the bulging length, threatening to tear straight through his jeans. That does it.

  “I’m staying at the motel next door,” I breathe, eyes locked on his.

  “Why the hell didn’t you say so?” he breathes, his voice husky with lust.

  I stand up from my barstool, barely able to remain upright from the throbbing between my legs. As casually as possible, I lace my fingers through Cash’s and pull him to standing. He plays along with my nonchalance, draping an arm across my shoulders as we turn to go. As the bikers start roaring their approval, we glance in unison over our shoulders and each give them the finger with our free hands. Our synchronized bird-flipping makes us whip around to face each other, smiling like a couple of lunatics. If our bodies are already this synced up, that bodes pretty well for the rest of the evening.

  The second the bar door swings shut behind us, Cash’s powerful hands grab hold of my hips. He swings me around and presses me up against the brick wall of the bar, kissing me hard as he holds me pinned there. I gasp as he shifts his hips, letting me feel his rigid cock right against my aching slit. Our tongues tangle as I bury my fingers in his thick, dark curls. The brick is rough against my bare shoulders, but I couldn’t give less of a damn.

  “Goddammit…” Cash rasps, brushing a lock of hair away from my face as he looks down at me in the red neon light. “I’ve wanted to do that from the second I laid eyes on you.”

  “Really?” I breathe, “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “Like I said, I know how to hide things better than you,” he smiles, running his hands down my sides as he brings his lips to my neck.

  I let my head fall back against the brick as he kisses deeply along my throat, dizzy with needing to feel more of him.

  “Come on, Hawthorne,” I urge with a grin, breaking away across the gravel, “Before the crazy motel biddy sees us.”

  “I’m not even gonna ask what the hell you’re talking about,” Cash says, taking off after me across the lot.

  I dash out ahead of him, feeling for the world like I’m sixteen years old again. How can something so illicit feel so light, so easy? Cash catches up to me in no time, ducking down and scooping me into a fireman’s carry.

  “Cash!” I cry out, “What—?”

  “Army training. What can I tell you?” he laughs, racing toward the motel. “This pretty damn near feels like a life or death situation, after all…”

  He skids to a stop just outside my door and sets me upright as I fumble for my keycard. I can barely get the thing in, my hands are trembling so hard. But the second that lock clicks open, we tumble through the doorway and slam it shut on the rest of the world. Our hands find each other’s bodies in the near pitch-blackness, lifting off layers of clothing as we stagger across the unfamiliar room.

  I feel my feet go out from under me as I trip over my huge suitcase. The bed rises up to meet me as I fall, bringing Cash down on top of me. We laugh through kissing at the slapstick moment, but soon the only sound I can make is a low, shuddering moan. I fall back against the mattress, wearing nothing but my panties as Cash kneels over me. That same neon glow flashes against his bare skin, illuminating every perfectly cut muscle. Every line of ink. And as he tugs down his black briefs, I finally catch a glimpse of his staggering, irresistible cock.

  “You know something?” I gasp, reaching to run my hands along that hard, pulsating length. “I think I could get used to this one night stand thing…”

  But my words cut out as he slips my panties down over the rise of my ass and lowers himself to me.

  “Maddie,” he rasps, “I’m gonna make you wish for a whole lot more than one night…”

  I let my knees fall apart, opening myself to him. I can feel the swollen tip of him pressed flush against my wetness. I’m holding onto his broad, muscled shoulders for dear life, craving the feel of him deep inside me. But instead of driving his cock into my very core, he starts kissing along my neck, between my breasts, over the valley of my taut stomach, further and further down, until—

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” I gasp, raking my fingers along his back as I feel his warm breath against my slick sex.

  “Told you,” he growls in the dizzying darkness—his last words before I feel his expert tongue running along the length of me.

  If this is what random hookups are like, I think in my blissful delight, I’ll stick to them for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning…

  “Shit, shit…” I mutter, as my phone begins chirping incessantly from the other room.

  Still clutching the tangled motel sheet to my
naked body, I dart out of the bathroom and snatch up the noisy device. I'd totally forgotten that I set an early alarm. Blinking blearily at the bright screen, I hurry to silence the thing before it wakes up my unexpected roommate.

  I hold my breath as Cash rolls onto his back on the narrow bed, but his own breathing remains slow and shallow. He’s still fast asleep. My gaze is arrested as I catch sight of him in the early morning light. Try as I might, I can’t look away from the rise and fall of his sculpted, ink-covered chest. Two rows of perfectly formed abs roll like hills along his torso, giving way to the muscular “V” of his waist. And just below that…

  “Oh my god,” I squeak in a whisper, my eyes going wide at the sight of his prodigious morning wood, holding up the motel comforter like a tent pole. “Oh my god, oh my god…”

  I dash back into the bathroom and close the door behind me, chest rising and falling like mad. The full weight of what happened between me and Cash last night is finally hitting me. This is far from the first time I’ve slept with someone, but it is the first time for multiple other things. Or rather, multiples of one very wonderful thing. Why didn’t anyone tell me sex could be like that? I would have been having much more of it this whole time! With, admittedly, far more skillful partners.

  My cell buzzes in my hand, and I glance down to see that I have a new text from Allie.

  Allie: Miss you already! Good luck on your mission xx

  I swallow a laugh and text back.

  Me: Too late ;)

  Allie pounces on the bait at once…

  Allie: What do you mean, too late???

  With my heart lodged in my throat, I peek around the bathroom door. Cash Hawthorne is still fast asleep in my bed. Allie will never believe that I’ve actually spent the night with him…unless I offer her some proof. I raise my phone and snap a pic of his slumbering form. Not exactly good morning-after etiquette, I know, but I can always plead ignorance of the one night stand rules of engagement if pressed. I send the pic to Allie in a message, and receive an immediate, and exuberant, reply.

  Allie: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Me: Yep. Mission accomplished :)

  Allie: I’ve never been so proud of you. Ever.

  Me: Thanks? I think?

  Allie: Who is he?!

  Me: Oh, just some handsome stranger I picked up at the bar last night…

  Allie: STFU WHO ARE YOU EVEN

  Me: I don’t know what to tell you, lady.

  Allie: Oh, only EVERY SINGLE DETAIL.

  Me: I will, just as soon as I figure out what to do about the babe in my bed.

  Allie: I have a few suggestions…

  Me: Oh, I’m sure. Talk to you soon, you terrible influence.

  Allie: Love you! Have good sex!

  I shake my head at the phone and creep back into the motel room proper. As quietly as I can, I weed my clothes out from Cash’s and slip back into them. My plan was to get on the road first thing in the morning today. I wasn’t expecting to factor a little morning-after discussion into the schedule.

  My stomach flips as I try and figure out what I should even say to Cash before I go. “Thanks for the awesome fuck, see you never”? “Gotta go, have a nice life with your incredible cock”? Nothing I can think of quite does the trick. Maybe I should just duck out before he wakes up and spare us both the moment of awkwardness? I’m sure I’ll just say the wrong thing and ruin what was an incredible night. What I really want is to see him again, but I can’t tell him that. I’ll just seem needy and clingy—anathema to a lone wolf type like him, I’m sure. One thing is certain—I need to decide on a course of action before my gorgeous bedmate wakes up.

  Before I can overthink this any further, I grab the complementary notepad and pen from the bedside table and scrawl the first thing that comes to mind:

  Cash—It was wonderful to meet you. Take care. MP

  And with that, I grab my suitcase and head for the door. I grant myself one last look at Cash Hawthorne’s gorgeous sleeping face before going. I don’t know much about one night stands, but I know there’s no way I should be feeling this attached to mine. Maybe I should stay after all? Grab some coffee with him, trade numbers?

  No, I think resolutely, forcing myself out the door, Leave it be, Maddie. Don’t try to make this into something it’s not. It’ll just hurt when he doesn’t feel the same way.

  I slide my keycard into the drop box outside the office, hurrying away before the blue-haired sentry reappears. The last thing I want to do is explain to her why housekeeping is going to find a man among my bedsheets later today.

  My sex-scrambled brain gets turned around more than once on the second leg of my road trip, adding four whole hours onto my drive. By the time I get my bearings and turn onto the long, dusty road leading off to the address my mother provided me, it’s late in the day. My stomach cramps with hunger and my hangover pounds away at my skull. At least my physical discomfort distracts me from the curious pangs that keep tugging at my heartstrings. It must just be because I’m unused to sex outside of a relationship, but I already feel myself starting to miss Cash…which is insane, I know. Not to mention lame as hell. But what’s a girl to do?

  I steer my ancient Honda down the winding road as tall, leafy trees arch overhead. I’ve never seen this alleged lake house before, or even visited my mom’s old hometown. I have no idea what to expect…but it’s definitely not what’s actually waiting around the bend, that’s for damn sure.

  My jaw falls open as a huge, gorgeously built home appears in my field of vision. A wide, shaded veranda encircles the three-story wooden home, and the turquoise blue water of a pristine lake filters through the tree line behind it. A sprawling lawn has been cleared around the house, dotted with vegetable and flower gardens, bocce and badminton courts, and a hot tub and outdoor shower. Green shutters and dark stained wood lend an air of gravity and class to the rustic paradise—all told, this place is absolutely incredible.

  The only question is…what the hell is my mom doing, renting out a palace like this? She doesn’t exactly rake in the dough as an artist. Something’s off, here.

  I spot a few cars lining the driveway and park mine behind them, filling my lungs with crisp lake air as I step outside. Blinking into the bright, dappled sunlight, I make my way toward the front door of the impressive house, climbing the flight of wooden steps that lead up to the porch. I’m just about to close my fingers around the doorknob, when a flutter of motion catches the corner of my eye.

  “Jesus Christ!” I yelp, falling back against the door. A lithe, contorted body is pretzeled there on the porch, halfway hidden by the shadow of the house. And upon second glance, I see that it’s a very familiar pretzel, indeed. “Sophie, you scared the shit out of me,” I gasp.

  “Oh. Hey, Maddie,” replies my middle sister, glancing up at me from her elaborate posture. “One sec, I’m just finishing up my practice.”

  “What are you practicing, exactly?” I ask her, cocking my head, “How to fit a corpse into a suitcase?”

  She untangles her limbs with a sigh, and comes to sitting on a muted red mat. Her wavy caramel blonde hair is pulled into a bun, her long limbs glistening with the exertion of her exercise. I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious of my smeared makeup and slouchy clothes—but that’s always sort of the effect that the effortlessly gorgeous Sophie has on me.

  “It’s yoga, Maddie,” she says now, already bored with me, “Surely you’ve heard of it.”

  And just like that, my little sister and I are off to a shaky start. As per usual. Sophia has always been the most serious Porter sister, and my constant efforts to lighten the mood only ever seem to make things worse. And what with my pounding hangover and baffled heart, I can’t really muster up the energy to keep our interaction sunny.

  “Did you know this place was going to be a mansion?” I ask her, crossing my arms, “There’s no way Mom can be affording this easily.”

  “Since when has Mom ever bothered
to run anything past us?” Sophie shrugs, rolling up her mat. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

  My mouth turns down at the corners. Why am I always the only one worrying about the big picture around here? I’m about to keep pressing for details when a flutter of ash blonde hair—nearly white in its lightness—appears between the trees at the edge of the yard, catching my eye. Speaking of pictures…

  “Is that Anna?” I ask Sophie, squinting across the grassy expanse.

  “Who else?” she replies, following my gaze in the direction of our youngest sister. “She’s been wandering around the woods with her camera for hours. I don’t think she’s said three words all morning.”

  “Sounds about right,” I say, watching as Annabel’s willowy form crouches down to snap a shot of some Queen Anne’s Lace. Of all us Porter women, Anna’s the quietest. In fact, I’d say she’s the only quiet one among us. It isn’t that she’s shy, necessarily—just a girl of few words.

  “Hey, Annie Leibowitz!” Sophie calls, shattering the serene afternoon silence, “Look who’s finally here!”

  Anna looks up with her enormous blue eyes, looking for the world like a startled deer. Sometimes I think she forgets the rest of the world exists when she’s peering through her camera lens. She turns and lopes toward us across the yard, a placid smile on her face.

  “Hi Maddie,” she says, climbing the porch steps two at a time. Her pale legs go on for miles. When did she go from being my scrappy, scabby-kneed little sister to a grown woman? “Did you get lost or something? The day’s half gone.”

  “Probably just dragged her feet all the way here,” Sophie mutters, “Not that I blame you.”

  “Uh-huh,” I reply, refusing to engage in her bantering. I’m here because Mom asked me to come, and because my bosses forced me to finally take my saved-up vacation days, not to bicker with my little sisters for two weeks.