Stepbrother Temptation: First Time

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by Lawless, Anita


  “Sure.” Hunter shrugged and avoided her eyes. His face and body were tense with anger. Then before he could continue, his cell phone rang. He seemed relieved for the interruption, snatching it up and answering quickly as he moved to the other end of the bedroom.

  He spoke in hushed tones, and she bit her lip as she watched him. Hunter was the calmer of the two twins, and also the shy one. He wasn’t the lothario his brother was, mostly due to his withdrawn nature. Hunter didn’t see himself as some gorgeous stud. Whereas Shane was confident about his sexual nature, Hunter tried to downplay his. Mickie could relate to Hunter’s quiet, reserved disposition more, but she admitted she’d always been intrigued by her rock star brother’s flash and swagger.

  But it had been Hunter, four years ago, who’d seduced her first. No, she’d seduced him as much as he had her. She had been as willing a participant as him.

  It was the night of Hunter’s grad. He’d decided against the prom, saying it just wasn’t his thing. But after a beer and a spliff she’d smuggled from their dad’s secret stash, he’d revealed he didn’t ask anyone to go. He just couldn’t work up the courage. So Mickie had pulled him off the floor and told him she’d go with him.

  “You can’t miss your prom, Hunter,” she’d told him, and she’d fished his old tux out of his closet. The last time he’d worn it was to the wedding of his dad and her mom, when he was fifteen.

  “It’s a little tight,” he’d said, frowning at the way the jacket molded to his biceps.

  Mickie hadn’t complained. It’s snugness outline the curve of his pecs nicely, showed off the way his waist tapered into a muscular ass and sculpted thighs.

  “It looks fine,” she’d told him, but they never made it to his graduation dance. He’d asked her for a dance after she changed into a slinky red slip dress, stole a kiss, and they’d ended up in the same position as she and Shane, only there had been no one to stop their party.

  Hunter pushed END on his phone and gave her a brief look with those icy blue eyes. They still glimmered with anger. “I have to go.” He brushed past her and unlocked the door. “Someone needs me.”

  ***

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  He ensnared my wrists, stopping me before I could coil my hand around his impressive erection. “Wait? What? My overly analytical sister doesn’t care about why I’m working at a sex club? Two days ago, you nearly took the top of my foot off because you thought I was boning Addy.” He gave me a suspicious look. “What’s up, Mary? It’s not like you to play head games. At least, not with anyone but yourself.”

  I freed my hand from his grip, perched beside him on the bed, and slowly twined my fingers around his dick. “I’ve just decided to not over think things.” As I bobbed my hand up and down, I clenched and released my slippery grip, loving the feel of his penis twitching beneath my touch. “Now, can we talk about this later?”

  He sat up while I still stroked him, gave an exaggerated look of concern, and felt my forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

  This annoyed me, only because he wasn’t reacting to the enthusiastic hand job I was giving him. I spit in my other hand to lube it up, then went to worked stroking his balls. Now he gave a little moan and laid back.

  “Like I said, we’ll talk about it later.”

  His voice thick with lust, he stopped me again, just as I had the tip of my pink tongue poised above his purple cock head. “Wait. I…I want to get this off my chest.”

  I gave a huge sigh. “Do not have a crisis of conscience now, Shamus, please.” I gripped him tightly then slowly slipped my hand from base to tip. I teased the hole with my thumb, then ran my hand over his fat dick head, getting all my fingers slippery with his pre-cum. The sensation lube, I thought, had to be working its magic by now, and I really wished he’d quit resisting. I wanted to watch him cum hard then fuck him before he left for work.

  But he stopped me again and sat up, giving me a look that was almost annoyed. How come he could distract me with sex, but I couldn’t do the same to him? I wanted to make a jab about being contradictory, but I held it back.

  “Just let me give you a brief rundown—”

  “Why is this suddenly so important to you?” I went for his cock once more, but he ensnared both my wrists this time, holding me off. “It isn’t like you to turn down a blow job. Who’s the sick one here?”

  He acted as if he ignored me, and gave me a firm, steely-eyed stare. “A brief rundown, that’s all. Then you can get back to honoring your bet.” The wicked grin returned momentarily.

  “Fine.” I huffed. “Sock it to me.”

  “I’m not really working at the sex club. I mean, I don’t need the money. The garage does just fine. Dad always ran it well, and since he sold the other three, he’s squirreled away a nice nest egg. But…well…you remember that guy I punched the other night?”

  “Roscoe?”

  He nodded. “He owed me money for work I did on his BMW. But the cheap prick refused to pay, after Daddy bought him a new Porsche. That’s when I decided the BMW’s trunk was fair game.” His grin further widened. “What I found inside granted me a ticket into that sex club.”

  “Sounds tawdry.” I raised an eyebrow, wishing he’d let go of my wrists so I could get back to his dick, but he continued on, with me pinned.

  “Guess what I found?” His eyes sparkled like a mischievous boy’s. Every now and again, my step brother loved to play these silly games of intrigue. I went along with him, but I thought his timing sucked.

  “What did you find?” I couldn’t fake enthusiasm for his story.

  “Guess!”

  “Fine. A box of bootlegged animal porn.”

  He shook his head and gave a annoyed huff. “You’re not even trying.” Then he waggled his eyebrows. “Nope, I found a mountain of snow, love. A mountain.”

  “Damn. Roscoe forgot his coke. That’s not smart.”

  Shamus gave a self-satisfied nod and smirk. “I threatened to tell his daddy about the little slip up, unless I got to speak to the big honcho himself. See, I’ve been eyeing that club as an investment for a while. Heard from good sources it was a profitable place.” He shrugged. “Not surprised. Anyway, Roscoe’s old man wouldn’t see me. Likes to keep all business in the family or through trusted contacts, and apparently he hates the Irish.”

  I rolled my eyes at this. “You’re kidding. What’s he got against the Irish?”

  Shamus shrugged once more. “Not sure. People have their prejudices.”

  “True enough.” I looked down at my hands. “You’re cutting off my circulation.”

  He went to release me, then stopped. “If I let you go, will you behave?”

  “For now.”

  “So,” he said, watching my hands until I folded them neatly in my lap. “I used Roscoe’s flub to get an in with his dad and check out the club. Taste its clientele, if you will. Roscoe put in a few good words, and there you have it.”

  “What did you do with his coke?” Admittedly, I was a bit intrigued now. I felt like I’d walked into one of those daytime soaps.

  “Returned it to him for the in he gave me, once I was certain he couldn’t go back on our deal.” Shamus definitely looked like the cat who’d swallowed a plump canary. “Guy hates me. See, Tommy was with me when I made the discovery. We took snaps. I got a witness and photographic evidence, in case Roscoe ever feels like backstabbing me.”

  “Look at you.” I fanned myself. “All sex and mystery.”

  He chuckled, but then his face went serious. “Lately, though, I’ve been considerin
g quitting the club. Maybe I’ll still invest—”

  “Wait.” I touched his shoulder. “Why would you quit?”

  His face reddened. He looked from me to the quilt, then back again. “Well…”

  “This?” I pointed between him and I.” “Us?” I giggled. “Oh, please, Shamus. Didn’t I just say I wasn’t overstressing about our … situation anymore?”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look as relieved as I’d expected. His lips remained in a tight, serious line.

  “Keep up with the club,” I said, sliding my fingers from his shoulder, down his chest. “What’s the big deal if we see other people? It’s not like either of us are looking for anything serious. You know I’m not into that domestic bliss scene. Just isn’t me.”

  “Yeah,” he said, smiling again, but it appeared a weak effort. “Me either.”

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  Anita Lawless is a bestselling erotic romance and erotica author who writes in a variety of sub-genres, including BDSM, contemporary, taboo, and more. Her stories are filled with bad boys, rock stars, decadent billionaires, and sassy strong women. She is a writer with, and publisher of, the Wild & Lawless Writers. Drop her an email at: [email protected] . She loves hearing from her readers!

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