Romance: My Stepbrother's Plaything

by Valentine, Annie

  This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to the seller and purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Warning

  This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.

  If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.

  Chapter One

  Summer’s clean white tennies scuffed the loose gravel on the shoulder of the road as she marched as far and fast as she could from her mother and father’s house. She was so tired of living under their thumb. Living under their tight reign. She was eighteen. That made her an adult in the eyes of the law. She didn’t need to live under the government’s rule and her parents.

  The fight was she had with her parents was that she wanted to move out. She wanted to skip the college path and go straight to work. Get her own place. Be her own person. Her parents had not allowed Summer to even get a part time job while in high school, which she had graduated from with straight As. So she had to rely on their allowance even. And in light of the threat that she was not going to fulfill their dream of going to school, her parents promised to cut her off financially. They were going to bend her to their will.

  Luckily she had ten dollars burning a hole in her pocket. Summer was about five minutes’ walk till she got to Rowdy’s, a restaurant/bar where she had so hoped to get a job. The lights of the bar glowed like butterscotch in the inky night. Every so often, as she made her way forward, a belly laugh cut the sky. People were having a good time. It was pretty late for a job application but Summer could not wait. She was going to see if they needed her as much as she needed them.

  Rowdy’s struck her as a cozy place as she made her way to the wide porch steps of the wraparound porch. She had never been inside. Only drove past it. Each and every time she past it, she wanted so to go in. Especially at night with its orange neon sign glowing crisply against the black backdrop of the night’s sky. Now Summer was standing at the base of the restaurant looking up at the sign that sat atop the roof. It was giant. Rowdy’s.

  She pushed the heavy front door of the bar and all noise stopped. Except for the game at the pool table. The crack of balls continued but no one said a word. All eyes turned her way. Summer was not the only female present but the place was stocked with mostly men. Long haired men with mustaches and beards and bulging muscles.

  The row of men at the bar with their backs to her but their faces towards her, were ripped. Even in the dimly lit atmosphere, Summer could make out the definition of their physiques. They were hard bodies, every last one of them. Finally, someone said something to her.

  They all had a similar look but the guy who spoke to her was different. He was better looking. His shaggy hair was shiny; rolling around his face in soft curls. Even in the sparse lighting, his eyes glittered. The sight of him made Summer’s insides clutch. It kind of scared her. She liked it. A lot.

  “What are you up to, little girl?” he asked, the corners of his soft, full lips bending with amusement.

  Summer did not like being called that. She bristled. Summer stiffened her spine and stuck out her chest. She wanted to make sure he knew she was a woman and not a little girl. She was suddenly painfully aware of her white tennis shoes. They were the shoes of a kid. Still she made it work. She looked him dead in the eye and pushed passed him to take a seat at the bar, next to him.

  “Can I see some I.D.?” asked the bartender.

  “I didn’t bring my purse with me,” Summer said with disappointment.

  “Sorry. I am going to have to call this one,” said the bartender. “And in that case, you aren’t allowed to sit at the bar.”

  “Alright if I play pool?” she asked.

  Summer was exceptional at pool. Her father played it for hours to get away from her mother who was always hounding him for something. He showed her cool trick shots. Summer was not just good, she was very good.

  “Fine. Behave,” the bartender said with a glare of warning in his eye.

  Summer ordered a diet cola. The good looking guy paid for it. He followed her over to the pool table and watched as summer put her name on the chalkboard. Summer challenged the winner, who happened to be a big man, as most of the men in the bar were. He wore a hat Summer guessed to hide a receding hairline. These men here definitely had a thing for hair. Cool hair. Summer liked it. Though she didn’t like the man she was challenging. Something about him didn’t sit right with her.

  He laughed a little loudly as he laid eyes on Summer, chalking her stick. The man from the bar sat quietly, handsomely in a chair watching the show. Summer figure he should at least get his name.

  “Do I need to put your name on the board?” she asked flirtatiously.

  “His name don’t go on the board,” said the man Summer challenged. “He usually runs the table. I am only here because he’s taking a break. He’s the best. And I am pert near the best.”

  Summer smiled a wide full smile.

  “Is that so?” she asked.

  “I’m only letting you play,” continued the man, “Because I am a gentleman.”

  “Better remember that,” said the man from the bar.

  “Well if I can’t write your name on the board,” said Summer. “At least let me know what it is.”

  The man from the bar eyed her with wickedness.

  “Better remember yourself as well, little girl. You don’t belong here. I am letting you play one game and then it’s back to where you came from. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he said darkly.

  Summer didn’t hear much after he called her ‘little girl’ again.

  “My name is Wilson,” he said. “And what might your name be?”

  She was actually pouting and she didn’t want to answer but that would only make his point. She forced herself to reply.

  “It’s Summer,” she said.

  “Purty,” said the man she challenged.

  As the challenger, Summer racked the balls. It was a perfect rack. Tidy, tight. She lifted the triangle off the triad of balls, coolly. She could tell from the look in Wilson’s eye that he was impressed with her style. Her opponent got into position to break when Summer interrupted him.

  “Wait,” she said. “Do we bet?”

  Wilson sat up straighter obviously concerned for her question. Her opponent smiled slyly.

  “Of course we can,” he said.

  “No we cannot,” said Wilson.

  “You stay out of this. She’s old enough to be here. She’s old enough to make that decision,” said the opponent.

  Summer stood silently, looking at the two men with wide eyes till the decision to bet was confirmed.

  “Go ahead,” said Wilson with a wave reluctantly.

  “Twenty bucks each be okay with you?” asked Summer. “Winner take all?”

  The opponent shrugged. “Fine.”

  She stepped back from the table and let her opponent take his shot. It was weak.

  Wilson cut his eyes to her. Somehow she read a glint of faith in her, in them. It was her turn. She leaned over the pool table, sliding the cue in her fingers. She aimed and shot. It was beautiful. She took another. And another. The opponent was a little disgruntled.

  “That’s enough,” he said randomly after she sunk her third shot in a row.

  “What’s enough?” asked Wilson coolly. “She’s beating you, Duran.”

  Summer’s opponent’s name was Duran. Wilson. Duran. She liked that not too long before Rowdy’s was a foreign universe to her and it was fast becoming familiar. She felt like she would fit right in a place like this.

  “I’m letting her,” winked Duran.

  Summer had played enough pool, with her parents’ guests mostly, to know that this was not the case. She was winning because
she was really good. She felt like Wilson knew this too.

  She was trying to figure out how old Wilson was. He might even be old, like thirty. He was so handsome, she thought. His dark hair and nicely groomed beard. Sumer thought he looked like knight sort of. He had the muscles for it. His biceps were as big around as her waist practically. His pecs strained against his T shirt. If they weren’t so hard and powerful looking, they might look like breasts, she thought. He was definitely built. And his legs were long. She spied on him, through stolen glances, is crisp black jeans. Summer thought Wilson was hot.

  She was due to take her next shot but with her sense of Duran’s displeasure that she was winning, she paused. She didn’t want to cause trouble by winning. Wilson recognized her hesitation.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he said. “Don’t let this guy have his way. Just because he’s a poor sport. Go on. Finish.”

  That was all the encouragement she needed. Summer ran the table. She had called every one and when she sank the eight ball, Wilson grinned from ear to ear, flashing perfect white teeth, the sight of which made Summer melt.

  Duran boiled. He flexed his jaw but he said nothing. Summer figured that was because Wilson was there. He began to walk away. Wilson tapped him on the shoulder.

  “You forgetting something there bud?” he asked Duran.

  Duran acted like he had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Twenty bucks? You owe the lady,” said Wilson.

  “I am confused,” said Duran. “Did you not say ‘no betting’?”

  Wilson stood up. He stepped toward Duran who was maybe an inch taller. He was certainly broader and doughier. It was clear to Summer that Duran was afraid of Wilson.

  “You know and I know that had you won that game, you would expect her to pay up,” said Wilson.

  “The truth is I am short, little lady,” said Duran. “I really didn’t take you seriously.”

  But Wilson wasn’t having it.

  “Empty your pockets,” he ordered.

  “Now Hoss, you don’t have to go there. If you want me to pay the little jailbait I’ll do it. It’s going to short me is all,” said Duran.

  He produced a twenty-dollar bill after all. Again Wilson declined.

  “Oh no brothah,” said Wilson. “It’s forty now. It doubled when you called her a name.”

  “What is your problem?” Duran’s eyes narrowed. “You fixin’ to get with this girl?”

  Without warning, Wilson took a swing and decked Duran. Down he went. While he was incapacitated, Wilson checked his pockets and pulled out more cash. He handed it to Summer.

  “Don’t you do anything about this,” warned Wilson while he was low to the ground near Duran.

  Wilson climbed to his feet.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “Oh,” said Summer. “I didn’t know I was leaving.”

  “You are,” said Wilson.

  “But I wasn’t finish playing pool. I won. I want a challenger,” said Summer.

  “But no more gambling,” said Wilson.

  “Why are you broke?” she smiled.

  “Why is that?” asked Wilson.

  “I want to play you,” she answered.

  Chapter Two

  “Boys help him up,” said Wilson to two bystanders.

  Just like that the two men watching on helped Duran up and off the floor.

  “Buy him a drink,” Wilson said to the bartender.

  Wilson turned to the table. While he wasn’t looking, Summer racked the balls.

  “I am supposed to do that,” he said.

  “I know but I am sure I would do a better job,” said Summer with a giggle.

  “You want me to break,” asked Wilson frustratedly.

  “No, I probably do a better job at that too,” she laughed.

  “Okay then,” he said gruffly.

  Summer passed him closely, like she was a moon orbiting his planet. He had the strangest, kind of disturbed look on his face as she did. She leaned over the table, aware that she need to be cautious, wearing jean cut offs and all. She aimed and fired. It was a meticulous break.

  Summer sank a few shots. She just happened to catch a glimpse of him watching her. He was watching her not her game. She looked up from her shot. Their eyes locked on to one another. Looking at him made Summer feel drunk. She returned her focus back to her game -- or tried to -- and missed her shot in a ridiculous way. Wilson was kind enough to suppress his laugh.

  “Oh well,” he said.

  Summer had as much fun watching him play as he apparently took in her. The man made her insides funny. He was absolutely perfect. He should be on television or something. Summer wanted him bad. Handsome. Everyone in the bar seemed to look up to him, do what he said. He was the coolest guy at Rowdy’s.

  Wilson sunk one ball after the other into the pockets, calling each one so casually. It was a quick and painless death. Summer lost the game. She lifted her head from the table and smiled at him. Wilson winked at her.

  “We’re done,” he said. “Now it’s time to get you home.”

  “What are you talking about?” Summer protested. “I just got here practically. And I don’t see anyone else leaving.”

  “I will walk you to your car,” he said firmly. “Now.”

  “I don’t have a car,” she smiled as though it were a triumph.

  “You do not have a car?” he raised his eyebrows at her. “How did you get here?”

  “I walked,” she tilted her head.

  Summer watched his face change. He was not pleased with her answer.

  “I will give you a ride home,” he announced. “Come.”

  Wilson and Summer put away their cues. He was paid up his tab at the bar. He grabbed a helmet and they left. He led her around the back of Rowdy’s. There were rows of shiny bikes. The sight of a parking lot packed with motorcycles was exciting to her.

  “Do you have a motorcycle?” she asked.

  “Yes I do,” he replied.

  He set his helmet on her head.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “What about me what?” he asked.

  “Am I taking your helmet?” she asked.

  “Yes but I am fine,” he said. “Have you ridden a motorcycle before?”

  “No,” she replied.

  He rolled his eyes. He shook his head like he was scolding her. Then he winked again. He straddled the bike.

  “What is your address?” he asked.

  “It’s just straight down the street, in towards the houses. It’s the white house on the left at the fork,” she said.

  “I know it,” he answered.

  He encouraged her to hold on to him and to swing her leg over. Summer placed her hands very timidly on him. Wilson very quickly adjusted her hands to wrap around him. Summer’s body pressed up against his. It was a luscious, wicked windfall.

  Summer loved the way Wilson smelled. The mix of the night air and the hint of the shampoo that he used was so pleasant and arousing. Pressing against him was like pressing against a hard table. For a moment though, it occurred to Summer that she was out the back of a bar with a strange man. She was complete mercy as he pulled out onto the street.

  With each tip and swerve of the bike, Summer’s insides pulled. It was so erotic. That and the humming of the bike turned her on. The way the longish sweeps of his hair lifted in the wind as the bike cut through the night was also spectacular. Despite how the night began, with her storming out of her parents’ house, the moment was perfect. The last hour or so, absolutely perfect.

  The distance to Summer’s house was not that long. They were in front of her place very quickly. Wilson slowed the bike, balanced it with his feet. In the front window, lit up by the bright lights of the living room, were the outlines of Summer’s parents, deep in a heated argument. Summer thought she would die. She did not want to go inside. Fortunately, Wilson wasn’t rushing her. They idled quietly. The voices of her parents battered t
he night.

  “Those your folks?” he asked with mild amusement.

  “Yep,” she replied tensely. “Any chance I can get a ride back to Rowdy’s? I’ll just come home later.”

  “And how will you do that?” Wilson asked sternly.

  He was beginning to sound like one of her parents.

  “I’ll take a cab,” she replied.

  Wilson craned his neck around and glared at her.

  “When is the last time you saw a cab around here? It’ll take an hour at least for one to get here and I am not sure I like the thought of you getting in the cab with some stranger,” he said.

  Someone in the house threw something breakable. The crash rent the air.

  “You’re a stranger,” she reminded him.

  But he didn’t feel like that. She could feel him react to her remark but he didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t care. I am not going in there,” said Summer. “Take me to a motel.”

  Wilson arched his brow.

  “Do they get physical? Is your mother in danger? Or your father for that matter?” he chuckled.

  “No they just get super loud. I wish one of them would kill the other,” Summer grumbled.

  “Hey,” Wilson chastised sharply.

  Then he softened his tone.

  “You are quite correct. We are strangers. But I promise you, you can trust me. If you really can’t go inside and since I am not sure I trust you not to walk off again, you can crash at my place. It’s not far from here,” he said. “In fact it’s practically around the block.”

  “Well,” she smiled inside the helmet. “That’s mighty neighborly of you.”

  Summer felt like an alien talking to him with the helmet.

  He gripped her arm firmly. “I say it again. You can trust me. But if this happens again, you are not to go off with the first guy who gives you a ride. And you are not to go to Rowdy’s again.”

  Wilson started up the bike again and once again they were off. Summer didn’t care if she never went to Rowdy’s again - for nightlife; she intended to apply for a job there -- but riding off with Wilson was surreal. It was like a sweet movie come true. She was a grown up. She felt so adult. She was filled with adult feelings. As her thighs gripped his hips, Summer realized she ached for him. She wanted him. And when she got to his house, she was going to seduce him.