Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance

by Irons, Aubrey

  Well, not fucking yet. Yet; which means there’s still time to end this. I can stop this train wreck now right here before it goes any further; before the risk gets any bigger to the campaign, and to me. There’s too much at stake here, and it’s just not worth it.

  Now, if I could just convince myself of that.

  “I’m here, I’m sorry Donald.” I let the air out through pursed lips; “Honestly, I think I’m just tired and worn out from the day. You guys mind if we break here so I can go take a shower?”

  Donald grumbles but nods as I stand; “Just be ready to hit this tomorrow, ok? You’ve got that interview in the morning, the other one later after lunch, and then the gala event with Congressman Kennedy in the evening.”

  “I will.” Because tomorrow, I’m nipping this in the bud with Hudson and putting an end to the distractions.

  “Ooo! Don’t forget to use that facial scrub I got you! Reagan!” Erika say something else about cucumbers and tea-tree oil as I roll my eyes and leave them in the conference room.

  *****

  The hotel we’re staying at in Midtown is exactly the kind of campaign expense I don’t particularly enjoy, even though I know it’s all part of the pageantry of the race. I’ve tried to tell Donald a million times that it’s ridiculous for me to be staying here, seeing as I live barely ten blocks away, but he’s insisted that at this point in my campaign, I need a “headquarters”.

  Right; what I need is a stiff drink to give me the courage to figure out what I’m going to say to Hudson. I pause for just a second outside his door, almost tempted to knock on it and just rip the band-aid off right then, but I stop myself, of course. Tightening the fist I was about to pound on his door with, I walk into my own room and close the door mercifully behind me.

  I feel a shiver as I strip off my clothes in the bathroom, still feeling the lingering graces of his touch on my body as I turn on the water. I still have no idea what I'm going to say to him, but I'm bracing myself to do it anyways; it’s the only realistic thing to do at this point.

  The shower spray is bliss; hot, sudsy, and steamy to the point where I can just let go a little bit and let it all just take me away. So much so, in fact, that I don’t even hear the door to the bathroom open until it shuts, at which point I practically jump out of my skin. My scream freezes in my throat as he yanks the shower curtain back and smirks at me.

  "Hudson!" I gasp, my hands clutching at my chest; "What the fuck!"

  He grins wickedly and shushes me.

  "Are you fucking insane?!" I husk at him, still meekly covering myself with my hands as if he hasn't seen me naked before; as if he hadn't just had his mouth on my pussy barely hours before; "Donald and Erika are in the conference room right down the hall, get out of here!" I hiss at him through clenched teeth.

  He smirks at me; "Well I guess that means you'd better keep quiet then."

  "Hud-"

  He pulls off his towel, and he's rock hard, his erection throbbing as he grins at me and steps into the shower with me.

  "Hudson, I-" I can feel my resolve cracking; already forgetting all those poetic words I'd been putting together in my head to tell him why we couldn't continue this exact behavior anymore. He's steps close to me, so close I can feel my own body betraying me; warming, and wanting him nearer still.

  "We can't- we can't do this-"

  "Reagan," His voice is low and growling; "I'm going to kiss you on the count of five. And if you don't want me to do that, you're going to have to tell me, because after that, you're going to have to stop me."

  Goddamnit, why won't he listen to me! I can't do this, as much as every fiber of my being wants to. He steps closer to me, so close that I can practically feel his skin on mine, though he's still not touching me. The water trickles over his chiseled and inked chest, over the scars and the muscles there.

  "Hudson-"

  "One."

  "Dammit, get out of the shower!" I whisper noncommittally, barely believing the words myself.

  "Two."

  His hand reaches up and he trails his fingertips across the arm I've still got covering my breasts, making me shiver despite the steam from the shower. But we can not fucking do this! It could ruin the whole campaign and everything that I've worked so hard for.

  "Three."

  I'm wet; so fucking wet and ready for him that it's making my knees feel weak. But we can't-

  "Four."

  "Hudson, shut up." My resolve crumbles completely and I slide my hands into his hair and kiss him fiercely, as if I'd fly away without my lips on his another second. He growls as his strong arms wrap tightly around me, his hands sliding over my skin and grabbing me as he pulls me tight against his skin. I moan into his mouth, feeling his cock throb hotly pressed between us. His hand slides around over my hip and down between my legs to stroke my clit, and I pull away from his kiss and gasp as I feel him slip his fingers inside of me. I rock against him, whimpering his name as the water cascades over our skin; over his scars and ink and over everything that's ever separated us. I drop my hands to his cock, shuttling my hand up and down his enormous hardness as he curls his fingers inside of me, stroking against that sweet spot. I'm so close as I feel him growl into my neck, and it's taking everything I have not to cry out loud and scream his name as he coaxes me closer and closer to that sweet edge.

  He bites my earlobe between his teeth; "Come for me, Reagan. Come for me right now." When I do scream this time, I muffle it into his shoulder. My whole body shudders against him as my orgasm shatters through me, and I clutch him to me tightly, as if he might float away.

  P A S T

  It’s the pretending to care that gets old after a while. It’s exhausting really, pretending I’m interested in what they’re saying, or their opinions on the menu, or in them as people when really, I just don’t care. I’m going out with girls because I know I should, and I know it’s something I need to do to get my mind off of her, but it never helps. If anything, it just makes it worse.

  A year later, and here I am out with some other redhead who only even vaguely looks like her, who’s chattering at me across the dinner table about - fuck, actually I have no idea. I’m dating because I know a man of my position should be dating cute women in skimpy dresses at fancy restaurants. I mean let’s face it, there’s already enough weird shit about me to make me stand out more than I ever want to; being that weird guy who never goes out or is never seen with a hot girl on his arm is just a reputation I don’t need if I’m trying to blend in.

  When I drop her back off at her apartment, she looks at me like I’m completely nuts when I politely decline her invitation to come up for for coffee “and maybe a little cream and sugar”. Besides it being such an over-the-top line, I’m just not interested. I mean shit, the old me would’ve had her dress off halfway up the stairs; hell, the old me would’ve probably fucked her in the bathroom of that 5-star restaurant. But the new me feels pulled in too many directions, and is hounded by too many demons, and is haunted by the memory of the one perfect girl who no one is ever going to replace.

  And as I roar away from the redhead’s apartment, I wonder just how in the hell I’m ever going to get Reagan Archer out of my fucking head.

  P R E S E N T

  We’re giggling like fucking teenager as we stumble out of the shower, barely toweled off and leaving wet footprints across the carpet. She pushes me back in this big stuffed chair by the window of her room, and before I know it, she’s kneeling at my feet. When her lips wrap around my cock, it’s fucking miles better than every single one of the multitude of fantasies I’ve had of this exact moment. Her tongue slides across the underside of me as she begins to gently suck, and I’m just done. I’m gasping for breath with my hands running through her long red hair as she moans and swirls her tongue around me. When I warn her, she only moans louder and sucks me deeper, and I explode inside her mouth as I gasp out her name.

  She giggles as she pulls away, wiping her mouth in this way that would look jus
t plain slutty with literally any other girl in the world but her; on her it just looks incredible. She smiles shyly up at me as I try to form words though the fog in my head. Our eyes meet and then I’m pulling her up into my lap and kissing her neck and feeling her whimper softly into my ear.

  “You trying to kill me, Red?” I growl, nipping at her earlobe and loving the way it makes her gasp.

  “No but I’m starting to see the appeal all those other girls found in you.”

  She’s giggling, teasing me, and I groan as bring her lips to mine; “there are no other girls but you, you know that right?” She’s kissing me, and then as her hand drops to my lap she starts to giggle again

  “Oh my God-“

  “What?”

  She laughs- the sound so fucking beautiful and musical; “Hudson-“ Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are blushing bright red as she nods at my cock, standing straight up between us; “You’re still, um-” She’s trails off, and I shrug, not being able to help but add in a smug smirk at the fact that I’m still hard. Reagan bites her lip; “Do you- um, do you have one?”

  Fuck. Of course I don’t. The old me had them stuffed into every pocket I owned, but of the course the second the new me needs one more than a dying man needs water in the desert, I’m without. She sees the hesitation on my face and smirks as she reaches for her purse on the table next to us; rummaging around before coming out with a little foil packet in her hand and an adorable pink glow to her cheeks. I raise my eyebrows teasingly and she rolls her eyes; “You should probably check and make sure it isn’t expired.”

  She’s grinning at me as our eyes meet, and I feel so fucking close to this girl without even being inside her that it practically knocks the wind out of me. I’m not used to feeling this emotionally exposed with someone; this naked. In fact, even with all the women before, I’m fairy certain in that moment that I’ve never felt quite like this before; the sobering epiphany hits me that this is what making love feels like. She looks at me, so innocently, and so full of need that I’m suddenly terrified of shattering everything that she with the burden of what I carry.

  “Reagan, you know we don’t have to do thi-”

  “Hudson will you shut up and fuck me already?” She leans down and kisses me, sucking my lip between her teeth, and that pushes me right over the edge.

  I tear open the packet and roll the condom down over my length before my hands are grabbing her ass and moving her up to my tip as she squeals. And then I’m feeling her slide down on to me, and it’s like heaven and I could die right here. She’s like warm silk around me as we move together like the movement of an ocean; rocking together like a tide upon a shore. I’m gentle at first, but the way she starts to dig her fingernails into my shoulders and the way she bounces up and down my length making these sexy as hell little cooing sounds has me grabbing her harder and pumping my hips to meet hers. She grinding against me and whimpering as my hands grab the soft skin of her ass hard enough to leave marks as I start to fuck her hard. I can feel her tightening around me, her muscles clutching at me and her mouth hanging open as I kiss her and then slide my lips to ear; “Come for me, Reagan; fucking come for me right now.” I muffle her screams with my mouth this time as she goes to pieces around me, and it’s more than I can take. I see stars as I roar my release into her kiss and explode inside of her.

  When we’ve caught our escaping breaths and racing hearts and moved to the bed, I’m curled up next to her. And for the first time in maybe ever, I’m not counting down the seconds until I can leave.

  She yawns into my chest as she snuggles against me, worming her way deeper into my arms; “We shouldn’t fall asleep like this” she says sleepily.

  I nod, feeling my own eyelids weighing heavily down; “Definitely not.”

  I can feel her lips smiling against my skin; “But Hudson, would it really be so bad if…”

  I’m waiting for a full five seconds for her to finish her sentence until I grin as I hear the soft rhythmic breathing of her sleep. Before I can even convince myself to stop, I’m holding her tightly against my body as I let sleep take me under, and for the first since longer than I can honestly remember, I don’t dream at all.

  And it’s wonderful.

  P A S T

  I quietly hang up the phone and stare at the wall of my apartment for a second before I let the air out in a slow stream. The empty, sort of blank feeling inside is weird, especially since I know I should be feeling something much more right now. When your friend calls to tell you that your boyfriend’s been cheating on you, there’s a certain way you’re supposed to feel and react.

  Except, I just don’t.

  And a lot of that might be because there wasn’t exactly a whole lot there anyways with Chet. He was more like a companion, and kind of an annoying one at that than any sort of romantic role. Movies are full of dramatic encounters and fiery kisses and unbridled passion, and I know that’s all Hollywood bullshit, but I also know that I’ve seen that sort of passion. I’ve felt it, if only once and if only for one brief kiss, but that one kiss with him is better and more memorable than anything I’ve known since.

  So, no, I’m not mad that Chet’s apparently been fucking one of his interns, I’m just sort of sad, I guess.

  I open my phone, and almost like second nature, I’m scrolling down through my contacts until I see Hudson’s number there on my screen. It’s right where it’s been for over a year now, sitting there in front of my face with my thumb hanging half an inch above it but never actually touching it and actually going through with calling him. I don’t even know what the hell I’d say to him at this point, even though for a while I was so mad I even wrote down all the poisonous vitriol I wanted to hurl at him. But now- now it just seems like a faded and sad dream.

  Wow, look at me. I’ve just been cheated on and dumped by my boyfriend, but all I can think about is the man who broke my heart a full year ago. I take a deep breath and look at the number once more, and I know it’s time; I know it’s time to let him go. I slide my thumb across his number, and before I can stop myself, I’m hitting the little red “x” there to delete the contact. And just like that, he’s gone.

  P R E S E N T

  There’s the usual fog that accompanies waking up when I first open my eyes, and as sunlight glows around the drawn curtains, I find myself lazily stretching as I yawn and roll over - right into Hudson. Suddenly I’m wide awake and panicking, and I jump out of bed and back away from it, as if being near him somehow makes it more real and more than I can handle right now. Holy shit, I slept with Hudson. My hand flies to my mouth as my eyes go wide, suddenly thinking of all the repercussions that could come of this; my campaign, the funding from Archer Holdings; God, the media if they got ahold of this?

  I realize I’m pacing and chewing at my cuticles again, and I force myself to stop as I turn and look at him, still sleeping heavily in bed. The covers are pulled most of the way down on his torso as he lies on his stomach, and my eyes trace over the inked and scarred skin there; his back rising and falling slowly with his breathing. A flush creeps into my face as I think about last night with him, and how freaking incredible he felt in that first delicious moment of penetration. There’s a feeling of stinging guilt that I’m standing here regretting last night while I stare at the man that’s made me happier in one night than I’ve felt in a long time. But then the panic hits me again; fuck, I mean what if somebody heard us? My face gets hot as I try and think how loud I might have gotten the previous night. Or what if someone puts two-and-two together when they see that Hudson's bedroom door is wide open and his bed still made?

  He stirs in the bed suddenly as he begins to wake up, and for some bizarre reason I’m suddenly keenly aware and awkward about the fact that I’m standing there naked, despite what happened the previous night. I grab the first thing I see - his dress shirt - and throw it on; quickly buttoning it as he opens his eyes and starts to sit up in bed.

  “Morning,” He grins at me, blinking sle
ep from his eyes. God he looks incredible sitting in my bed like that; so peaceful, so naked, and so - I flush - so hard. He arches a brow at me and then smirks as he nods to the sizable tent in the sheet in his lap; “You know, as good as you look right now in that shirt, I think you should probably take it off and come back to bed, darlin.” And for a moment, doing just that sounds like the most amazing thing in the world.

  …That is, until there’s a startling knock on my door and Erika’s chipper, annoying voice hollering through about the interview I need to to be ready to leave for in thirty minutes. And just like that, the fantasy of curling up with Hudson and letting the world just float away without us is shattered as the very real reality hits me like a ton of bricks.

  “You need to get out of here!” I hiss at him, feeling panicked as I throw his pants at him.