Bad Brother, a Stepbrother Romance, part 1 Read online

  Bad Brother

  A Stepbrother Romance

  part one

  by

  Olivia Hawthorne

  Copyright © Bad Brother, a Stepbrother Romance, part one 2015

  by Olivia Hawthorne

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Bad Brother, a Stepbrother Romance, part one

  Bad Brother, a Stepbrother Romance, part two (coming soon)

  Chapter One

  “That one,” Cherry commanded and pointed across the club. Through the flashing lights and throngs of people moving to the pulsing music, I saw who she was pointing at.

  “Not on your life,” I said and sipped my drink nervously.

  “Come on, you know the bet,” she laughed, “You have to hit on anyone I choose tonight. You lost, fair and square.”

  I took another sip and scanned the room. I settled on an accountant type with thick glasses and a nervous tic in his cheek. He looked sweaty and uncomfortable and more like I’d have a chance.

  “How about him?” I asked, imploring her to go easy on me. I’d lost a bet to her, a stupid one I’d made a couple weeks back over who was going to win America’s Next Top Model. Who knew my pick would end up being a coked out hooker who was disqualified just before the big finale?

  Cherry had apparently, which is why she picked the winner and I was here scanning for somebody to hit on. The challenge was to get him to buy me two drinks and ask for my phone number. It was her one form of punishment, the worst thing a party girl like her could think to inflict on a book nerd like me.

  “Not bloody likely, he’ll come in his pants before you even get your first drink. This has to be challenging, I want you to suffer a little,” she said with an evil gleam in her eye. I know I made her out to sound awful, but she wasn’t. She was my best friend and was really just helping me loosen up a little before taking off for college in two months.

  Ultimately she wanted to get me laid, help me lose the big V card, but that wasn’t likely any time soon.

  “Fine,” I sighed dramatically and downed the last of my gin and tonic. We’d snuck into the club with fake IDs and even though I was eighteen, I was suddenly feeling very out of my league.

  The man I’d agreed to hit on was drop dead gorgeous. Not even hot or good looking, but one of those types who could be on the cover of some rocker magazine. He was tall, I could see that from here, his body was bulging and rippling with muscle as he leaned casually against the bar, surveying the crown with a smug smirk on his face.

  He had jet-black hair and tanned skin, and was covered with dramatic tattoos that were gleaming in the light, even from over here. His tee shirt hugged his body and I could see that V on his abdomen that drove most women wild. Okay, I admit it, it drove me a little wild too.

  I grabbed her drink and downed it as well, ignoring her irritated glare. I needed all the help I could get.

  I sauntered across the club doing my best impression of a top model, but probably looking more like a lame giraffe than a fashionista. I stood near him and waited for him to notice me, when he did, I shot him what I hoped was a sexy smile. I should maybe practice in front of the mirror at some point, in case I ended up looking like the Joker on crack or something.

  “Can I help you?” he asked with one perfectly sculpted brow raised. I hated bushy eyebrows; happily his were perfect.

  “Do you have the time?” I asked, grasping at anything to open the conversation.

  “Is the clock on your phone not working?” he asked, staring at the phone clutched in my sweaty hand.

  “Battery died,” I said and held it up. At that moment my sweat slicked finger slid onto the home button and it lit up like a mini Christmas tree. Great. “Oh wow, it’s working now,” I said with a half-hearted laugh.

  “Listen, babe,” he said and gave me a smirk, “if you want to talk to me, you don’t need a reason. I understand why you’d want to.”

  What an arrogant jerk, but still, a bet’s a bet.

  “My name’s Britt,” I said and stuck out my hand. I really should have swiped it across my dress first, but forgot.

  He took my sweaty and, shook it, and said, “Hey Britt, I’m King.”

  “King?” I laughed, looking him up and down. It must be a nickname.

  “Kingston, but people call me King,” he replied and leaned close, “but don’t worry, I deserve the title as well as the name.”

  “Deserve it? For what?”

  “I’m the King of fucking,” he said with a wink. His eyes were stunning, dark green with flecks of brown; his lashes were thick and dark. I looked down, not willing to take the plunge into those deep, soulful pools.

  “Oh really?” I blushed and wondered how he managed to pull this off. Normally a guy saying these things would make me run the other way, not him though. It was as though his words were directly attached to my lady parts, and I clenched involuntarily at the thought of him proving his claim.

  “Definitely, princess,” he said with that annoyingly sexy, arrogant smirk. He drained his glass, set it on the bar top and looked around. “You need to go tell your friend?”

  “Tell her what?”

  “That you’re coming home with me,” he said and leaned towards me again. He grabbed my wrist and gently trailed his finger along the sensitive skin on the inside of my arm. It was on fire, I was sure if I looked down I would see a path of flames where his skin had touched mine.

  “I didn’t say I was coming home with you,” I gulped, my throat dry.

  “But you didn’t say you weren’t,” he winked and right then I knew he was right.

  I was going home with him.

  Chapter Two

  “You’re what?” Cherry shrieked when I shared the news.

  “Going home with him,” I responded, feeling slightly robotic. It was though I was drugged or under some strange spell, I was going home with a tall, dark and mysterious stranger and no alarm bells were going off in my head.

  “Brittneeeeeeeeeey,” she said, stretching out the second syllable of my name because she knew I hated it. “Are you serious?” She glanced up at King from under her thick lashes, leaned forward slightly to show off the deep valley of her cleavage and smiled. “You don’t even know him, maybe I should come with you guys.”

  “I’ll take good care of her,” he smiled without looking at her, and handed her a business card, “just in case you need to get in touch, here’s my info.” She looked surprised, usually the boob thing reeled them in like fish on a hook. He seemed completely immune to her generous endowments.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him. Me, nerd girl supreme, the iron virgin, destined to never be spontaneous or have any fun. He chose me.

  I was going to lose it tonight. Now that I had seen Cherry’s look of surprise and felt the way King touched me, I was determined this was the night. I was going to shatter my boring image and give everybody something to talk about before I left for college.

  It would be an epic ending to my lifelong dry spell.

  I thought I heard Cherry squeal something over the steady loud pulse of the club, “Britt, do you know who that is?” I turned quickly but was tugged ahead by King.

  And I couldn’t say no, so I followed and waved goodbye to Cherry who was hold up the card with an awestruck look on her face.

  We didn’t walk far,
just a couple blocks away from the club. He swiped a card at the door of a steel and glass tower on the city’s waterfront. In the elevator, he acted as though I weren’t with him. He dropped my hand and leaned on the mirrored wall, not looking at me.

  I glanced at myself in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw out here in the harsh lights, away from the flashing colors and low lights of the club. I glanced away, red cheeked and ashamed at what I was doing.

  I almost wanted to tell him to stop the elevator, to let me off and let me go, but I looked at him.

  He was staring at the elevator button panel, his eyes dark mysterious pools; I had no idea what he was thinking.

  And then somewhere half way up the tall, modern building, he looked at me. And I knew exactly what was on his mind.

  With no warning, he closed the distance between us and took me into a passionate embrace.

  I’d kissed boys before, and maybe a couple who could be considered guys, but never a man. Never a man like this, for sure, and never kissed like this.

  It felt as though he sucked all the air from my lungs and I couldn’t breathe anything but him, his essence. He smelled masculine, like musky sweat and expensive soap. His strength surrounded me, and I was almost alarmed to realize just how huge he was next to me. I felt tiny in his embrace.

  His lips were soft but commanding and demanding. His tongue was everywhere in my mouth, owning it and claiming it, while his hands traveled down my back to rest just under my ass, cupping me against him.

  And his cock, the thick ridge that pressed into my stomach and promised me a night of unforgettable bliss with this total stranger.

  I decided that I was going to do it; I was going to go through with it as planned.

  I would no longer be the iron virgin, plain Jane, the boring one. I was going to be Rebecca Deflowered, as if it were a title. And I was losing it to King, to the King, and I would never have to see him again.

  So in my head I once again reconciled my decision and focused on the moment so I could remember what happened in order to tell my story to Cherry.

  The elevator stopped and beeped. King pulled out a card and swiped it across the panel without breaking his lips away from mine.

  The doors opened directly into a wide, open apartment and he picked me up in his arms and carried me across the threshold like we were married.

  He set me down as the doors closed, looked me up and down and asked, “Would you like a drink?”

  “Just water,” I said and looked around, feeling disoriented and a little out of place. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, maybe a filthy bachelor pad or a shabby little place given all his tattoos and ripped jeans. Whatever I’d expected, this was not it.

  This place was beautiful, something right out of Architectural Digest, and it dawned on me that I’d read about this building. Considering we were in what seemed to be the penthouse, I’d say King was loaded. I raised my eyebrows as I looked at him in the kitchen pouring sparkling water over ice.

  What was a guy like him doing picking up a girl like me in a bar? He could have his choice of anyone with his looks and money, super models and A list actresses.

  Why me?

  He walked back, handed me a glass and I took it. I sipped it and used the chance to appraise him again.

  Nope, he was still incredibly hot.

  “I don’t normally do–” I started to say.

  “This kind of thing?” he laughed, “Don’t worry, princess. I’m not judging you. What you do with your body is up to you, and I’m cool with that.”

  “I’m serious,” I replied, a little taken aback. I didn’t know why I didn’t want him to think I was some slut, it’s not like I was going to see him again.

  “I’m sure you are,” he smirked and took a step closer until his massive, muscled body was looming over me. He took my drink from my hand and set it on the coffee table next to us. “Like I said, no judgment from me,” he continued, “but if I don’t get you naked and taste that sweet cunt of yours as soon as possible, I’m going to go fucking mad.”

  I gulped, looked up at him and said, “Uh…ok.”

  Not exactly romance novel material dialogue from my end, but with that, he scooped me into his arms and strode across the apartment to his bedroom.

  And I couldn’t have said no even if I’d wanted to.

  Chapter Three

  He began to slide my dress off my shoulders the moment we hit his bedroom and he set me down. He was all over me, kissing me and touching me in ways I’d never known. His hands felt impossibly fast, everywhere at once, and his tongue demanded my full attention.

  I struggled to keep my dress on, wanting this to happen but feeling insecure in the face of his physical perfection.

  Come on, Brittney, I told myself, you’ve got this. You can do this.

  I didn’t know if my grandmother would appreciate my brain using her voice sternly telling me to lose my virginity to a stranger I’d just picked up.

  He succeeded in sliding the dress all the way down so my breasts were left poking out the top of a bright pink lacy bra I’d chosen that evening. Thank god I hadn’t gone with the old comfy beige set that was my go-to.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured as he drew back from my mouth. A thrill of joy went through me at his words. Had this sculpted piece of male perfection had just called me beautiful?

  I let him pull my bra down and expose my breasts fully. He dipped his head and mouthed one rock hard nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and finger.

  I gasped and grabbed his head automatically, holding him there where it felt so good and anchoring myself to him so I didn’t fall away.

  The pleasure made me light-headed and dreamy, as if this were happening to somebody else. He slid my dress further down, over my hips and thighs, and let it drop to the floor.

  I stepped out of it, still wearing my strappy heels and feeling as sexy as hell. He dropped to his knees in front of me, as if in worship.

  I looked down at him and he looked up at me with an intense glimmer in his eyes, “I need these off,” he rasped and tugged at my soaking wet panties.

  I wiggled and he pulled them off, leaving me essentially naked, with just my bra and shoes left.

  “I don’t know–” I started to tell him. I had never had anybody go down on me before and this all felt overwhelming.

  Before I could finish telling him this, his tongue was stabbing at my wet cleft, sliding in and making me gasp and moan.

  He spread my lips and found my clit immediately, flicked it and licked it with his hot tongue until I had to grasp his head in both my hands to stop myself from falling.

  I surprised myself with the speed and force of my orgasm. Within moments I shuddered and cried out, grinding myself against his face. His eyes shone as he looked up at me, pleased with his success. I’d give it to him though; he certainly knew what he was doing.

  He stood up after I was done shaking and moaning. He looked down at me with my juices covering his face, and gave me that arrogant little smirk.

  “I told you I was the King,” he said.

  “Yes, yes,” I replied, “that was amazing and all that, but you could dial the arrogance down a notch. The whole super stud thing is kind of annoying.”

  He laughed and pulled me towards him. His hand dropped with lightning speed and he slid a finger across my swollen, sensitive clit. He rubbed it, looked into my eyes and asked, “You want me to stop? Right now?”

  “Just the arrogance…” I began to say, but my voice trailed off as he found that sweet spot again and I lost my train of thought. What had I been protesting? What had bothered me? Damn, he could be the biggest prick on the planet and I think I’d take it just to keep him doing this. Damn it.

  He stopped and I looked up at him, begging him to continue with the look on my face. He kissed me and I could taste myself on his lips, it all added to the insanely hot experience.

  I grew bold and lifted his tee shirt off his amazing body. H
e slid out of it and tossed it to the side, let me drink in his appearance and seemed to preen. I didn’t mind though, I was too caught up in watching his muscles ripple and admiring the artwork on his tattoos.

  I was in absolute lust; there was no denying that. No other man had ever made me take notice like this. No other man had ever sparked my interest and made me feel this careless.

  He was definitely good at what he did. He was the King I grudgingly admitted.

  He kissed me again; I let my hand fall to the waistband of his jeans and started to unbutton them. I wasn’t good at it though, I fumbled and he smiled against my mouth.

  “Maybe you really don’t do this much, princess,” he said and I laughed.

  “I told you,” I replied and let him help me strip his jeans off. He was commando, so the moment they slid down past his cock, that monster sprung free.

  It was rock hard, thick and huge.

  And downright intimidating.

  How would that thing ever fit inside of me?

  Chapter Four

  He pulled the blankets down on his bed; I was struck by how nice everything was. Everything was soft and luxurious, not at all like the dirty futon my last boyfriend had slept on. He turned to me and flashed me a wicked grin.

  “I am going to give you the night of your life,” he said and traced my collarbone with his finger, leaving trails of fire in his wake, “I want you to moan and writhe on the end of my cock. I want you to beg for it, princess, I want you to beg me for my cock.”

  “Right now?” I asked, looking down at it. It was really scary, but I was intrigued.

  He laughed, “No, not right this instant. Relax a little, let me pound that sweet cunt of yours, and then you’ll beg for it.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, not really getting this whole dirty talk thing. I had no idea what to say.

  He drew back, looked at me and scanned my face. “You aren’t one to beg, are you?”

  I thrust my chin out and clung to some shred of dignity. “No, not usually.”