Max: A Stepbrother Romance

by Brother, Stephanie

  I try and shake memories of Max away and get to the tasks in hand.

  Mom gets married in three hours and I need to get my shit together. You’d have thought I’d be good at this with all the practice I’ve had, but I don’t even know where she’s put my bridesmaid’s dress.

  There is a queue for the bathroom several family members long I don’t feel like waiting for. I try to use Mom’s en-suite, but she barks me away as soon as I enter her room. She’s lost amongst a wall of people two layers deep, while they fuss over her hair and makeup like witches around a cauldron.

  I wonder how long she’s going to last this time. All that effort three years ago for something that lasted less time than the average toothbrush. I’m surprised so many people have come again to show their support, but maybe they just like to get dressed up and eat for free.

  There’s tonnes of other stuff I know I’d prefer to be doing today, but as daughter of the bride, I don’t really have much choice. I wonder how many more times that’s going to happen.

  Mom isn’t exactly the kind of person to stay in relationships for all that long. It’s been a long time since she’s been single, which might be part of the reason. Alex is just the last in a long line of men, half of whom she’s married. Ok, that’s probably not exactly fair, but she’s done it so many times I’ve kind of lost count.

  I eat breakfast, parry conversations from aunts, cousins and eventually my mother who emerges from her bedroom in a state of panic because she can’t find her veil, only to pause for five precious minutes to interrogate me on my whereabouts last night, my carefree attitude this morning and the expected arrival time of my itinerant, cheat of a boyfriend.

  I find my dress hanging up in one of the closets in the hall, chase any remaining staff members out of Mom’s bedroom, shut the bathroom door on the world and sink into what I plan to be a lengthy, very selfish bath.

  When I close my eyes I’m back there. Max towering over me, my legs on his shoulders, my skin fizzing with desire, a heartbeat away from orgasm.

  As I slide my hands through the water, over my smooth skin and towards my still tender pussy, I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.

  Max

  “You’re late and you look like shit.”

  “Nice to see you too, Dad.”

  I may be late, but it hardly matters, he’s far from ready. What the fuck has he got to do anyway? Button up a shirt, pull on a jacket, shine his shoes. What does he need me for? Put on his cuff-links for him?

  My brother, Jack, sits in the corner of the room with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. The two of us look nothing alike, but then neither of us look like all that much like Dad either.

  “You smell like pussy”, Jack whispers when I hug him.

  The smile tells me I should take it as a compliment, which I do. I want to tell him about my meeting with an angel, but now isn’t exactly the right time. We’ve got to get this shit show over first.

  The end of the bed is the only space that isn’t covered in items of clothing. I take a seat and begin to fiddle impatiently with Dad’s bow-tie.

  “Who else is coming?”

  Annoyed, Dad pulls it away from me, tossing it idly back to the stack of fabrics I pulled it from.

  “What do you mean, who else? It’s us three and that’s it and then a fuck load of her family. You boys are in the front row. You think you can handle that?”

  My dad has never lost his Scottish accent despite an absence from the country of his birth for over thirty years. Jack and I have always teased him about it.

  “This hotel room is worse than mine. I thought you’d be back at the house.”

  “She’s taken it over and sent me away. Plus, it’s bad luck to see the bride before we get to the church. I thought you boys were intelligent enough to know that.”

  “Is that what happened last time?”

  Dad rolls his eyes and Jack stifles a laugh.

  “You’re not too old for a smack, you know that?”

  “Come on, Dad. Number three. Is this the one?”

  “She better be”, Jack says, beating me to it. “I don’t think I can afford to hire another suit.”

  Dad pulls on his shirt. A shave has left his skin tender, and red in patches. I watch him observe his face closely in the mirror.

  “You wait until you see her. You’re going to fucking shit bricks, both of you. Now, who knows how to put on cuff-links?”

  Lola

  “I look awful.”

  “Mom, you look beautiful.”

  Uncle Bob nods. The hair and makeup girls nod. Even the cleaner stops to nod. I don’t know whether she really thinks she looks bad, or whether she just needs the affirmation. Whatever it is, it seems to work.

  We are already forty five minutes late. I knew it too. I had time to have an indulgent bath, think long and hard about Max, do my hair and makeup twice and make sure everyone else left in time.

  Uncle Bob is giving her away. With the other two bridesmaids already at the church, that leaves him, Mom and me left. I don’t even need to glance at the clock to know we really need to get going.

  I can tell Mom is nervous. I can’t remember her being this agitated with Sergio or Greg and I wonder maybe if it’s because Alex really is the one. I hope so. I’m tired of going through the same routine every six months, and I’m sick of seeing Mom get hurt too.

  The three of us sit across the back seat of the car, Mom in between us. It’s a short, almost silent journey to the church, where the other two bridesmaids wait patiently for our arrival. Bob is out quickly, holding the car door open for Mom, while more guests filter out to catch a glimpse of the glamorous bride arriving.

  I feel enormously proud of her as I watch Bob gather her arm up in his and lead her towards the entrance. I fall in behind her, my two cousin either side of me, and a bunch of flowers clasped carefully between my hands, while the enormity of the church gradually swallows us up.

  This is it.

  Fingers crossed no-one fucks this one up.

  Max

  I’m going to shit bricks. As I look at her walking towards us, my mouth open so wide it’s practically scraping the floor, he couldn’t have realized how right he was going to be.

  Lola. What the fuck is she doing here?

  I look at the bride, who I have to admit is much prettier than most of the woman Dad usually brings home - kind of like a much older version of Lola -, and then I look back at Lola, who is staring straight at me with a look of complete horror on her face. Not only that, she’s stopped dead in her tracks. Bolt-me-to-the-floor dead.

  The congregation gasp as the bride stutters, wobbles and nearly slips, her dress cinching tight around her chest and pulling her back sharply, the tail end of it clasped tightly in Lola’s hands.

  Everyone looks at Lola and then they look where Lola’s looking and suddenly I have a hundred pairs of eyes on me. A hundred pairs of curious, nervous eyes.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Dad says. “You two know each other?”

  “No idea”, I lie.

  “Lola?” the bride says, turning towards her daughter to see why the hell she’s stopped.

  “Max? What the fuck?” Lola says, and then the penny drops.

  Lola

  “Lola?!”

  Mom tugs her dress out of my hands and it nearly pulls me over.

  “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  “Nothing, sorry.”

  Max’s open mouth has been sculpted into a grin. I’m glad someone is finding this funny. What the fuck are the chances? I mean, I may still be wrong, of course, but in every wedding I’ve ever been to, that is where the family of the groom sit. It doesn’t take a genius to work out why he was staring at me like that either. God, please tell me he’s adopted.

  Why didn’t he tell me he was here for a wedding anyway? I know we didn’t have much time for conversation last night, but it would have been easy enough for us to work out any potential complications if he had hav
e done. Maybe it’s best that he didn’t, but if he is Alex’s son, which looks pretty likely, that means we’re about to become step siblings.

  Fuck.

  I fucked my step-brother.

  I can’t even begin to tell you how fucked up that sounds.

  Mom knows something’s up. She can see me looking at him across the aisle and it’s distracting her so much she’s fluffing her lines. I’ve got to stop stealing glances, but I can’t help it. He looks really good in his suit, and when I’m not looking at him, which is hardly ever, I can feel his eyes on me, so it naturally makes me want to stare back. This is impossible.

  It was supposed to be one night, not ‘til death do our parents part.

  “If there is anyone gathered here today that knows of any reason why Alex and Katherine may not be legally wed, please speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

  Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t look at him.

  Ok, I can’t help it. I’m looking at him. I’m looking at him raise his eyebrows and nod enthusiastically towards the bride and groom. He’s mouthing something to me, but I can’t make out what it is. As I continue to look at him, that cocky fuck begins to raise his arm slowly into the air.

  This isn’t happening. This really cannot be happening. But it is. The priest spots him.

  “Yes?”

  Mom and Alex spin around to see who it is. Alex’s face is twisted into confusion and Mom looks at me as though I’ve got something to do with it.

  “Max? Is this a joke?”

  My heart is beating so hard you can see the front of my dress move with it.

  Max stalls for time. He looks at me purposefully and then back to the priest.

  “Sorry, what was the question again?”

  Some members of the congregation laugh nervously, unsure if he’s being serious or not.

  “You fucking idiot”, Alex says. “Ignore him, he’s only fooling around.”

  The priest repeats the question just in case, and this time Max apologizes for a misunderstanding and waves them on.

  Alex shakes his head, while Mom laughs nervously, unsure what to make of it.

  When their backs are turned, I mouth the word ‘twat’ at Max.

  I can’t hide my smile when he winks back at me.

  Three.

  Max

  I can’t believe it. I guess Dad’s taste in women runs in the family, but even so it’s a hell of a coincidence. Lola doesn’t look like she’s taking the news too well, but it really doesn’t bother me. Sure it’s a little awkward, but so fucking what? We fucked, big deal. We’re not related and we weren’t even step-siblings when it happened, not that that makes any difference. I still would have. I still will if she wants to. Just because our parents are getting married doesn’t mean anything has changed for me. It might just make it easier. It’ll certainly make family gatherings a lot more fun, and it’s going to make the reception a blast.

  I spent all night thinking about how this girl made me feel, and I’d love to have another go, just to see if it was a one off. I’m not exactly the kind of guy who likes to stick to just one flavor, but if the sex is that good always, and she isn’t a dick to be around the rest of the time, I could end up changing my mind. I told you she was dangerous. She’s got me, Max Calderwood, thinking about a long term bunk up.

  We filter out of the church after the ceremony is over, throw confetti over the happy couple and watch them pile into a classic car that will take them to the pre-booked hotel for the reception.

  Jack and I are making our own way in his car, and while he goes off to fetch it I go to Lola to see if I can break the ice. She’s with a group of other people, so I decide to show her she’s a welcome addition to the family, and because I know it will tick her off.

  “Hey, Sis.”

  Lola turns towards me, strategically cutting me off from the rest of the group and I watch her go beetroot red.

  “You did not just say that to me.”

  Her whispered shout is loud enough for me alone to hear. I let her grip my elbow and walk me away from the group.

  “You look beautiful, Lola.”

  She stops to face me, arms folded protectively across her chest.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I shrug. “I wasn’t going to come, but Dad said he needed the support. Your mom looks nice, I can see where you get your looks from.”

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?!”

  “So people keep telling me.”

  “You think this is funny?”

  I can tell she does too, but for some reason she also feels like she needs to pretend otherwise.

  “You know what I think will be funny? Seeing if we can find somewhere to fuck before they serve lunch.”

  Lola shakes her head, and then she does that lip biting thing that makes my cock twinge. I almost have to cross my legs just to stop it swelling.

  “Lola? Lola, dear?”

  Some extrovert with a red beret and a camera around his neck is calling over, and Lola’s attention is momentarily snatched away.

  Just before she gets pulled in another direction, she leans in and whispers to me, her hand placed provocatively on my belly.

  “You know that was our parents wedding, right?”

  I want to pull her into me and bite her lower lip. A flash of a memory of licking her pussy last night makes my spine shiver. I hold her eyes for as long as she will allow and then watch her disappear back to the group.

  You could bottle that look she gave me and call it Wanton Desire. Fuck it, you could even call that shit ‘Guaranteed Fuck’ and be bang on the money.

  This was getting exciting.

  Lola

  Stepbrother. Not related, but a brother all the same. A member of the family. The son of the man my mother has married. That’s far too close for comfort. What if they procreated and so did we? That would make our child and their child grandson and, er, half brother?

  No, it’s too difficult to even work out, and far too weird anyway. I’m not even going there. He was a one night stand when we did it, not my stepbrother. I’ve still got control of this situation. All I need to do is avoid him for the rest of the day, get drunk, but not too drunk I lose my sense of perspective, and somehow maintain my dignity.

  When I get to the reception and see that Mom has taken the liberty of arranging the seating so Max and I are not only on the same table, but close enough to touch each other underneath it if we want to, I know I’ve got a job on my hands.

  Welcome drinks, lunch, speeches, dancing, quick fuck to multiple orgasm in the disabled toilets before declaring our love for each other in the corner of the marque tent - that’s the normal set menu for a wedding, right? I mean, this is America after all, people do all kinds of weird shit here.

  This is going to be horrible.

  Just one look at the swarm of family members waiting to talk to me tells me that. All I can see is a wall of semi-familiar faces blocking my way to the bar, and I know that somewhere amongst them will be my brand new stepbrother, the man who coincidentally happens to also be the best fuck I’ve ever had, period.

  I mingle to take my mind off it, jack-knifing strategically from family member to relative stranger, staying just enough time to be polite, but never enough to grow bored, one eye always on the look out for him. I tell myself it’s so I know where he is to avoid him, but I know that’s not strictly true. My heart skips a beat at the thought of him flirting with someone else. His stepsister and his new step-cousin all in one weekend? He’s cocky enough to want to try it and there's nothing to say he wouldn’t succeed too. Maybe I was just another in a long line. Maybe he just told me what I wanted to hear so he could get into my panties.

  I see Mom and Alex working their way around their guests, aunts and uncles from different ends of the country, cousins that have put on weight, others that have slimmed down to nearly nothing, family friends, the priest getting drunk on red wine, the barman serving it, and the cle
aner looking awkward and then finally I see him, alone, leaning against the very edge of the bar with a glass of champagne in his hand, doing little other than watching me.

  I can feel myself going red and I have to look away. I try to look everywhere else but his direction, and eventually I just can’t avoid it. My sexy stepbrother at the edge of my vision, always there, wherever I look. Making my heart skip a beat, my skin tingle with taboo desire and my panties sticky and wet.

  Finally, when I can’t resist anymore, I have to go over to him.

  I. Am. Fucked.

  Max

  Watching Lola move around this group is like watching an angel take a day trip out of heaven and pass through a nothing train station in anywheresville on her way back in, just for shits and giggles. Everyone wants a piece of her, and nobody gets anywhere close to matching her beauty. There are good looking girls here, but that’s all they are. Next to Lola, they just look like a hundred different shades of boring.

  Stepsister or not, this girl is making my head spin and my dress pants much tighter than is beginning to be comfortable. If this carries on for much longer, I’m going to have to do something about it much sooner than I’d planned.

  I’m going to have to break my protocol and go back in for seconds. And everyone knows what happens after that.

  Lola takes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and then eases along the bar towards me so we are both facing outwards towards the rest of the guests. I can feel the heat from her arm climbing into mine and I have to resist for all the world the urge to pull her into me.

  “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me.”

  Lola laughs.

  “You looked pathetic drinking on your own. I thought you might be flirting with the other bridesmaids already, not here propping up the bar, looking like a professional drunk.”

  “I didn’t want to make you jealous.”

  Lola scoffs it away, but the way that she does so tells me everything I need to know.