HUGE X3: A MFMM Menage Stepbrother Romance

by Stephanie Brother

  I take another sip of coffee then put the mug on the counter. Maybe once I start telling him the story my nerves will settle. Maybe getting my worries off my chest in some way will help me sleep tonight. Drew’s spiteful face fills my mind and I blink and shake my head to dislodge it.

  It’s been ages since I’ve had anyone in my room and I do a quick once-over to make sure nothing embarrassing is lying on the floor or tossed over a chair. Since I’m usually studying in the library or out with Rachel, my room isn’t that much of a mess. I bolt to the bed and yank the covers up to cover the pillows. A made bed always makes a room look cleaner and I don’t want Cory to think I’m a slovenly student.

  Though I’m expecting it, the soft knock on the door makes me jump. This is it. No turning back now. I yank the door open and a wave of relief cascades over me at the sight of him. He looks official and imposing in his uniform, which is good. I need the Cory with authority because casual Cory might make me tempted to tell the truth.

  I step aside so he can come into my room. He looks genuinely worried about me, his eyes scanning the room for anything suspicious. I can’t help but find his furrowed brow and serious mouth touching.

  “Did you want a drink? Coffee?” I ask, needing to break the silence and disturb the somber mood.

  Cory looks surprised at my question but nods. “Sure, cream no sugar.”

  I make myself busy in the kitchen pouring his coffee and checking the tiny fridge for cream.

  “I only have milk, is that okay?”

  “Sure.”

  I watch him as he prowls the space in front of my desk. The dorm room is small with only a bed, a tiny kitchenette, bathroom and a sitting area. He turns the chair at my desk around and sits. His eyes are questioning but he doesn’t say anything. I’m thankful that he’s being patient, waiting for me to start the conversation. Direct questions would definitely have made me more nervous than I already am.

  I bring his coffee over and hand it to him, hoping he doesn’t notice the shaking of my hand. “Careful, it’s hot.” Cory raises his eyebrows and I cringe at the lameness of my comment. I pad over to my bed, looking down at my bare legs and feet, feeling a little exposed.

  Cory takes a small sip then puts the mug on the desk. “Thanks.” He turns his attention to me, then, his eyes bore into mine, waiting.

  “How’s your dad?” I ask, searching for a distraction. I feel so awkward. I don’t know if I can do this.

  “He’s fine. Still talking about your mom all the time.”

  Cory smiles and I do too. They’re a cute couple and Jeff makes my mom happier than I’ve seen her in years. If I wasn’t going through all this shit right now, I’d be excited to go dress shopping and help out with the preparations for the big day.

  “How are the wedding plans coming, do you know? I haven’t talked to my mom since the family dinner.”

  “I guess they’re coming along fine. It’s not like my dad talks about that kinda stuff.”

  “Aren’t you going to be his best man?”

  “Yeah, but he’s a grown man. He’s sorting it all out. He’ll only tell me if he needs my help.”

  “I’ll find out from mom when we go shopping. I’m sure things are going well. All she can talk about is the wedding and your dad when I talk to her.”

  “Allyson.” Cory’s voice is serious as though he’s telling me to stop without using the word.”

  “What?” I say, playing the innocent.

  “Stop avoiding the issue. You said you needed my help. What’s going on?”

  My pulse speeds and I drop my gaze to my hand, picking at the cuticles with my nails. It’s all there bubbling inside me, but I don’t know where to start. How do I tell him such private things? I thought it’d be easier. I thought because he’d given me his number and he’d seen what Drew was like, that I’d be able to open up. I thought because he’s a cop that this would be easier, but it isn’t.

  I hear the scrape of the chair against the floor as Cory gets up. He kneels in front of me and puts his hand next to my leg on the bed. It feels like such an intimate thing to do and there’s genuine concern in his expression. I suck in a deep breath and look into his eyes. I’ve seen them flash with anger and darken with lust, but it’s the softness in them now breaks my heart. It’s his gentleness that finally frees the words trapped in my mouth.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you but listen to the whole story before you say anything.”

  “Of course.”

  He’s still in cop mode, I realize. As a person, a friend or a stepbrother even, he’d probably react emotionally, but as an officer, he’ll listen to everything first, take it all in, analyze it before commenting. Feeling a little better, I nod.

  “I have a friend who is having problems with a guy.”

  I peer down to see his expression. He’s so good at keeping a neutral expression that I can’t tell if he believes if there really is a friend or not. “She broke up with her boyfriend because he was getting really jealous all the time. While they were going out things seemed good in the beginning. So good that she let him take pictures of her that could hurt her if they got out.”

  I wring my hands in my lap. My stomach churns and I suddenly wish I’d eaten some toast with my coffee. The silence hanging in the air is unnerving but I force myself not to fill it with idle chatter.

  “And now he’s threatening to show the pictures?”

  I purse my lips and nod. “He said everyone should know what a whore she is.” I stop and look at him again. He’s still listening, not judging, so I continue. “At first, he said if she doesn’t get back together with him he’ll send the pictures to all of his friends. Now he’s said he’s shown them to his friends already and will send them to her family and friends. My friend thinks he’ll post them online too.”

  “Can you tell me anything else? More details about the guy? Name, address?”

  His hand reaches to squeeze mine.

  “I can’t. My friend doesn’t know I’m talking to you about it. I want to know what can happen in a situation like this. What can she do?”

  Cory tenses. His knees must be hurting because he gets up to sit on the bed beside me.

  “If he releases the pictures, he’ll be breaking the law, Allyson. There are new laws that cover this kind of thing. The first cases are going to trial now. If your friend has proof of the threats then the guy is more likely to be prosecuted. He needs to be questioned, Allyson.”

  “I know. I told my friend that,” I lie.

  Cory looks at me closely, as though he’s trying to work me out. I know I’m bad at lying but I hope this sounds plausible enough for me to get away with it.

  “Anything that she can gather will help at trial. Tell her to keep track of everything this guy does, everything he says to her.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  “And if she wants to speak to me about it, you can give her my number. I’ll be able to put her in touch with someone who’s a specialist in this area.”

  “Okay.”

  Cory stands and I’m disappointed that he’s ready to leave already. What did I expect, though? That he’d want to stay and chit chat when he’s been working all night? I’m so tired I barely have the energy to get up to walk him to the door.

  “I should go,” he says, adjusting his uniform and flexing his neck. “I have some things I have to do and I’m beat after a long shift.” He pauses, eying me again. Is he going to question my story? I don’t know what I’ll do if he does. I fuss with my hair while he seems a bit lost for words. I’m relieved when he does speak and it’s not to call me out. “When your friend is ready to come forward, you tell her I’ll be there to support her. She needs to come forward, though. We can’t help her if she stays silent.”

  The truth of his words really hits home. Cory takes another few gulps of coffee and walks to the door.

  “Look, Allyson,” Cory says, pausing at the threshold. He turns and presses his hand to my cheek. “At the restaurant…�
� He pauses as though he doesn’t know what to say.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” I blurt out, trying to ease his obvious embarrassment.

  “I wasn’t going to apologize,” he says. His thumb caresses my cheek, his eyes on my lips. My throat is still tight with unspent emotion and his tenderness almost brings tears to my eyes. I swallow noisily, conscious of everything.

  “What were you going to say, then?”

  “That I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “Thinking about what,” I whisper as he gazes down at me, soft brown eyes like melted chocolate.

  “Thinking that I want to do it again.”

  I don’t say anything, even though it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I want that too. I’m hurting so badly that it would be the sweetest escape. I can’t think that way, though. I can’t think about how it would feel to surrender to his desire because it would be wrong. In a few months, he’s going to be family. Any upset between us would hurt my mom and her dreams of creating a unit for us with her impending marriage. I’ve done so much wrong recently; made bad mistakes, stupid choices, incorrect judgments, that I don’t trust myself.

  My eyes must show my warring emotions because Cory smiles.

  “I can almost see your mind working.”

  “And what is it saying?”

  “That I shouldn’t kiss you again. That it would be a mistake.”

  “Wouldn’t it?”

  “Maybe.”

  I’m not expecting him to kiss me. Not really. So when he does, my heart leaps in my chest. One tiny soft press of his lips and my knees are weak.

  “It doesn’t feel like a mistake,” he whispers huskily, breath gusting against my cheek as he presses soft kisses along my jaw. His gentleness is enough to make me want to cry again. Emotions bubble away inside me. He’s right. The way he kisses me feels about as far from a mistake as I can imagine.

  Cory kisses me again, this time more firmly, his tongue licking out to caress the soft, sensitive part in the middle of my top lip. His hand slips into my hair, cupping the base of my neck, drawing me into him. It’s as though something slots into place inside me. I feel peaceful while he worships me with his mouth.

  Sometimes, when the world feels like it’s against you in the worst way imaginable, it sends you a balm to soothe the hurt. It might be a big mistake, but kissing Cory is the sweetest error I’ve ever made.

  11

  ALLYSON

  Cory’s arms feel like a haven for me to escape to. I snuggle against him, resting one hand over his fast-beating heart and the other at his slim waist. I don’t have the will or strength to push him away or the sense it seems to care about the possible repercussions. I let him control our kiss as I practically melt against him. The cheesy romance idea that time can stand still when you’re with someone you feel for is absolutely true. I don’t know how long we stand there, reliving the kiss we shared at the restaurant but with so much more passion it feels like no time and eternity all rolled into one.

  When Cory finally draws back he tips my chin up and gazes into my eyes. I feel bare, as though he’s trying to look inside me. He’s a cop after all. That’s what he’s used to doing; trying to work out whether the things a person says and does are the truth or a lie.

  His expression softens and he looks like he’s about to ask me a question. I don’t want to lie to him again, and if he asks me how I feel about things now, I don’t know what I’d say. He’s pausing to check I’m with him and that he hasn’t overstepped the mark. Maybe he’s just a good guy or maybe it’s because he thinks I’m sensitive at the moment because of my friend. Impulsively I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips against his again, silencing whatever words were on the tip of his tongue.

  My arms tighten around him and his hands go straight into my hair, gripping tightly again. This time, the kiss has a hotter edge; there’s something exploratory and needy about his touch. The spark that has lingered between us since he flagged me down, rages into an inferno that can’t be put out.

  I trail my hands over his broad back, enjoying the play of muscles that bunch beneath my fingers. I skim higher, gripping his shoulders for support. Cory deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around me possessively, crushing me to his chest with a groan, then his hands roam across my back, down to my hips, squeezing. When he cups my ass and pulls me into him I can feel how aroused he is and it sends my heartbeat racing. Cory’s so tall and so big, all muscle and restrained strength. Although his squeezes are firm there is nothing about his touch that is designed to hurt.

  I think about Drew and how he liked to see the imprint of his grabby fingers on the fleshy parts of my body. I hardly know Cory but I trust him enough that I don’t fear where this is going. In fact, my whole body is alight with heat and longing. Between my legs, I feel like everything is swelling and throbbing. Our hands move over each other caressing, exploring, frenzied.

  The fantasy I had about him comes rushing back to me as he pulls me in tighter to his body. His tongue strokes mine and a shiver races through me. In my fantasy, he told me I was a bad girl. Standing in my room wrapped around each other, breathless from the heated kiss, I feel like a bad girl. Drew told me I was nothing. He would pass me around his friends, that’s how much he thought of me. He never cared about me, and the deep insecurities I have, the ones that make me question if I’m worth caring about flare.

  There are tears burning behind my eyes again but these have a different root. I’m so sick of never feeling good enough. I’m sick of always wondering if whoever I’m with is going to tire of me and move on. And I feel so damn stupid for still carrying around my childhood abandonment issues and letting them affect me so badly.

  I clutch onto Cory more, needing his strength. I tell myself that this is all about pleasure. If I can just lose myself in him, I can bury my troubles and anxieties for a while. I feel like a gambler chasing their losses, knowing it’s foolish, but hoping that they’re wrong. Maybe lady luck will look kindly on me tonight. Maybe the universe is sending me Cory for a reason.

  I reach down to fumble with the front of his trousers but get all tangled up in the belt thing he has on. He draws back and looks at my hands, gripping my upper arms as though he’s torn between letting me get on with it and stopping me too.

  Maybe Cory isn’t as certain of what we’re doing as I thought.

  “Allyson,” he says, and it sounds like a warning.

  “What?” My voice is high pitched, frantic. I’m trying to sound innocent but I’m not sure it comes across. I don’t want him to tell me we’re going too far or too fast. My crumbling self-confidence is on the verge of being stomped into the ground.

  He looks me in the eyes, desire flashing in the depths of his gaze. “Are you sure?” he asks in a voice that is so husky and low I can barely make out the words.

  I hesitate, bite my lip. My pussy throbs and I nod. They say men are ruled by their dicks but they’re not the only ones who crave sex enough to throw common sense out of the window.

  Cory takes over, removing the thing he has around his waist that houses all the equipment he needs to do his job. He turns to place it on my nightstand and then pauses. My eyes search for what he’s looking at and I spot the slightly open drawer and the glint of the handcuffs I have in there. Neither of us moves for seconds that stretch long and thin like taffy. I feel his hesitation. God, does he think I’m some kind of sexual deviant? I bet he sees handcuffs as totally unsexy implements of law enforcement.

  I’m waiting for him to say that he’s going to leave, and the utter humiliation sends my cheeks flaming. Just as I’m about to tell him he should go and save us both the embarrassment he steps forward and hooks them out of the draw with his index finger.

  His eyes glint with something I don’t understand. Amusement? Desire?

  “You an undercover officer, Allyson?”

  My already pink cheek must now be the color of beetroot.

  I shake my head and hide my face in my ha
nds.

  When I feel his fingers on my wrist I think he’s trying to pry my hands away so he can look at me. Then I hear the first clink of the cuff and look up in shock.

  “You like playing games?”

  His eyes are filled with fire. I can’t tell if he’s angry or turned on. Please let him be turned on. I glance at the floor. The naughty fantasies I had about him flash through my mind, strobing images of us naked, entwined, sweat soaked. My stomach flutters with anticipation and my already wet pussy clenches its approval.

  I nod once and wait. I want to know what he’s thinking so badly. Is he angry with me? Misusing cuffs might be something he feels very strongly about. Maybe he has a thing about consent. I’m sure he’s heard his fair share of horrible stories. Restraints aren’t always placed on women for their pleasure.

  “I had a feeling about you, as soon as I saw you,” Cory whispers. “You buzz with it, pushing and pushing with your sass mouth and confidence. Under it all, you just want to be owned.”

  I nod, still not looking him in the eye. I want to know if desire flares there. I want to see his expression, but I can’t look.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” he says coldly.

  I feel a frisson of arousal run up my spine and across my scalp. I hear the shaky breath escaping my lips as I comply.

  My hands are trembling as he secures the cuffs, the cool metal soothing against my wrists.

  He stands behind me, so tall it feels as though he’s looming. I love how powerful he is, how totally in control. The first touch of his hand on me since he made me powerless is gentle. He brushes the hair from my shoulder, stroking his finger down the column of my neck and over my shoulder. It feels so tender yet strangely ominous. I have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling. He puts his mouth close to my ear, hot breath gusting. I think he’s going to kiss me there, but he murmurs words of reassurance instead. “Any time you feel uncomfortable, just call me ‘officer’ and I’ll stop.”

  I nod and exhale loudly. He’s safe, is all I can think. Ninety-nine percent of me knew, but I’ve learned not to trust my gut instincts over the past few months.