Maxwell sprinted back with two items in his hands. In the process, he stripped off his suit and wore only his dress slacks. His tattooed body glistened with sweat and veins bulged under his skin. Alan wanted Max’s attention, but unfortunately, he got the wrong end of the eccentric billionaire’s consideration.
Maxwell’s mouth was firmly squeezed shut with his lips pursed in anger. He slipped one item into his pocket and the other was a white dish towel. Bending down, he dipped the towel delicately into the trickling water of the large marble fountain. Looking back to his captive friend, Maxwell wagged his finger at him.
“You! You fucked up. Whatever your issue is, I may have an inkling of an idea of what you are all worked up over. And, I’m going to tell you, I think you’ll find it best to leave. Let sleeping dogs lie.”
Alan struggled, but the security guard tightened his grip on his pinned. Max came face to face with Alan and gently wiped the blood away from Alan’s face.
“Well, you have my attention now,” Max surveyed the damage on Alan’s forehead as he spoke. “This is going to hurt so hold still.”
The security guard pulled Alan closer as Maxwell pulled another fragment from Alan’s wound. He shouted in pain as Max pulled it out. A small stream of blood began to spill from the wound.
“See! All you had to do was wait and ask,” Max calmly explained. The personality that the eccentric billionaire exhibited was a polar opposite from what Alan saw only moments ago. “So, were you serious about having to wait for me for the last five years?”
The security guard’s forearm clutched around Alan’s throat and he gasped for air. Blood was dripping from his chin and onto the large man’s arm. Alan stared back at Maxwell. The only thing that could come to mind, he knew would make matters worse.
“Look, I can make your life great. I’ve shown it time and again. If it weren't for me, you never would have made billions, let alone millions. You were nothing till I came along. You may as well have been giving hand jobs on the corner to put food on your table if it weren’t for me.” Max handed the cloth to the guard. “Here, hold this towel on that mess.”
The security guard freed his arm from Alan’s throat and firmly placed the towel over Alan’s injury. The heavier man pulled back on Alan’s head to keep him in place. Looking down, Alan saw Maxwell pull the other item from his pocket.
“Now, you know what,” Max slowly paced away from Alan as he spoke. “I’m a giving guy. I gave you my love and attention, my partnership, and my admiration. Hell, some of those deals you fucked up, I took care of them for you. So, technically, I was your client sometimes. Those people were merely pawns for me to acquire more assets and cash flow.”
As Maxwell circled the fountain, he approached his secured friend again. Coming within inches of his face, Max spoke quietly to him.
“Here I help you and you bite my fucking hand,” Maxwell sneered. “Look at the thanks I get! Huh! So, yeah, I hurt you. Then I cleaned your wound, like I normally do.”
Maxwell pressed his tongue against the inside of his lower lip. The crazed billionaire rustled his hair and then raised the object he had in his hand so that Alan could see what it was. In his hand was a cylindrical crystal salt shaker.
“No! No! Max, no, don’t do it, goddamn it!” Alan cried out.
“Get rid of that towel,” he ordered the guard. Max removed the salt shaker lid as the security guard threw the towel off to the side. Alan tried to struggle and began kicking at Maxwell. “Hold his legs down, dumbass!”
The security guard kicked the back of Alan’s knees so that he knelt to the ground. Pain radiated from Alan’s right leg. The security guard tightened his forearm back over Alan’s windpipe.
“And, so Alan, ‘the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,’” Maxwell shrugged as he emptied salt onto Alan’s wound.
The salt poured into the open cut and sent instantaneous pain throughout his head. Alan screamed and grimaced as some of the salt poured into his eyes. He writhed in pain and Maxwell cackled at his agony.
“Clean that shit off him!” he yelled at the guard.
The security guard stared blankly back at him.
“In the fucking fountain, idiot!” Maxwell pointed down to the fountain. “Hold him there a minute. I’ll tell you when he’s ready to come up.”
Alan sucked in a breath before the guard forced his head into the cold fountain water. The refreshing chill cooled Alan’s wound, but he found his wind escape him quickly. Desperately, he struggled in the guard’s arms.
“Up!” Maxwell yelled. Kneeling down to eye level with Alan, Maxwell again brought the salt shaker to dangle above his wound. “See how that works. I’ve done that again and again, year after year. You fuck up, and I make it right.
“And, now, it’s time to rinse and repeat.” Maxwell motioned for the security guard to dunk Alan in the fountain again.
In a burst of energy, Alan pulled his pinned slick-wet arm free from the guard. Quickly, Alan pushed the security guard’s arm up so that he could bite down.
With all the pain surging through him, Alan had no issue in biting down as hard as he could. Flesh crunched between his teeth and the taste of copper spilled onto his tongue.
“Ahhhh!” the security guard bellowed as he freed his grip from Alan.
Alan slapped the salt shaker out of Maxwell’s hand and the remainder of the salt spilled out and into Maxwell and the guard’s face. The 300-pound behemoth fell to the ground and convulsed about screaming while holding his face.
Maxwell staggered back, howling as he batted at his eyes, trying to clear the salt away. Alan tackled his former friend into the fountain. As Max splashed into the water, his legs buckled under him. His head crashed into the marble walls of the inside of the fountain and immediately lost consciousness.
Alan scrambled to his feet and turned to see the guard gathering his senses. Turning back to his former ally, Alan grabbed a handful of Maxwell’s hair. Filled with panic and anger, Alan lifted Max by his hair and flipped his body to face the marble corner of the fountain wall. He reared his leg up behind Max and looked to the guard.
“Don’t fucking move!” Alan ordered. “I will stomp his head all over the place!”
The security guard held his hands up and inched back. Alan tightly grasped Max’s hair in one hand, ready to pounce on the back of his former friend's head. Given the slightest move, Alan had no issue in squashing the security guard’s boss into the cold, wet marble fountain.
“Wake up!” Alan slapped Max in the face multiple times before he awoke. “Now, it’s my time, motherfucker!”
“Wha-what…Alan, Alan?” Maxwell desperately pleaded. “Don’t do it, man. Don’t do something you’re going to regret!”
“Then cut the shit and answer my questions!”
“Okay, okay, just let me go, I swear!” Max begged. “Please!”
Alan cautiously loosened his grip and Max gingerly sat up onto the fountain edge.
Looking down to stave off the growing pain in the side of his head, Maxwell gradually gained his bearings.
“Get the fuck out, Trent,” Maxwell softly told the guard. “Leave, you sack of shit.”
The security guard, holding his wounded arm, ran out of the entryway and down the hall.
Delicately, Alan sat next to Maxwell on the fountain’s edge, both men with their feet in the cold water. The trickle of water splashed back on the men, providing comfort to them as their heart rates started to slow.
“Talk!” Alan urged.
“What do you want to know? Huh?” Maxwell quietly responded.
“What kind of sick fucker are you? Did you think that I’d just be cool with you abusing my stepsister?”
“I didn’t do shit to your sister…”
“First of all, cut your tone back and she’s my stepsister!” Alan corrected him.
“Okay, okay, please, lower your voice and I’ll tell you.” Maxwell insisted.
“You remember Katrina?”
“Yeah,” Alan remembered the brunette in the porcelain mask with the purple gems.
“I told you on the phone today that she’d been hanging around here. Well, she practically clung to me. I couldn’t get away from her. So, it was after I kicked her out onto the patio.”
Alan nodded his head, recalling the story.
“Well, I closed and locked the door. She left my property and had to find a ride. So, she called your stepsister.” Alan winced at a sharp pain in his ribs and coughed in agony.
Confused, Alan looked at Maxwell and listened with curiosity.
“So, your stepsister…what’s her name…” Maxwell thought a moment. “Oh, yeah, Tiffany…Tiffany Dempsey…” He paused and smirked.
“What the fuck are you smiling about?!” Alan shouted.
“Man, serious, I’m not fighting anymore. If you want answers, you’d be best not to scream anymore. Come on, follow me.”
Both men stepped out of the large fountain and limped up the east wing stairs. Maxwell opened a door to a large room. Maxwell gripped the side of his head where a large knot started forming. He leaned down to a bedside table next to a large canopy bed, much like the one that Alan shared with the masked woman.
“What’s the point of this?” Alan asked softly.
Max sat on the bedside and pulled the bedside drawer open. He placed his hand on something and sighed before he spoke.
“So, you remember when I told you around a month ago about the masquerade ball?” Maxwell asked his battered associate.
“Yeah?”
“Well, you must not know how much I love you, bro.” Tears welled in Max’s eyes. “All I wanted to do was surprise you with something special. Something to show you what you mean to me.”
A stream of thick tears spilled down his cheeks and his lips curled downward. His disposition took a quick turn from violent and vengeful to sad and remorseful. Quickly, Maxwell wiped the tears from his cheeks and rubbed his eyes.
Impatiently, Alan moved in closer, trying to catch a glimpse of what he held in the drawer.
Maxwell snapped his head up to look at Alan. Tears continued to pour from his bloodshot eyes. His bottom lip quivered.
“You’re my only family, baby boy. That’s why I love you so much. You think that I don’t listen to you? That I don’t bother giving you the time of day? Is that it?”
Alan stared intensely at Maxwell, waiting for him to continue.
“I know you by now, you were just going to show up, have a few drinks and then leave. That’s the way it is for you. Work, work, work. You don’t even take the time to enjoy the finer things in life. So, since you weren’t going to stay, I thought I’d get you a present. I looked up your parent’s number…”
Alan’s stomach sank and he shivered. His jaw dropped as Maxwell revealed what happened.
“…and I told them that I wanted to surprise you at a masquerade ball by having your stepsister meet you here. They loved the idea and I arranged for her to arrive the day before the party. And, the only way she would do it was if she could bring her friend along.”
Alan’s legs buckled and once again he fell to his knees. Excruciating pain shot up from his right leg yet he hardly noticed. All he could do was intently listen to Maxwell.
“So, I said no problem…that’s where her classmate Katrina comes in. When she wouldn’t leave my house for the past few weeks, I started making up reasons to get her out of my house.”
“When I finally did get her to leave, I never expected your stepsister to show up. She came in here yelling at me and demanding an apology for her friend. So, I told her that she’d better shut up or I’d tell you what really at the masquerade ball.”
The room appeared to hum around Alan as he watched Maxwell slowly pull his hand from the drawer. In his hand was a mask adorned with green gems and speckles of painted stars surrounding the left eyehole.
“But…” Alan fumbled for words.
Maxwell stood up and dropped the porcelain mask down to his former friend. The mask shattered into tiny bits of glass and white dust. Alan stared at the mess it left and denial washed over him.
“She was blond. The masked woman was blond,” Alan reasoned.
“Yeah, but what was your stepsister’s hair color before, right?”
Holy shit, Alan mouthed.
Knowing the answer, Alan still asked, “But, how?”
“Really?!” Maxwell asked as he walked out of the room. As he left the room, Max paused long enough to respond. “Alan, you’re not a stupid man. Come on, think. I’m rich; I can get anything taken care of.”
Alan grasped the edge of the bed and scrambled to stand up. He turned to face Maxwell.
“But, why?” Alan asked.
Max, holding his wounded head, looked over his shoulder and at his friend.
“Alan, I’ll admit it, I’m not the best person in the world. And I do some fucked up shit. But, one thing I won’t do is screw my friend. You weren’t supposed to fuck your stepsister. I thought you’d arrive, recognize her and then be on your way. But, then she decided to fool you and ride out her childhood fantasies of being with you. Hmmm…amazing…”
“So, once she realized what she did, I guess she ran and hid back in this room where she was staying. The next morning, she came to me pleading to help her. I called a hair stylist, trimmed her hair and dyed it. End of story, Alan.”
Maxwell slowly hobbled away and walked down the stairs as Alan watched him.
“See yourself out before Trent comes out,” Maxwell called back to Alan. “He may not be too happy with you. And, I’m not going to stop him if he sees you.”
Alan left the Hart Family Mansion as quickly as his body would allow him. Now all he had to do was go home and figure out what to do. The masked woman was Tiffany. The lady he fell for despite their family ties. As he started his car, tears flowed down his face.
Tears of relief and tears of joy washed away his worries and he headed home to start life anew.
Epilogue
Battered and bloody, Alan limped in through his front door to see Tiffany sleeping on the living room couch. The lights were out and the muted-TV illuminated the room. He made his way to the kitchen, grabbed a dish towel and a few ice cubes from the refrigerator dispenser. As Alan walked toward the darkened living room, he placed the ice into the middle of the dish cloth, twisted it into a ball and placed it over his swelling forehead.
Delicately he dabbed the blood away from his lips and gingerly sat down on the couch next to his stepsister’s feet. His presence on the furniture woke Tiffany and her eyes blinked open. Dried tears streamed her cheeks and mascara had smeared around her sparkling blue eyes. As she rubbed her eyelids to get better focus, Tiffany startled awake instantly when she saw that Alan was beaten, bloody and disheveled.
“Oh, my God! Are you okay?” Tiffany sat up quickly and hugged Alan from the side.
Alan probed the inside of his lip with his tongue, feeling the loose skin that came from fighting Maxwell. He looked angry yet his heart felt betrayed. Tiffany could sense that he knew, but didn’t want to be the first to acknowledge it. It’s true—she’d fallen harder for him than ever before. This was no longer a childhood crush and now Tiffany was bearing a creation of both their doing.
“So…” he paused, cocked his head to the side and peered at Tiffany through his peripheral. “…you…uh…you’re pregnant?”
Tears welled in her eyes again. Tiffany was unsure of what would come next. How would she tell her father and Alan’s mother? Where else could she turn to? Now that her best friend, Katrina was gone, she had no one to fall back on. The young stepsister struggled for the right words when suddenly she felt Alan scoot closer to her. He placed his homemade ice pack on the couch.
Alan slipped one arm behind her and the other under her knees. Then, he stood up as he cradled her in his arms. Tiffany broke down crying into his chest and she kissed his neck. The safety of his arms was where she wanted to be and now that she knew
he was well enough to carry her, she knew all would be well.
Alan walked over to the guest room and placed her down on the bed. He straddled her midsection, removed his torn shirt to expose his skin. The two came together and kissed. Though the copper taste of blood was strong on his lips, Tiffany did not stop. All she wanted to do was make love to him.
Alan removed her red camisole top and slid her biker shorts off. Her nude breasts perked up at the chill of the open room and goose bumps covered her skin as he kissed his way all over her body. Just when she thought Alan would have his way with her for the first time since the party, he pulled her in close to his arms. He wrapped his legs around her and provided her body with much-needed warmth.
The two fell asleep with Tiffany in Alan’s arms. They silently declared themselves to be free of the burdens of stepbrother and stepsister because now they were lovers. And, after years of toiling away at building his riches, Alan knew that he finally had reason to stop and enjoy his work. He finally had someone that he could share his wealth and his life with for the rest of his days.
THE END
Stepbrother
Menage
By: Madelin Brook
Table of Contents
About the Story
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
© Copyright 2015 by Active Passion Publications - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
ABOUT THE STORY
ROMANCE: Mated to the Bear (Stepbrother Paranormal Shifter) (Threesome Taboo Romance) Page 45