DONKEY: A Stepbrother Sports Romance (With FREE Bonus Novel Charged!)

by Stephanie Brother

  “Tilly.”

  My voice is nothing but a whisper.

  “Tilly”, I say again, this time sweeping her hair away from her face.

  Nothing. She doesn’t even stir. Careful not to nudge her, or inadvertently step on her arm or leg, or chest, I mount the bed, my legs either side of hers, my crotch rested against the turn of her hip.

  “Tilly.”

  I start rolling my knees forwards into the softness of the mattress, gentle enough not to disturb her, but strong enough to create a kind of wave across the bed that lifts the pillow slightly and her head with it. She sighs, or breathes heavily, I can’t work out which, but it’s the first indication she’s coming to.

  “Landon.”

  I swear she says it without thinking, like it’s coming from her subconscious, because when she says it, it’s not a question, or even a recognition of me being there, it’s just a word, like it would have come out of her anyway, whether I was here or not. Landon. My name, hot on her lips, too fucking hot to stay inside her.

  It doesn’t last long because a moment later she really is awake and she’s fighting to push me off her.

  “What the fuck?”

  I resist for a moment, and then I dismount, both my stepsister and the bed, to stand alongside it.

  “What the fuck, Landon, are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “Chill out, Tilly, this is my room remember. What are you doing in here, in my bed, naked?”

  “I’m not naked.”

  It amuses me that she feels the need to cover herself up now that I’ve mentioned it. She’s not naked - it would have been interesting if she was - but I say it like that because I know the exaggeration will cheese her off.

  “And I was sleeping. What the fuck were you doing?”

  “In my bed?”

  “Yes, in your bed.” There is a pause before she qualifies it. “I was tired.”

  I don’t mention there is a perfectly good bed with her name on in right next to this one, but I don’t need to either. If she hadn’t given me her reason, I would have been able to see it now anyway, written all over her face. She’s been rumbled, and she knows it too. Tilly’s in my bed because she wants to be. It’s as simple as that.

  “It’s time to get up”, I say. “Don’t feel like you have to get dressed though, I like that T-shirt on you.”

  Tilly’s eyes dip to her chest, which she covers immediately with the duvet when she notices her nipples pushing bobbles into the fabric. It makes me chuckle seeing how prudish she is with her body.

  “Good dream?”

  “Fucking hell, Landon.”

  I know she would prefer me to leave to make this less awkward for her, but I’m not going anywhere. For a moment we just eyeball each other, while we wait for the other person to make a move. Tilly finally gives in with a grunted exclamation of frustrated anger.

  “You didn’t have to wake me up.”

  I watch her gather the duvet up so it covers her body, pick her sweatpants up off the floor as gracefully as she can without revealing herself, and barge past me into the living room, her back exposed and the blanket cinched around her like the thing was a modern dress and this was her attempt at some kind of weird new fashion trend. I lean against the door frame casually, happy to observe her.

  In her haste, it takes a moment for her to realize there are a couple of us missing. She gives a kind of token look around for them, before something dawns on her. I can’t tell whether it’s concern for my father’s health, or concern that we are now alone, for an as yet indiscernible period of time. She pauses her one handed search for clothes and stands up, urgently.

  “Where are Mom and Marvin?”

  “Hospital.”

  “What do you mean hospital. Why aren’t they here?”

  “They don’t know what’s wrong with Dad.”

  Tilly pauses for a beat. She’s mad, but this supersedes that, and I know she doesn’t want to be impolite.

  “Fuck, is he ok?”

  “They don’t know. We took him to some weird place in the middle of nowhere that didn’t even have vending machines in the corridor. I mean, what kind of hospital doesn’t have vending machines in the corridor? Anyway, they didn’t know what was wrong with him. They wanted to do tests, but they didn’t know what they were looking for, so I got a private ambulance to take him to New York.”

  “New York?”

  “You should have seen them in this place, Tilly. They didn’t even know what they were supposed to be doing with him.”

  “So where’s Mom?”

  I think Tilly already knows the answer to that question, but she’s being coy.

  “Rachel refused to leave his side, so she’s gone with him.”

  “Mom’s gone to New York?”

  I nod.

  “Is your dad ok?”

  “He’s fine. It’s probably just heat stroke or dehydration or food poisoning or something that’s going to make him feel stupid for being weak.”

  “Right.” There is a slight hesitation before she continues, perhaps as the reality of the situation begins to drip into her. “So what are we supposed to do?”

  There are several ways I can think of answering that question, none of which would be immediately appropriate.

  “Wait here for news.”

  “Alone?”

  “Together.”

  “Without them though?”

  “Yes.”

  “Until when?”

  “Until we hear.”

  “You and me.”

  “In the middle of nowhere.”

  “In the middle of nowhere.”

  I nod.

  “Fuck.”

  I can’t tell you how much I wish that was a question, nor how much Tilly probably does either.

  Tilly

  We can’t stay here. Not alone or together or whatever it is, we just can’t. It’s not that I don’t trust him either, it’s that I don’t trust myself. We are literally in the middle of nowhere and we are alone. Nobody can see us. Nobody can hear us. There’s probably not even a single thing alive in a half mile radius. The dead bird at the bottom of the garden is about as close as we’ll get. It’s a recipe for disaster, the perfect setting for something to happen. Something that I am bound to regret.

  This is Landon fucking Maddox. This is the man that has been filling my scrapbooks and my teenage fantasies for as long as I realized they were even a thing. This is the number one prize douchebag that is on every other billboard poster across the country. This is The Donkey, my fucking stepbrother now too, and here I am alone with him. If I don’t do something about it, I’ll end up doing something I shouldn’t. The last thing I need is my own stepbrother to fuck me and then fuck me over. Way to fuck up the new family, Tilly.

  No, I’m not going to let that happen. Even if he finally shows his cards, I’m not going to show mine. I’m not going to be that relief fuck that gets dumped all over when reality sets back in, when Shoreville are back on a winning streak and the coach gives Landon free reign, or when he just heads back to the city after this little vacation break is over and puts himself back into a situation where he’s surrounded by it.

  I’m not going to devalue myself like that, or stress myself out by competing with what he’s used to getting, and part of me just doesn’t want to anyway so Landon doesn’t get his way. No matter how good he says he is, or they say he is, or I expect he is, I’m just not going to do it. Perfect ass, incredible arms, huge cock or not. Definitely not. Uhuh. Not this girl. Not for a minute. It’s not going to work with me.

  “We have to go home.”

  “What do you mean we have to go home?”

  “Home, New York, you to yours me to mine. Home.”

  “I don’t think we need to do that. Your Mom said we should stay here. Besides which, we have to wait for news. We can’t just go back to New York because you can’t stand to be in the same room as me. Dad might be fine later on, and if h
e is, he’s going to want to come back.”

  “So we just stay here?”

  Landon can’t hide his delight that the possibility of that happening is making me agitated. He’s enjoying watching me squirm.

  “We just stay here, or we go to that bar, or we go for a walk, or we sit naked in the jacuzzi, or whatever, we stay here. Haven’t you always wanted to be alone with a superstar?”

  Yes, since, like, whenever, and no, absolutely one hundred percent not, because I know what you are like. I know just what Landon Maddox is like, and I bet he’s loving this situation even more than he’s letting on.

  “You tell me when that happens and I’ll show you how excited I get.”

  “You know there are a thousand women-.”

  “Yeah, you already told me that.”

  “Why do you hate me so much, Tilly?”

  Um, let me think. Is it the natural talent that oozes out of you or your almost God like perfection that annoys me the most? Is it because you demand to be the centre of attention, the arrogance that masks deep seated abandonment issues, or the fact that you think you’re just better than everyone else, period? Or is it really the fact that I hate you because you make me not want to, and I really, really should, for everyone’s benefit?

  “I don’t hate you, Landon. I-. It doesn’t matter.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  There is a gap of space between us that I wish I knew how to close.

  “It doesn’t matter, you know. What you think matters, it doesn’t.”

  There goes that subtext again.

  “And what is it that you think I think matters?”

  “The way you feel, what you do about it, the way I do.”

  “I thought you didn’t feel, I thought you just did.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.”

  “And it does matter, I thought you would have learned that by now, based on the situation you’ve found yourself in.”

  “Yeah, that. Well I suppose without it, I wouldn’t be here, so maybe it’s fate after all.”

  “Is that what you think this is? The same fate that made you my stepbrother.”

  “I guess you have to take the good with the bad.”

  “And what about the impossible?”

  “That’s not for us to decide.”

  I’m not even sure if we are having it, but if we are, this is already way too serious a conversation to be indulging in right now.

  “What are you scared of?”

  Mice, heights and having my heart broken. Making a fool of myself. Selling myself too cheaply, to Landon fucking Maddox. What people think. Being thrown away when I’ve been played with enough. Being The Donkey’s last fuck. I’m scared of being wrong about you.

  I realize I’m not saying anything. I think I’m trying, but nothing’s coming out.

  “I’m not some big bad wolf, Tilly. I’m not the person you think I am.”

  “What do you want, Landon?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Why is he so damn confident and blase about this? Why are we even having this conversation?

  “I like you.”

  “You seem to like every girl that crosses your path. Isn’t a skirt and a pulse the only criteria Landon Maddox needs? After that it’s win win for you, right? And you don’t like me, you just think you do.”

  “That’s funny.”

  “Besides which, if you are asking me what I think you are asking me, or telling me, or whatever, you may not have realized it yet, but you and I are step siblings.”

  “So what?”

  “Step siblings don’t fuck each other!”

  Did I just say that out loud?

  “You’ve obviously never been to Kansas.”

  “Landon, I’m serious.”

  “You need to chill out, Tilly. Let your hair down.”

  And let you get close, you mean? Let you get inside me and then let you get away like it means nothing? Let you break my heart?

  “I am chilled out.”

  “You don’t look it. You look nervous.”

  “Not everyone wants to get naked and jump in the jacuzzi.”

  “Not everyone wants to admit it, you mean. I did find you in my bed, after all.”

  “That was different.”

  “Yeah, I know, you were tired, right?”

  Tired, horny, confused, whatever you want to call it.

  “I wasn’t naked, and I wasn’t doing it to get you excited.”

  “No?”

  “No!”

  “What if I was to get naked right now?”

  “Are you that desperate for attention?”

  “Impossible situations call for extreme measures.”

  “You think getting naked in front of me is going to make me admit that I want you, is that it?”

  “Do you want me?”

  Yes. Here, over the couch, up against the wall in the bedroom, out on the decking, rolling around on the hot grass in the garden, across the table, deep and unprotected, I want you.

  I laugh nervously, and realize, again, that I’m not saying anything.

  “The world’s not going to end, Tilly, you know.”

  Please don’t take your shirt off, that’s the last thing I need.

  “What about your career? You’d risk never playing football again, just because you can’t keep your dick in your pants? Just because you’re horny?”

  I shouldn’t be looking at it, but I’m caressing it with my eyes. That perfect abdomen caught like a framed picture between the open sleeves of a recently unbuttoned shirt. I want it close to me, pressed against my belly, and I want to follow those lines with my fingertips.

  “You don’t look like the kind of girl that kisses and tells.”

  “That lack of judgment has got you into trouble before.”

  “I don’t think you’d risk breaking up the family then.”

  His shirt is now a crumpled mess on the floor, and I’m looking at the square shoulders of a perfect athlete. He can tell I’m looking and he knows what he’s doing to me. I’m aware I’m not telling him to stop either.

  “More importantly, why would I risk the disappointment?”

  Landon smiles at that. Cocky men are impossible to undermine and Landon is about the best definition you’ll get of that word. I don’t move when he closes the gap between us, nor when he’s standing so close I have to crane my neck to look up to him. I’m trapped against the wall now, and from here, it would be so easy to reach out and pull him into me.

  “I come with a guarantee of perfection.”

  I have to laugh a little at that. I expect I’m not the first girl he’s used that line on, and I probably won’t be the last.

  “Oh, yeah? And how long does that last? A day, or two. Wait, what was it, I think three months was about your longest wasn’t it?”

  “You tell me. For a girl that pretends she’s not interested, you seem to know a hell of a lot about me.”

  “I read papers. Most intelligent people do.”

  “You know what I think?”

  “I know you’re going to tell me.”

  “I think you’re worried you’ll get addicted.”

  Addicted? To those bulging biceps, that incredible muscle definition. Wait, that huge, delicious cock. Impossible.

  “I’m worried you’re making a mistake, that’s all.”

  “Then let me make it. I told you, Tilly. You’ve got to let your hair down a little bit and chill out. I know you want me, it’s written all over your face. The trouble is, you just don’t want to admit it.”

  Is this it? Is this where I confess and let him take me? Is this the beginning of the downward spiral or has the ball already begun to roll?

  “You just don’t want to admit that there are some girls that you just can’t have.”

  “There are a billion girls I can’t have, and a billion more I don’t want, you’re just not one of them.”

  “I don
’t think that’s for you to decide.”

  “You want me to carry on getting undressed so I can prove it to you?”

  Heart racing? Check. Moral compass set to explode? Check. About to make a decision I will regret later? Undoubtedly. Horny? Off the fucking scale.

  “I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”

  “I’m sorry, Tilly, you’re going to have to repeat that.”

  “I said-.”

  Am I doing this? Yes. It appears as though I am very much doing this.

  “Fuck it. Kiss me.”

  I’m telling Landon Maddox to kiss me. I’m telling my stepbrother, the notorious womanizer who, due to an above average sized penis, is lovingly referred to as The Donkey, to kiss me. Alright, a massive penis. I’m risking everything. I’m showing my cards and I’m putting the ball firmly into his court. Let’s see if he has the balls to do the same, and please, God, don’t tell me this is a wind up.

  “I’m sorry, did you just ask me-?”

  “Do it now, I’m not going to ask you again.”

  This could either be the worst decision I’ve ever made, or the best. I could be crying into my pillow in the next minute or screaming into it.

  “Nah, I don’t think-.”

  Landon pushes himself away from the wall and there is a horrible moment that passes before I realize that he’s winding me up. Before I can get out of his trap, kick him in the balls for being a dick, or get the words out in anger, he pushes me back against the wall so I’m basically pinned against it, and then leans in to give me the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life. I mean, seriously. I never thought it possible that a kiss - that is lips pressed against lips and tongues touching each other in the moist heat of a pair of mouths - could be so good, but Christ alive, this kiss is like heaven.

  When Landon pulls away, neither too soon nor after too long, I stand there for a moment just staring up at him.

  “Kiss”, I say, my tongue licking the sweet numbness at the edge of my mouth. “That was a kiss.”

  I sound like I’m in shock, which I kind of am, both with my decision to ask for it, and the result of the action itself. Slowly, the realization dawns on me. Not only that I’ve kissed Landon Maddox, and the world hasn’t exploded, but that I’ve kissed Landon Maddox, and I know I’m not going to be able to stop myself asking for more.

  This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.