Raging Hard: A Stepbrother SEAL Romance (With bonus novel Based!)

by Hamel, B. B.

  I grunted softly as I came, the image of Aubrie’s lips wrapped around my shaft echoing through my brain.

  Slowly, I calmed myself and cleaned up. I stood, sighing at the pain.

  I may have gotten off, but I was nowhere near satisfied. I wasn’t sure I ever would be again.

  The lights felt hotter than usual as I ran through the stretches. Pushing and pulling and moving, shaking out muscles, loosening aches and pains.

  “You’re getting stronger,” Tracey said as she stood up.

  I shrugged, catching my breath. “I’m already strong. My legs are just catching up to the rest of me.”

  She laughed. “I believe that.”

  I glanced over at Jess and saw her give me a slight nod. I figured she liked that line, which pissed me off a little bit. Ever since the charity event, I had been feeling more and more trapped by the cameras.

  Before Aubrie showed up, they were just another means to an end, another PR stunt to further my career. But suddenly they had become an obstacle standing in the way of something that I wanted more than anything else.

  “You ready for ten more?” Tracey said.

  “Always ready for more.”

  By the end of the halfway point of our morning session, I was already drenched in sweat and exhausted. I was probably pushing myself too hard, but I had something to work for, something more than just the ability to jump off tall shit again. We took our usual fifteen minute break, and I sat with my back against the wall, catching my breath as the crew wandered off. Jess approached me with this sly half smile.

  “How’s it going today, Based?”

  “Fine. How’s exploiting my image going for you?”

  “Come on, don’t be that way. We’re getting some good footage.”

  “I’m so glad I can be entertaining.”

  She smiled big. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

  I blinked at her. “What now?”

  She crouched down next to me. “We need more, Lincoln. You getting all sweaty is good, but we can’t just show you working out for two hours. We’re trying to sell this as an inspirational, meaningful piece.”

  “You have all my tapes.”

  “Yeah, we do. And that’s good. We’ll use plenty of that.”

  “And the interviews.”

  “Good stuff there, too. But we need to see you being a regular human, too.”

  “What, I’m not normal enough?”

  She laughed. “No, you’re a freak. We both know it.”

  I frowned, not sure if I should be pissed off or if she was trying to compliment me. “Where are you going with this?”

  “We need you to do stuff. See some friends. Talk to your family. Do anything other than mope around between PT sessions.”

  That definitely annoyed me. “I don’t mope. What the fuck do you want from me?”

  “I want you to do your job, Lincoln. Spend some time with your sister.”

  “Stepsister,” I correct her.

  “Whatever. Talk to your mother. Help out with one of her events. Call up some old high school buddies. Do something other than act so damn depressing all the time.”

  I clenched my jaw and struggled to my feet. Jess stayed crouched down and looked up at me.

  “Fuck you, Jess. I’m giving you as much as I can.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “Too damn bad.” I turned away and began to limp toward the door.

  “I’ll talk to him, if I have to.”

  I stopped and slowly turned back toward her. She stood up and smirked at me.

  “The fuck you just say?”

  “I’ll talk to him. I don’t want to, but I will.”

  “You think this is some fucking game? That you can threaten me with my stepdad and jail and whatever else?”

  “I need more, Lincoln. Just give me a little help with this.”

  “I’d rather rot in a fucking cell again than help you.”

  I turned and limped away, not bothering to listen to her reply. I was furious, beyond angry. I never thought the phrase “seeing red” could be literal, but I was literally seeing red. Everything was tinged red. I wanted to break something, to make something bleed, to punish something the way that I felt like the world was punishing me.

  I wanted to crush the whole fucking house in the palm of my hand.

  I ended up walking out the front door and slamming it behind me. I took a few steps out into the yard, breathing heavily.

  “You okay?”

  I looked over my shoulder at Brent the cameraman smoking a cigarette.

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  He shrugged and took a drag. “You look pissed.”

  I nodded at him. “Bum me one?”

  “Sure.”

  I hobbled over to him and took a cigarette and the lighter. I breathed deeply, flicking the lighter on, sucking the smoke into my mouth and inhaling it into my lungs. I handed him back the lighter as the nicotine hit my head, giving me a satisfying little buzz. I used to smoke all the time back in Europe, but ever since I had come back to the States, I had decided to quit.

  It was a stupid, disgusting habit. And in my rage it felt so fucking good to do something a little reckless. I wasn’t about to start smoking again, but one felt damn good.

  “I get it,” Brent said after a second.

  I leaned against the wall next to him. “You get what?”

  “Why you’re pissed.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Jess. She can be a real piece of shit sometimes.”

  I laughed, surprised. “Isn’t she your boss?”

  “Yeah, but whatever. It’s the truth.”

  I gave him a half smile, surprised. Brent was a nice enough guy, but he had been pretty quiet. I had to admit that I was surprised to hear him talking shit about Jess, especially to me.

  “I guess it is.”

  He laughed. “You guess? Come on. She films you working your ass off and looks at you like a zoo animal.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty fucking hot, and I’m pretty sure she’d put out for you in a second, but come on. She’s clinical.”

  “Clinical,” I repeated, grinning.

  “Yeah. Clinical. Like you’re this cadaver and she wants to dissect you or something.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Never heard it put that way before.”

  “Just the way I see it, I guess.”

  I took a deep drag of the cigarette. “Well, you’re not wrong, man. Except about the putting out part.”

  “Oh, no. I’m pretty sure that’s the truest part.”

  I grinned at him. “Nah. I wouldn’t touch her with surgical gloves.”

  He laughed. “I don’t blame you. But personally, I would totally hate fuck her.”

  “That’d be like hate fucking a punching bag. For me, at least.”

  “Pretty hot punching bag at least.”

  I laughed again and finished off the cigarette, dropping it onto the ground and grinding it out with my heel.

  “Thanks for that, Brent.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I moved to go.

  “Oh, by the way,” he said. I looked back at him. “Your sister was looking for you.”

  “Stepsister,” I corrected automatically.

  “Yeah, whatever. Stepsister. Aubrie. She was looking for you.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She didn’t say. I think she’s upstairs somewhere.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Something wrong?”

  I shook my head, composing myself. “Nah. Thanks again.”

  “Sure. See you in there.”

  A stone appeared deep in my gut as I pushed the front door open and walked back inside. Aubrie had been looking for me, which was the first time she had tried to break the silence between us. Nervous, but ready for whatever she had, I moved upstairs.

  As I limped down the hallway, I suddenly knew exactly where she
was going to be. It was fitting, in a way. If it was going to happen, it might as well happen there.

  If she was going to tell me we couldn’t do what I wanted so badly to do.

  I paused outside of the music room’s door and took a deep breath. I could already feel my cock slightly stiffen at the mere thought of being near her.

  I pushed open the door and grinned inside.

  Chapter Eleven: Aubrie

  His lips were soft but hard against mine, and his taste was exactly what I had always pictured it would be. Sweet and clean and gruff and more.

  The truth was, I should’ve ignored everything about it. I should’ve pretended like it never happened, like he hadn’t taken me in his arms and kissed me deeply, kissed me the way I had imagined it would be a hundred times. I should’ve pretended like it didn’t make me soaking wet to imagine his lips and his body near mine.

  Instead, I lay in my bed early in the morning, running my fingers over my swollen clit, thinking about him. I couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t help it. He was everywhere in my mind, from the way his muscles flexed when he moved to his cocky grin and confidence to the way he carefully kept any signs of pain away from his expression.

  I wanted to feel his skin against mine. I wanted to feel his dick slip inside me. I wanted to hear him grunt and groan as he fucked me deep and hard.

  Instead, I settled for my own hand slowly rubbing my clit in careful circles. Pleasure wracked through my body as I pictured him holding my hands up above my head and kissing down my neck.

  I wanted to ride him until I couldn’t breathe.

  I wanted every inch of him inside me until there was nothing left but him and only him.

  I wanted to watch his face as he came, sweat dripping off our bodies, our hips moving in rhythm together, pleasure destroying everything and rebuilding it better.

  As I pictured his strong arms grabbing my hips, I came, my back arching and my legs kicking slightly.

  I came to the thought of fucking Lincoln.

  As it slowly subsided, I pulled my hand out of my underwear, frowning. I wasn’t satisfied, not even close, but it was better than nothing. I couldn’t let myself get too close to him. It was way too dangerous, especially with his level of fame and the cameras around him all the time. Frankly, I was afraid of him.

  I was afraid of how I felt about him. I was afraid of what that meant, both for him and for me.

  Finally, I climbed out of bed, washed my hands, brushed my teeth, and got dressed. I checked the time, making sure that Lincoln would be busy with PT, and went downstairs to have some breakfast.

  Carefully, I stayed away from the room where he was working out. I didn’t want to risk hearing him grunt with exertion; I knew from experience that it would lead to me fantasizing about him all afternoon, and I really didn’t want to do that again.

  I poured myself some cereal and sat at the island. As I began to dig in, I heard a noise and looked up.

  “Morning, Aubrie,” Jules said.

  “Good morning, Jules.”

  She swept into the kitchen, all frilly clothes and flowing skirts, and grabbed a yogurt from the refrigerator. She leaned up against the island and smiled at me.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Fine, I guess. A little bored.”

  She laughed. “That’s perfect.”

  Inwardly, I sighed. “Why is my boredom perfect?”

  “I have a job for you.”

  I had been waiting for this. It was unlike Jules to go longer than a day without giving me some task, let alone five days. Those five days were probably my gift for working on the first event.

  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  She smiled sheepishly. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

  “What, do I have to kill someone?”

  She laughed. “No, nothing like that. Not exactly anyway.”

  “Okay, you’re freaking me out. What’s the job?”

  “I need you to convince Lincoln to donate some signed memorabilia and to attend a charity auction.”

  I blinked at her. “Why do you need me to do that?”

  “You two seem to be getting pretty close. Everyone remarked at the last event how good of friends you two seemed.”

  I struggled to keep my expression neutral. “I guess we’ve been talking more, yeah.”

  “Well, he doesn’t listen to me, so I thought maybe you could help.”

  “He doesn’t exactly listen to me, either, Jules.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t. But could you try anyway?”

  She had no clue what she was asking of me. If she did, she’d probably scream and go running for the hills. Or at least she would shun me for being such a weirdo.

  “Okay, fine,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll try. But no promises.”

  “Great!” she said, perking up. “It’s going to be so good for the cause. He made such a splash at the last one.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, sure. Lincoln hasn’t exactly been out in public much since his injury. I think there are rumors that he had died or something silly.”

  “That he died,” I said flatly.

  “Oh yes, you know, crazy stuff. So him showing up at the event was a big deal.”

  I hadn’t realized that Lincoln wasn’t doing public appearances, but it made complete sense. He wasn’t the type of guy to let people see him at his most vulnerable, which made the whole documentary thing seem a little off. But it made sense that he was only doing it to keep my dad off his back. So why show up at the event?

  True, I had cashed in my favor, but he could have easily just said no. It wasn’t like I had some real binding contract or something.

  “Anyway, I’m off to work out. Have a good day, dear.”

  “Okay, sure. Enjoy.”

  She walked quickly out of the kitchen, probably so that I didn’t have time to change my mind. Which was a real possibility.

  I sighed, finishing my breakfast, and looked around the kitchen. I checked the time again and realized that I had spaced out, thinking about what I was going to do with Lincoln. He would be finishing PT soon, and I needed to get out of the kitchen.

  In a hurry, I put my bowl in the dishwasher and moved out into the hall. As I turned the corner, I almost smashed headfirst into a totally surprised human. As I stumbled to one side, Lincoln’s cameraman, Brent, gave me a bashful smile.

  “You’re in a hurry,” he said.

  “Shit, sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine. Take it easy.” He turned to keep heading toward the front door.

  “Hey,” I said, and he turned back. “Are you guys on a break?”

  “Yep. Boss gives us a few minutes every day to ourselves.”

  “Must be nice,” I mumbled.

  “Seems to work so far.”

  “Do you know where Lincoln is?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I lose track of him as soon as the camera is off.”

  “Sick of staring at him?”

  “Yeah, but it’s nothing personal. You film the same thing over and over all day long, you’re bound to get tired of it.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “Anyway, want me to tell him you’re looking for him?”

  “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  I turned and left, though I could feel his eyes linger on me for a second. As I made my way upstairs, I realized that I barely knew the camera crew, despite them being around all the time.

  Brent was probably a few years older than I was, and he seemed like he was the leader of the crew. Jess was the director, but he was the guy that people seemed to turn to, or at least from what I had seen of them. Although we were all in the same house all the time, that was the most I had ever spoken with him.

  Then again, I was working pretty hard at avoiding them. So it wasn’t really a surprise that I didn’t know Brent very well. It wasn’t his fault.

  I stood at the top of the landing and sighed
. I hadn’t told Brent where I’d be all afternoon, so I decided to go to the one place where I was reasonably certain Lincoln would check for me: the music room.

  I stopped in my bedroom, grabbed a book, and then sat with my back against the wall in the music room. It was warm and comfortable, sunlight drifting in through the lace-covered curtains.

  Five days and I hadn’t said a word to him. Five days was a long time when you had something as huge as our kiss lingering in the air. I had no clue what it was going to be like, if he was going to be weird or not. But I couldn’t just keep pretending like he didn’t exist. Helping Jules with her event was as good an excuse as any to try to move past whatever was happening between us.

  Although I wasn’t sure I wanted to move past it. That was the whole problem.

  I didn’t get much reading done. I hadn’t really planned on it. After maybe half of a chapter, I heard the door push open. I looked up to see Lincoln standing there grinning at me.

  “I heard you were looking for me,” he said.

  “I might have been.”

  He took a few steps inside and crossed his arms. He was still slightly damp from the morning’s workout, and I had to admit that he looked pretty damn sexy. Between the muscles, the sweat, and the cocky grin, I suddenly was pretty sure I was making a mistake.

  “What’s up, Brie baby?”

  I closed my book and sat up. He crossed the room and sat down on the piano’s bench.

  “Quit calling me that. Makes me sound like a little kid.”

  “I was going for sexy adult, but whatever.”

  I refused to let him bait me. “Your mom wanted me to ask you something.”

  “Oh yeah? Why isn’t she asking herself?”

  “She thinks you’ll listen to me.”

  He laughed. “Why would she think that?”

  “Apparently, you made a big splash at the last charity event.”

  He paused. “Is that so?”

  “She wants you to help out with her upcoming charity auction.”

  He frowned. “I only went to the last one because I owed you.”

  “I know. But I couldn’t exactly tell her that.”

  “What does she need?”

  “I’m not totally sure. Some memorabilia, I guess. You’ll sign some stuff. Probably just make an appearance.”