Stepbrother Bastard

by Colleen Masters

  “You have no idea,” he growls, as a low moan rises from my throat.

  I can feel the raw, searing need for him coursing through my very blood as my heart pumps wildly. How could I have ever doubted my body’s response to this man? This gorgeous, singular man? I arch my back as his kisses along my collarbone, pressing his lips to the soft rise of my breast.

  “I hope you’re the only one working here today,” I breathe, grinning wickedly as rivulets of rain water course down my skin.

  Cash raises his eyes to mine, fiery want smoldering there in his hazel-tinted gaze. In response, he grabs me by the hips and pulls me up into his arms. I wrap my legs around him, pressing my lips to his as my short pencil skirt bunches around my hips. Without another word, he carries me over the threshold of the shop, slamming the door behind us.

  * * *

  “How do I look?” I ask Cash, stepping back into the shop’s private back office from the adjoined bathroom.

  He turns around to face me, buckling his belt. His rippling, shirtless torso is still flushed from our vigorous reunion on the office’s well-worn leather couch. A smile spreads across his face as he takes in the sight of me, standing before him in nothing but his white tee shirt and a pair of navy blue cotton panties.

  “Very nice,” he laughs, as I do a little spin for him, “It’s a good look for you, Porter.”

  “Why thanks, Hawthorne,” I reply, settling back down on the trusty leather couch, “It’s nice, having something dry to wear.”

  “You were pretty eager to get out of those wet clothes in the first place,” he teases me, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap.

  “Excuse me,” I laugh, “But I seem to recall that you were more than happy to get me out of them.”

  “I guess we’re both a couple of sex fiends,” he grins, circling his arms around my waist.

  “Might as well accept ourselves for who we are,” I sigh, brushing the curls away from his face. The stubble along his jaw is darker than I’ve ever seen it. As if he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered with self care these past several days. The empty whiskey bottle sitting on his desk only fuels to my notion that he’s been aching every bit as much as I have. But I get no satisfaction from knowing that we were joined in our misery. All I want is for him to be happy.

  “Why do you look so concerned all of a sudden?” Cash asks, giving me a playful tug.

  “I just feel so badly for how I left things,” I murmur, “It was wrong of me to leave you back there at the house. There was just so much going on—”

  “That’s for fucking sure,” he says, shaking his head, “But you’re here now, aren’t you? We don’t need to drag all that shit back up.”

  “I’m sorry, is all,” I tell him, “I need you to know that.”

  “Well. I’m sorry too,” he says, “The ultimatums, the big talk…you didn’t need that from me. Not after the bomb our parents dropped on us that night.”

  “Have you, uh…heard anything else? About their plans?” I ask him, tracing my fingertips absently across his chest.

  “I left that place about two seconds after you did,” Cash tells me, “Haven’t heard a word since. Luke’s back at Sheridan, now. And Finn’s pissed off back to Portland, or so I hear. You never can tell with him. Good old Mom and Dad are on their own to fuck their shit up however they like, now.”

  “God. How did everything get to be so messy?” I ask, shaking my head.

  “Maddie…we’re out of there,” Cash says softly, running his hands down my arms, “Let’s just put it behind us. I like the view right in front of me much better.”

  “I can’t just forget everything that happened at that house,” I tell him, “Everything that’s still happening between our families. Our parents. I mean, they’re already moving in together. What if things go even further? What if they want to get married, or—”

  “Slow down, would you?” he cuts me off, “First of all, take a breath. Nothing like that is going to happen, Maddie.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I ask him.

  “Because there’s no way my dad is going to get married again,” he says simply, “That’s the one thing I know to be true in this world. Hell, he’s been driving it into my head since I was in the single digits that marrying my mom was the biggest mistake of his life. My brothers and I were raised to believe that monogamy and marriage are bullshit.”

  “That’s encouraging,” I scoff, raising an eyebrow.

  “I said we were raised to believe that. Not that we actually do,” Cash laughs, “Do I seem like a man who can be told what to think?”

  “Not in the slightest,” I reply, lowering myself to the couch next to him and curling up against his side. “I just wish I could put the whole thing out of my mind. Focus on this. On us.”

  “Why don’t you try it?” he says, putting his arm around me. “Don’t think of me as part of that whole Hawthorne-Porter shit show. Think of me as a sexy stranger you met in a bar. A sexy stranger you had your coworker track down like some kind of creep so you could get a little more tail…”

  “That is not what happened,” I laugh, giving him a little shove.

  “Oh no?” he grins, “‘Cause it sure seems like—”

  “Allie tracked you down all on her own,” I tell him, “And to be honest, she was acting more as my best friend than my coworker at the time.”

  “Ah. So the best friend already approves of me? I’m knocking this one out of the park,” Cash says. “Does she know about our, uh, situation?”

  “Not really,” I admit, “I mean, I told her about that first night. She has photographic evidence, for god’s sake.”

  “Ohh,” Cash says, “She’s the one who made the one night stand bet with you? Remind me to thank her when I meet her.”

  I sit up straight, looking at Cash with surprise.

  “When you meet her?” I ask him.

  “Well yeah,” he says, settling back on the leather couch, “For this ad campaign or whatever the hell you’re working on.”

  “You mean…you’d actually be interested in taking the Asphalt job?” I ask him incredulously, “For real?”

  “Why not?” he shrugs, “You’re gonna pay me, right?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “And from what your friend said, all I have to do is come to some parties and let you film me doing the job I’m already paid to do anyway?” he goes on.

  “That’s…the long and short of it, yeah,” I smile slowly.

  “Then I don’t see why I wouldn’t take it,” he says simply, lacing his fingers behind his head. “This is my shop. It’s not like I have to ask for permission. Besides, how could I deprive the good denim-buying people of America a look at this kisser of mine?”

  “You know that most of the events will be in Seattle?” I ask him tentatively.

  “How convenient,” he says, “I’m pretty sure I’ve got a place to crash there.”

  I look away from him, shocked at this turn of events. I admit, I haven’t had a chance to think past this afternoon. I figured I’d get to use this “interview” as an excuse to see Cash again. But past that…is it really a good idea to involve him in my work life? What if that added stress just brings this thing crashing down? A crease crops up between his eyebrows as I fall into silence.

  “What is it?” he asks, cocking his head.

  “I’m just. I wasn’t—”

  “Do you not want me to come or something?” he asks bluntly.

  “What? No! I mean yes, I think,” I blather, “It just never occurred to me that you would.”

  “You need to stop trying to figure out what I’m gonna do next,” he laughs, standing up and striding toward the fridge across the office. “You’ll be wrong nine times out of ten.”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to get that impression,” I say, as Cash pops open the fridge and pulls out two bottles of beer.

  “Let’s say that I’m down to take this little job of yours,” he goes on, opening the
beers with his belt buckle. “What happens next?”

  “Well…I was supposed to come here today solely to get a ‘yes’ from you,” I laugh. “And your signature on the dotted line, of course.”

  “Guess you got a little more than you bargained for,” he grins, handing me a beer, “No shame in that. You’re a, uh…shrewd negotiator.”

  “Or something,” I laugh, taking a swig of beer.

  “So, you’ve got me on board,” Cash goes on, “Now what?”

  “Now…I guess you come to Seattle and meet the ReImaged team,” I tell him. “That is, the people I work with…”

  “You don’t sound too excited about that,” Cash observes, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s not that,” I rush to assure him, “I guess it just feels like asking for trouble. We already have plenty of baggage between us with our family situation.”

  “The way I see that, me coming to work for you could solve all that,” he replies.

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because,” he explains, “Working together would give us a whole new context of knowing each other. Our families wouldn’t be our only connection anymore. We could just pretend we really did meet at a bar, and forget the rest ever happened.”

  “You mean…hide the fact that we’re secretly almost-step-siblings from everyone we’ve ever met?” I ask, marveling at how ordinary this bizarre conversation feels.

  “Pretty much,” he shrugs.

  “While also lying to our families by pretending we’re not secretly screwing like rabbits?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  I stare up at Cash across the room, my mind reeling. Do I really want to spend the foreseeable future leading some kind of crazy double life? Lying to everyone I know in some capacity? How can a healthy relationship possibly emerge from such a tangled web of deceit? Hell if I know. But sitting here alone with Cash, tucked away from the rest of the world, is the only thing that truly feels honest. So what if we have to lie for a while, in order to live our truth?

  “So, what do you say?” he asks softly, “Think you can handle me crashing your real life?” I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not.

  “I have no idea,” I tell him honestly, “But I thought you said I wasn’t supposed to be thinking ahead?”

  “You aren’t,” he winks, “It was a trick question. Good job, Porter. There may be hope for you yet.”

  “You’re a real sonofabitch, you know that Cash?” I say, tucking my legs under me.

  “Yeah, I’ve gotten that before,” he shrugs, “But you know what that makes you?”

  “Out of my goddamn mind for being crazy over you,” I reply in all seriousness, taking in Cash in all his shirtless, beer slinging glory.

  “That about covers it,” he smiles, letting his eyes rake down my barely-clothed body. “You know…I don’t think this storm is gonna let up any time soon, Maddie.”

  “Oh no?” I ask innocently, peering up at the rain-splattered office window.

  “Nope,” Cash sighs, striding across the room toward me, “That means I probably won’t have any more customers today. I can close up shop right now. And I don’t think you should be driving all the way back to Seattle tonight.”

  “It probably wouldn’t be a very good idea,” I agree, swinging my feet around to the floor. I let my knees fall ever-so-slightly apart as Cash approaches. “Do you know any place I might be able to stay tonight?”

  “There is a motel over by my favorite roadside bar…” he grins, drawing to stop before me. “Maybe you know it?”

  “Oh, I believe I’m intimately acquainted with that place,” I smile up at him, taking another long sip of beer.

  “Hmm…” Cash murmurs, trailing his fingertips down my bare leg. “Want me to jog your memory anyway?”

  “Yes please,” I breathe, as he sinks down onto his knees before me.

  My head falls back against the black leather as Cash sets down his beer and places his cool hands on my thighs. Lowering his full lips to my skin, he kisses me just above the knee. Trailing his kisses slowly up my thigh, he pulls my hips forward, drawing me to the edge of the couch. That spot between my legs begins to throb as he presses my knees apart. Just moments ago, I thought that fervid desire was fully sated by our enthusiastic “hello again”…but I’m starting to realize that when it comes to Cash Hawthorne, I’ll always have an appetite for more.

  I hold my breath as he closes his teeth around the band of my panties, glancing devilishly up at me. He tugs the cotton garment with his mouth, easing it down over the rise of my ass, the slender lengths of my legs. Tossing my underwear aside, he turns his gaze to me. A low groan rises in his throat as I let my legs fall apart, opening even more of myself to him.

  Looks like I’m not the only one who hasn’t had their fill quite yet.

  Without a word, Cash lowers his mouth to my aching slit. My back arches as I feel his warm breath against my wetness. My long, low moan rises above the sound of the rain pounding against the roof as Cash runs his tongue all along the length of me. His expert tongue strokes my pulsing, eager sex, sending shockwaves of pleasure up through my whole body. I gasp, grabbing hold of the sofa for dear life as he pushes back my flushed, pink flesh and exposes my raw, aching clit.

  “Oh, fuck,” I cry out, as he flicks that tender nub with the tip of his masterful tongue. “Oh my god, right there…”

  “Oh, I know…” he growls, sliding two thick fingers inside of me as he traces quick, firm circles around that exposed button.

  My cries erupt in the otherwise quiet room as Cash bears down on my clit with his exquisite mouth, thrusting his fingers deep inside me all the while. I can feel myself hurtling toward the heights of bliss, totally at the mercy of Cash’s ardent attentions. I’m out of control, unable to form a single thought, a coherent plan of action. Now, as ever when I’m with Cash Hawthorne, I can stop overthinking—stop thinking at all—and be in the moment with him. And as he wraps his firm lips around my throbbing clit, sucks hard and fast enough to make me come like mad, I know there’s not another moment I’d rather be living in.

  As my body and mind come floating back down from the heights of bliss, I look down at Cash as he licks the taste of me from his lips.

  “I have to say, Maddie…” he grins wickedly, “It’s already been a pleasure doing business with you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The rest of my “work day” flies by in a rush of ardent lovemaking and shattering bliss. Cash closes up shop, and we have each other every which way before finally falling into a deep, satisfied sleep. His apartment takes up the second floor of the shop—a modest bachelor pad roughly the same size as my Seattle studio. We tumble into his bed just after midnight, spent from our day-long fuck fest of a reunion.

  My eyes flutter open at the first sign of day, and I’m almost taken aback at how peaceful I feel—comfortable, warm, and safe. Cash and I are wrapped up in a well-worn quilt, totally naked, our limbs entwined. Could it really be possible to begin every morning this way? Could two people ever be so lucky?

  Moving as little as possible so as not to disturb Cash, I reach down to where his phone is laying on the floor. Rolling onto my belly, I note the time. It’s only five in the morning. I guess my body couldn’t wait to get back up and at ‘em…and by ‘em, I mean Cash, of course. It isn’t until I note the date beneath the time displayed on the phone that it hits me.

  It’s Tuesday morning. I’m expected back at ReImaged at 10a.m.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” I groan.

  “Hmm? What?” Cash mutters, waking at once as he hears the distress my voice, “What’s wrong, babe?”

  I glance over at him, the gears of my mind spinning like mad. If we’re going to set off on this next crazy adventure together, we may as well get a move on. There’s not a moment to lose.

  “How would you feel about a little road trip, Hawthorne?” I ask him, a mischievous grin spreading across my face.

  After two very strong cups of
coffee and a shower that only lets us indulge our dirty side one more time, Cash and I hit the road. I lead the way in my beat up car while Cash follows on his beloved bike. All along the way, I can’t help stealing glances at him in my rearview mirror. With his leather jacket, sleek half-shell helmet, and dark jeans, he’s every bit the prototypical bad boy biker. A real heartbreaker. But then why does my heart feel safer with him than ever before? Maybe I’m making a huge mistake, thinking I know the first thing about tangling with a man like Cash Hawthorne.

  But it’s too late to turn back now.

  We swing by my favorite vintage shop in Seattle just after it opens, and I grab the first few articles of clothing I see. Can’t show up to work wearing yesterday’s clothes with a sexy stud in tow, can I? I shed my rain-washed clothes in the dressing room while the shopkeeper sees to me, eyebrows raised at the motorcycle-straddling hunk waiting for me outside.

  “There must be a pretty good story there,” the young woman observes, ringing me up.

  “You have no idea,” I mutter, smiling at Cash through the shop window.

  Thus attired to appear like I haven’t been fucking for the past 24 hours, I set off toward ReImaged with Cash trailing behind. Carol and Brian are going to be pretty pleased with this little surprise I’m bringing them. Hell, I’m pleased too, knowing there’s a new place for Cash in my real life…even if that place is “eye candy” for my latest marketing endeavor.

  Hey, it’s better than nothing.

  Cash and I stand side-by-side before the front doors of my agency, pausing to compose ourselves as best we can. He shoots me a sidelong glance, chuckling at how nervous I am.

  “It’s not like you’re bringing me home to meet the parents,” he points out, “That ship has already sailed, remember?”

  “This is absolutely insane,” I breathe, smoothing down my newly purchases yellow sundress. “Do you seriously think we can pull this stunt off?”

  “If anyone can, it’s us,” he remarks, “And it’s not like we don’t have the motivation, right? The only question is, how am I going to keep my hands off you long enough to get through this meeting…?”