Stiff: A Stepbrother Romance (Includes bonus novel Cocked!)

by Hamel, B. B.

  “Yes, I really do,” she said, biting her lip as I began to slowly slide my fingers in and out.

  “You don’t know how fucking hard that makes me.”

  “Let’s find out.” She pushed me away and rolled on top of me, sliding down and unbuttoning my jeans. She pulled them off my legs and tossed them aside.

  “Look at you, taking charge,” I said.

  “Just trying to do my part.”

  I sat up and grabbed her hair, pulling her toward me. I kissed her rough as her hand began to stroke my cock.

  “Don’t forget who’s in charge,” I whispered.

  “Never.”

  I let her go and she pulled off my briefs. She wasted no time in sucking my cock, pressing my thick, hard tip between her lips and sucking it hard.

  I loved that she wasn’t playing around. There was something intense in her, serious. Gone was all the uncertainty, gone was any semblance of hesitation. She wanted it, and we both knew it. We didn’t have to pretend like it was wrong because we were stepsiblings or because I was her boss or any other fucking idiotic reason.

  I watched her pretty lips slide up and down my dick, and desire flooded through me. I pressed her head down, fucking her mouth. She grabbed her tits, holding them as I fucked her mouth.

  She finally pulled back, my cock sliding from her lips with a pop. “God you’re so fucking sexy,” I whispered. “Those lips are unreal.”

  “Oh yeah?” she said, stroking my cock, wet from her spit.

  I sat up and pulled off my shirt. I saw her bite her lip as she looked at my muscles, my body. I pulled her forward, putting her on all fours. I slipped a hand behind her and began to rub her clit and fuck her pussy with my fingers.

  I slapped her ass with my free hand and she moaned. I knew she loved it, so I slapped her again, and harder. “Come on,” she moaned. “Fuck me. Don’t make me wait and beg again.”

  I smiled and reached into my nightstand, grabbing a condom. “On your back. Open your legs.”

  She did as I asked, legs spread wide. I loved her soaking pussy waiting for me, bare and ready. She watched as I opened the condom and slid it over my cock, moving slowly just to tease her.

  Finally, I pulled her hips toward me and eased my cock down between her legs, slipping it deep inside her.

  She let out a low, deep moan.

  “Ah fuck,” I said. “It’s like you’re tighter every time.”

  “I need it, Easton,” she moaned. “Fuck me.”

  I grabbed her hips harder and began to thrust, giving her what she wanted. She grabbed her tits, moaning wildly as my thrusts grew deeper, rougher.

  “God I love how much you beg for it,” I said. “I love filling this tight, soaked pussy. You make me fucking come fire.”

  “Ah, Easton,” she moaned. “I want to come on your thick cock. Keep fucking me.”

  I rubbed her clit with one thumb, fucking her deep. She writhed from the pleasure and I loved it.

  “You want me to fuck you without mercy? Make you take my thick cock?”

  “Please,” she groaned.

  “You’re not ready for it.”

  “Easton,” she gasped.

  I grabbed her hips again and began to fuck her rough. I reached up and held her hands above her head, pinning her down. I kissed her neck, my cock thrusting and sliding into her. Deep slaps of skin filled the room as my cock filled her tight pussy.

  “I want to watch you come. I want to get you off until you can’t think anymore,” I whispered.

  I held her down as I fucked her rough and deep. She moaned loudly, taking my cock, letting me fill her deep and rough.

  I pulled out suddenly, making her gasp. I moved back and pulled her on top of me. “Ride it,” I commanded.

  “Fuck, okay.” She wrapped her knees around me.

  “No. Like this.” I lifted her up, onto her feet. She leaned forward, hands propping herself up on my chest, as I pushed my cock up and into her.

  She moaned into my ear. “Oh shit, Easton. I’m getting so close.”

  “Ride it, Laney.” She began to move her knees and hips, moving up and down. I held her ass, supporting her as she moved.

  She moaned loudly, her ass slapping against me, as I began to thrust into her. I fucked her hard and rough, using all my strength to press deep into her. She rode me back, working her hips, slamming back down onto my hard cock.

  She slipped down onto her knees, pressing me back flat. Her hips began to work in circles, riding and working. I let her set the pace, matching her rhythm with my thrusts.

  I could see it was coming. I could feel it in her body. Her eyes shut as I fucked her, feeling her tits and ass.

  And then she started to come. She said nothing, only moaned loudly. She couldn’t ride anymore, so I continued thrusting, fucking her through the orgasm, pushing her over the edge and deep into it.

  I watched her body convulse, her muscles tense and relax. Her mouth hung open, a half smile, an expression of pure ecstasy.

  “Oh fucking fuck,” she said as it finally finished. “Holy shit.”

  I laughed, holding her tight against me. “Yeah?”

  “Fuck.”

  I grinned wickedly and pulled out, pushing her away. I got her onto all fours, making her gasp.

  “You want me to be nice?” I said.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I want you to come in this pussy.”

  I smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I grabbed her hips and thrust my cock deep between her legs. I slapped her ass, fucking her rough.

  Her body drove me insane. Nothing else mattered as I fucked her. All of my problems, my lies, the pain, and the nightmares of the last year melted away as I fucked her tight pussy. She moaned and worked her hips, encouraging me, wanting me to come inside her.

  And I wanted it badly. I wanted to fill her with my hot cum, to make her mine. Because as I fucked her, our bodies sweating and one, I knew that I was always going to want her to be mine.

  The orgasm hit me hard. I came liquid fire deep inside her. She said my name, over and over as I thrust and pumped inside her.

  That was what I needed. I wanted her to say my name, again and again.

  We collapsed together onto the bed, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before I spread her legs open and made her mine again.

  Whatever else happened, it almost didn’t matter.

  The night of sweaty sex still buzzed through my skull as I drove to my office the next morning.

  We never even heard our parents come home. Fortunately, the house was big as hell, so they never noticed that we were sequestered in our own little room, exploring each other for hours on end.

  She was insatiable and so was I. Nothing felt better than fucking over and over until you hit your absolute limit of exhaustion. Spent and satisfied, we fell into a deep, deep sleep.

  It had been a long time since I’d felt that way about someone. I’d been with other girls in the meantime, but they were always a one-night thing. I’d fuck them and then move on to the next thing. My demons never let me slow down, not even for a second. If I thought about settling, the nightmares would come back.

  Which was why I was always on the move, drinking to forget. That worked for a while, but it wasn’t a permanent solution and never could be.

  Catching this killer, and maybe being with Laney, could be my solution.

  I was tired of weakness, tired of emotion. I wanted to hunt down this bastard with a single-minded devotion, and I wanted Laney there by my side.

  Feeling decent for the first time in a while, I parked out front of my office and stepped out of my car.

  Instantly, a strange feeling washed over me. I couldn’t tell if it was just a strange coincidence or if it was from years of FBI training, but I suddenly felt like someone was watching me.

  I glanced around, but there was nobody even close to me.

  Shaking my head, I went inside.

 
; As I moved down the hallway, the feeling didn’t go away. As I approached my door, I felt almost dizzy with it.

  I put my hand on the knob. The door swung open.

  I stepped back. I had locked the door when we’d left. I reached into my pants and pulled out my gun, gently cocking the slide back. Pressing myself against the door, I quickly pushed into the office, gun held out.

  It was trashed. Papers were strewn everywhere, the cabinets were all pushed over, and even the heavy wooden desk was tipped forward.

  I moved through the space, careful to check my corners, relying on my training. I swept the whole apartment, room after room, and found nobody.

  But the place was a fucking wreck. Whoever had broken in had tossed the place over so thoroughly that I couldn’t even find my whisky bottle. At first glance I couldn’t tell what was missing, but it had to be a lot of stuff.

  I had come back to grab some important documents, but I could see that was probably useless. Instead, I checked on the photographs in the bathroom.

  Most of them were there. I picked through a few I might need, stashing them in my bag. I had a nagging feeling that something was missing, but I couldn’t tell.

  I went back out into the office and began to sort through the files. Most of it was still there, just strewn all over the place.

  Shivers ran down my spine. I knew who had broken into my place, but I really didn’t want to admit it.

  Quickly though, that unease turned into anger.

  The bastard had been here. Whoever it was had found my office and had broken in, had gone through my shit, had violated my personal fucking space. My office had been my sanctuary and my home for so long, and now it was tainted.

  I shook my head, seething. It took me almost an hour to pick through the files, but eventually I found what I needed. They were mostly dossiers on people who were closest to the Seed case back in the day.

  I backtracked into my bathroom slash film development lab and began to sort through the pictures again. That nagging sensation of missing something came back to me, hard.

  And then I noticed it. When Laney had first started with me, I had taken some pictures of her, but those pictures were missing.

  In fact, every picture of her was gone.

  I went back out into the main office, my stomach filled with dread.

  The file I had made on her when she had first started was also missing. I had a habit of starting a file on people, just in case I ever needed it.

  All of her pictures. All of her materials. As far as I could tell, that was everything that had been taken.

  Anger flooded through me, anger and worry. I quickly gathered my shit and left, shutting the door behind me but not bothering to lock it.

  As I got closer to my car, I began to run, my fists clenched, my jaw tight, uneasiness filling my chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Laney

  It was like floating on a cloud. Maybe that’s a cliché, but that was how I felt.

  Easton had worked my body all night, worked me harder than I ever had been worked before. By the end of it, I was ready to pass out, completely spent and exhausted.

  I felt great the next morning. Easton was sleeping beside me, his body taut and strong, and I couldn’t help but admire him as he slept.

  Everything was such a blur. It all rushed by, faster and faster, and I had no clue where any of it was leading. We were dealing with an insane murderer, apparently hell bent on getting after Easton. And yet all I could think about was his sex, his body, his fingers, and his cock.

  After he woke up, we ate breakfast. We barely saw our parents since they were leaving early and working late. It was almost as if we lived in the big house alone together and everything was ours.

  It felt good to play house with him, even if it was just for a morning.

  “I’ll be back in an hour or two,” he said.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Got to grab some things from the office.”

  I nodded, stretching lazily. I was wearing only a pair of boy shorts and a tank top. “Are you sure you want to leave?”

  He grinned, kissing my neck. “Not at all, but someone has to do some work.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself.”

  “You stay just like this. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Okay.”

  He kissed me quickly and then left.

  The house felt huge without him around. I spent the next half hour messing around with Facebook, basically killing time. My mind kept roaming back to the way Easton made me feel, the way he worked my body, his incredible hunger for me.

  Sure, he was cocky. Sure, he could be an asshole. But there was something else inside him that I was beginning to see more clearly, something special, something that I wanted to understand. He let me see glimpses, but he never fully let me in.

  After another few minutes, I heard the front door open and slam shut. Smiling to myself, I opened the bedroom door.

  “Easton?” I called out.

  There was no response.

  “Dad? Susan?”

  Nothing.

  Frowning, I went back into my room and put on a pair of pants and a long-sleeve T-shirt. I slipped my cell phone into my pocket and then I opened the door back up and walked softly back into the hallway, heading down the steps.

  I stopped in front of the front door. It was still slightly ajar. I pushed it closed.

  Who would come inside and leave the door open?

  Frowning to myself, I walked toward the kitchen. “Easton?” I called out. “Where are you?” Up ahead, I heard the sound of running water.

  I looked into the kitchen and frowned. The faucet was running, but nobody was in there.

  I walked over to it. “Easton? You left the water running.” I turned the valve and the water stopped.

  Tingles ran down my neck.

  “Easton isn’t here,” a voice whispered.

  I whirled around.

  He was standing there, inches away from me, this sick smile on his face. His face looked familiar for some reason, but I couldn’t place it. He was young, maybe even my age.

  I tried to run.

  He grabbed me, throwing me back against the counter.

  “Stop! Who are you?” I screamed.

  “Sorry, Laney,” he said in a singsong. “You can blame your stepbrother for this.”

  Dark, freezing chills settled in the pit of my stomach.

  I knew it was him. I just knew. It couldn’t be anyone else.

  I tried to run again, but he hit me. Stars flashed into my vision as his fist smashed into my head. I grunted and stumbled.

  He laughed. Sick and loud, he laughed.

  “Laney, Laney. He isn’t here, so don’t struggle.”

  “He’s going to get you,” I said.

  He kicked me in the stomach.

  “Good,” he hissed. “I hope he finds me soon.”

  The last thing I remembered was a rag being shoved against my face.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Easton

  My tires screamed, burning rubber as I turned into the driveway of our house. I threw the car in park and jumped out, leaving it running, not thinking about anything but Laney.

  My heart nearly fell from my chest when I saw the door was left standing slightly ajar.

  I held my gun tightly as I pushed the door open.

  “Laney?” I called out.

  Only silence in response.

  I moved through the house, room by room, clearing each space. With each new empty spot, the silence kept screaming back at me, louder and louder.

  Finally, I collapsed onto her bed, staring down at my hands.

  Laney was gone.

  I pulled out my phone and called her cell. It rang and then went to voicemail. I tried it again, but this time voicemail picked up immediately.

  Almost like someone had shut off her phone.

  I called her father next.

  “Alan?” I asked when I finally got through his secretary.

&n
bsp; “Easton, what’s going on?”

  “Have you seen Laney?”

  “No. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Just tracking her down.”

  I could hear the concern in his voice. “Okay. Well, let me know if you need anything.”

  “Sure,” I said and hung up.

  I called Susan next, but she said the exact same thing.

  I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want it to be true.

  But the fact was, Laney was missing. She was gone. I had expressly told her not to leave the house without me for any reason, and I knew she wouldn’t do it. I knew she wasn’t dumb enough to leave the front door open.

  I stood up and went into action mode. I left the house, got back into my car, and floored it toward the Sheriff’s office.

  Fifteen minutes later and at least one blown red light, I parked out front and jumped out. I stormed in through the front door.

  The guy sitting at the desk was a bored sergeant that would have rather been anywhere else, but he was stuck on duty. Probably the worst day possible, too, since I was on the fucking warpath.

  “You,” I said to him. “Get me Sloan.”

  He raised a lazy eyebrow. “Who are you, sir?”

  “Easton Wright.”

  “Okay. The Sheriff is busy.” He looked back down at his newspaper.

  Anger boiled up through my veins. I grabbed the paper from his hands and threw it on the floor. “Listen to me, you dumb desk monkey,” I growled. “Get Sloan and get him now. My fucking sister is missing.”

  Needless to say, the sergeant didn’t respond well to that. He stood up, one hand on his pepper spray, his face deadly serious. All eyes in the office were suddenly on us, and I realized that I was surrounded by fucking cops.

  “Sir,” he said, “you need to calm down right now.”

  “Get me Sloan, you brainless fuck. My stepsister could be dead right now. We need to find her.”

  “Who took your stepsister?”

  “The fucking serial killer.” I wanted to break his idiot nose, snap his thick-headed limbs. “Get. Me. Sloan.”