Out of Line: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

by Juliana Conners

  “Jane!” Mariah really sounds like she’s about to suffocate in ski gear.

  I glance back toward the dressing rooms. “Sure,” I say, “that’d be great.”

  Mr. Greek Demigod chuckles. The most delicious chuckle in the history of the universe. “Great,” he says and backs up. “Looking forward to bumping into you again!”

  I want to say you can bump anything into me anytime, but instead, I say, “You too.” I quickly turn on my heels and make for Mariah’s dressing room.

  It’s only when I reach the door and ask how Mariah’s doing, that realize I didn’t ask that bit of magnificence his name.

  Oh, fuck me, I think, helping unstick the lock on the door, and he was as sexy as heck too.

  Chapter 8- Jane

  After helping Mariah finish trying on her clothes, convincing her to let me pay for all her new outfits, and getting us both out onto the slopes, all I can think about is my mystery man. My Greek God descended into the boutique from on high, and how stupid I was not to have gotten any information about him.

  In between all these thoughts, Mariah and I manage to have a conversation. Mostly about how much fun she’s having, and how she’s sorry for all the reasons she gave on why she couldn’t — or shouldn’t — come. Of course, I bring up her desire for adventure and ask if she’s willing to finally be adventurous enough to lose her virginity. It’s easier for me to focus on her still intact virginity than it is mine.

  After a few good runs, we trudge through the snow toward the lodge, and my thoughts return to the guy. I want to kick myself. I wish I’d accepted his invitation to escort me to the café. I hope and pray we actually do see each other again.

  As if the Gods of Sexy have taken pity on me, a male voice cuts in on our conversation just as we’re discussing Mariah’s options for getting laid.

  “‘Out there and available’ huh?”

  Twirling around, Mariah and I both get an eyeful of what’s coming our way. A pack of gorgeousness, that’s what. And my mystery man from the boutique is part of that pack. My heart throbs along with my clit, and goosebumps dot my skin. I decide I need this man like I need air to breathe.

  But it’s not him who’s addressed us. The owner of the voice is a taller, strong-shouldered man. Where Mr. Greek Demigod’s eyes are like a kitten’s, the taller man (probably his older brother, by the shared eye and hair color), has eyes like a jungle cat. A hungry jungle cat on the prowl.

  Something I know Mariah is into with every part of her heart and soul. Beside me, I sense every muscle in her body go on high alert.

  He saunters up and says, “Well, ladies, we’re out here, and available for some fun, if you’d like to have it.”

  He quickly locks his eyes and attention on a flustered Mariah, but I’m not offended. I’m busy watching the other two. Particularly Demigod. The other guy he has with him is of absolutely no interest to me. Backwards baseball cap tells me everything I need to know about him. Frat boy. Game addict. Woman eater, but with zero taste or class.

  Not interested, I sing in my head. I get enough of your type at college. I don’t need to get any more on this vacation. I glance at Demigod, hoping he’s looking at me, he is. But not in the same carefree way Baseball Cap is.

  He’s not making any move to come say hi. Why? He’s just watching, waiting, observing. It’s as if he’s waiting for something not just watching for entertainment, but what is he waiting for?

  Why doesn’t he come up and say something? I straighten my posture, determined not to show him any anxiety or confusion. Does he not remember we talked earlier? I study his face. No, I decide, he recognizes me. So, what the hell? Why doesn’t he join in on the back and forth banter or flirt like he did earlier? He was so brave and forward before, why is he just hanging in the background?

  On the other side of my frustrated and confused thoughts, I hear the other guy flirting with Mariah say, “Oh, so this isn’t your first time, then?”

  For a moment, my heartbeat skyrockets. My temperature spikes, thinking I’ve missed the guy directly asking to get in her pants. I’m about to go off on him, but Mariah doesn’t look offended. If anything, she looks happy. Embarrassed, but pleased. “No,” she says, obviously a little taken aback by the “first time” comment as well, but it’s not about skin. It’s about skis, as I find out in her next words. So, I force myself to back off.

  “Oh?” The guy’s eyes travel boldly down the sexy white and black ski ensemble I bought Mariah. “Why’s that?”

  I’m not usually one to get irritated by such obvious flirting. But I am, and I know why. It’s because Mr. Greek Demigod is still holding back.

  “Studying,” I say. I pause, hitting Mariah’s admirer with a bit of attitude, and shooting a little attitude toward my object of interest as well. “I was lucky to even get her out this far. Usually, she won’t do anything unless it has to do with the class.”

  As I let these words fall from my mouth, I see Demigod grin. And that’s when it hits me. Oh my God, Jane! You’re such an idiot, I think, watching him choose that exact moment to saunter up. He licks his lips thoughtfully. Patiently. Studiously. That’s what he was doing. He was holding back and studying the situation.

  He wasn’t ignoring me. My cheeks heat and I realize I had almost put him in the same bin with the other guys. Guys who talk a good game, but pussy out in the end. He was giving his brother room to work. That’s why he didn’t jump right in. My heart pounds all the way down to my pussy, and I feel like I’m on the edge of climaxing. He was making sure he didn’t mess things up for his brother.

  I sigh internally with relief.

  “Well, then maybe the two of you would be interested in some fun with us before getting back to your studies.” Demigod locks eyes with me for a moment. He gives me something like a wink, but not quite. I’m not sure how to describe it, other than to say it’s playful. Dorky, but he was a little that way with me earlier, so it’s not surprising.

  I’m just about to hit him with one of my signature smiles and a twirl of my blonde hair when frat boy jumps right in. Right into my personal space and pushes his cap further back.

  “Yeah, a couple of hot babes like yourselves could really go for some good food and drink after all that shredding, right?”

  I wrinkle my nose at him. Making it obvious I’m not hungry for whatever food or drink he might try to serve me. Not after last night’s disaster. No! Absolutely not! He even sounds like Kyle, and I bet he’s just as clueless. I cross my arms hoping he gets the hint.

  Thankfully, before I can get even more demoralized by skater-boy-at-a-ski-lodge and his offer, Mr. Greek Demigod comes to my rescue.

  He steps back in, practically knocking over my nightmare in sneakers and a backwards baseball cap.

  “What my friend here means to say, is that we would love to have you join us for dinner. Food and drinks are on us if you’d like to come.” He gestures a thumb towards himself. “I’m Alex” — he then points back to the friend he interrupted — “that’s Jordan, and he is—”

  Mariah’s knight in a ski jacket gently lifts her fingers and after kissing her hand, he says, “I’m Paul.”

  But I don’t care what his name is, or what the name of the third wheel is. I’ve gotten the name of my mystery man, and that’s all I can think about.

  At least until Alex leans in while Mariah is introducing herself. “And who do I have the pleasure of bumping into for the second time on this beautiful Christmas Eve?” His words are silky. Deep, strong and cool like ice. Like hot chocolate poured over mint ice cream.

  “Jane,” I answer, shyly and then bite my bottom lip.

  “Jane.” The way he muses over my name soaks my panties and weakens my knees. “Nice to meet you officially,” he says, putting on a bit more charm.

  He’s making me squirm, and I do my best not to show him how much. I don’t answer him. Instead, I turn my attention to Mariah, and to the man she’s attracted.

  “So,” Paul says, “
would you and your friend care to join me — us — for a little dinner, drinks and fun?”

  These guys need a little tough love, I think, looking at all of them. They need to be given something to work for. Something that isn’t a “done deal.” Which — I look over at Mariah, realizing she’s about to say yes to their offer, and get these guys too hopped up on their own sexy — is not gonna happen, if I leave Mariah to do it herself.

  I roll back my shoulders and step in. “No thank you.”

  As I expect, everyone — especially Mariah and her maybe-boyfriend — look shocked. I continue effortlessly, “Mariah and I were planning to go down one more slope before they close for the night, so we can’t.” A total lie. We were done for the day and weren’t planning to ski anymore. Mariah’s mouth gapes open in protest, but this is for her own good. She’ll thank me later. If they want us, they’ll have to work to get us.

  If Paul looks upset, Alex looks positively tortured. Like, “How can fate be so beautiful and cruel?”

  I don’t listen to whatever Paul is saying or watch as Jordan the Jackass makes his way back up the porch. The only one I’m watching is Alex. He hangs back as his comrades fall back toward the lodge.

  He approaches us quietly and hands Mariah a small business card. “If you change your mind, this is where we’ll be. The Exchange.” I watch her take the card and thank him. He gives me a little grin, though it’s nowhere near as bright or warm as the one before. “It’s gonna be quite the party,” he says, and walks away.

  The moment we’re alone, Mariah lets me have it.

  “What the hell was that?” she asks. She’s pissed, and is ready to cry, or hit me. “They seemed nice. And Paul, he was super sexy. And you just send him, them, packing? You’d better have a good reason. Like you knew they were serial killers or something.”

  I don’t answer right away. Partly because I want to make sure the men are well and truly gone, but also because I feel bad for dangling man candy in front of her and then taking it away.

  I smile, briefly imagining her in a collar and leash begging for that candy.

  “What?” she asks, sounding equal parts angry and confused. “What are you smiling for?” She glares at me, jabbing her poles into the snow. “You were the one who wanted me to lose my virginity on this trip.” Her voice lowers around “virginity” but doesn’t lose its heat. “And Paul, well, he seemed like a good candidate for me.”

  I laugh, unable to get over how adorable she looks and sounds right now. “Relax, babe. I wasn’t cock blocking you.”

  All I get is a glare.

  “I’m serious,” I say, pulling her away from the side of the lodge, and toward the slopes. When we’ve taken a few good skates toward the more difficult slopes, I whisper, “you have to do that with guys like that. You have to make them think you’re not interested, to get them more interested.” I speak to her the same way I would speak to a guy begging for my bits. Softly, but with enough fire on it to melt them. “You didn’t see what I saw, Mariah.” I pause, as we get in line for the ski lift. “When I told them no, the other two guys — they looked intrigued. Maybe your tall-dark-and-handsome didn’t, but the other two did. And that’s what we want.” The line moves, and we move up with it. Just in time to be scooped into a ski lift seat. “That way, when we do show up, they’ll be that much happier to see us.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she says and then sighs. “I guess I have a lot to learn about these things, huh?”

  “You do, but that’s okay.” I put on my cheeriest voice. “You have me, and I know everything there is to know about getting a hot guy to lose his mind over you.”

  “So, we’re going to the party?” Mariah’s thinly veiled excitement is almost too much. It takes all the self-control I have not to reach over and pinch her cheeks.

  “Hell yeah, we’re going,” I say, making plans in my head of what we’re going to wear—something short and sexy. And I’m going to vamp up mine and Mariah’s makeup. No way I’m going to pass up an opportunity to see Alex again.

  I squeal internally. I don’t care what kind of party we’ve been invited to, I’m going to soak it all up and enjoy every minute. I squeeze my thighs together, loving how wet and tender just thinking about him has made me.

  Chapter 9- Alex

  “The Exchange Club, Aspen,” reads the card in my hand — a carbon copy of the one I gave Jane’s friend — “basement. By invitation only. Dinner starts promptly at 8 PM.” Between those two bits of information is the address, and for what feels like the millionth time in five minutes, I find myself praying that Jane and Mariah will be there.

  That, despite what she said about needing to ski some more, they’ll accept our invitation. Especially Jane.

  Ever since I bumped into her at the boutique, I’ve had a semi boner. I’ve been thinking nonstop about the mischievous glint in her eye. I don’t buy the innocent, girl-next-door vibe she gives everyone else. There’s a way she holds her mouth that lets me know she’s got a taste for not just fine wine, but perhaps even the unique and the fringe when it comes to sex.

  You like that kind of thing, don’t you Jane? I imagine her getting a thrill from acting like she’s the “good girl.” Acting like she doesn’t know anything about sex, or any of those “naughty, dirty things.” Those are the words I imagine her saying with those big pouty lips of hers. I imagine that she twirls her curls of blonde hair, looking the perfect image of the clueless, virginal girl. You like leading people on to believe that you’re sweet. Untouched.

  I grin, allowing my fantasy to take a twist. Jane goes from being the spitting image of clueless and inexperienced, to hungry and depraved.

  In my mind, I imagine she gets even more pleasure from turning the “good girl” on its head. From saying things that a sweet girl might say but doing things a dirty girl would do.

  Like sitting on my throbbing cock while I make her solve math problems in front of a dry erase board. But you’re not that good girl, are you, Jane? You’re not innocent and untouched? When she solves the math problem, it’s wrong, so she has to take a spanking.

  I imagine her apologizing for the mistake. I imagine her struggling to write on the dry erase board neatly and legibly while I’m pounding into her from behind. You actually love the idea of being corrupted, don’t you?

  Vaguely, I’m aware of reaching down to touch my hard dick through my pants.

  I continue with my fantasy. Jane takes every inch of me into her tight pussy, and I’ve been unable to take it out since I’d slid inside her.

  She keeps solving problems wrong and writing sloppily on purpose. I can see it and hear it in the way her cries of “I’m sorry” are less and less contrite.

  Just as I’m about to ask her what her parents would think about such sloppy school work, and how much she’s enjoying being punished, my phone chimes, evaporating the hold I have on my fantasy.

  Instantly, I recognize the sound on my phone as the alarm. The one I set to go off when we got dangerously close to 8 PM.

  Shit! I think, watching as my erection softens in my slacks, now is not the time for me to be fantasizing! I reach into my pocket and turn off the alarm, and then I reach into an interior pocket on my suit jacket.

  I breathe a small sigh of relief. All three tickets still there ready to show the doorman once we get to where we’re going. My sigh of relief is short-lived, though.

  Paul and Jordan are still in the shared master bath getting ready. I jog to the bathroom, glancing at my wristwatch. It’s 7:45 PM, and it’s going to at least take five, maybe 10 minutes to get to the building in question. Another three to get in through whatever security they have…

  If we’re lucky.

  “Paul! Jordan!”

  Each guy glances at me as I shout their name. I don’t know how, but the two of them are still messing with their face and hair.

  “We’ve got to get going,” I say when neither of them looks like they understand the urgency.

 
Jordan, in particular, pisses me off. Not only does he know why I’m being so time sensitive, but he doesn’t even have his pants or suit jacket on yet. He’s still in his dress shirt, tie and boxers. “Get your clothes on,” I tell him through gritted teeth. He ignores me and combs more gel into his hair. Sculpting it. “Your hair masterpiece is going to mean shit-all if we don’t arrive there on time.”

  Jordan doesn’t move to move any faster, and it makes me want to hit him. “Relax, yo. We’ve got time.”

  “No,” I say, walking quickly out of view to grab his suit jacket and pants for him, “we don’t.” When I return with both articles of clothing and force him into his jacket, I add, “it’s past 7:45.” I press the slacks into his chest. “Get your pants on, so we can get the hell out of here, yeah?”

  “Fine.” Jordan snaps on the water for his sink and runs his hands under. “I still say you need to relax, though. No sense having a heart attack on the way there, man.”

  I ignore him unceremoniously, deciding to turn my attention to my brother. Unlike Jordan, he at least has all his clothes on. He’s busy smoothing his hands over his jaw.

  “Almost good to go there, bro?” I ask.

  Paul nods, splashing some aftershave on his hands and patting his face with it. “Sure. But I don’t know what we really have to look forward to. Neither of those girls said they were coming, so it’s not like we have anyone who’s gonna be there looking for us.”

  “No,” I say, brushing the shoulders on my brother’s suit jacket, and doing a bit to fix his tie. Kinda like Mom used to do with Dad before he went to a meeting. “But it’s still going to be fun. It’s really important,” I add, “for us to be there on time.”

  Jordan is still preening in front of the mirror. “Get your damn shoes on.”

  He gives me his signature okay-mom look.