Stepbrother: Scar Tissue - The Complete Serial (An Alpha Stepbrother Romance)
By
Lillian Thorne
Copyright © 2015 Lillian Thorne
All Rights Reserved
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PART ONE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
PART TWO
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
PART THREE
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
PART FOUR
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
From the Author
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
LUKE
I LIFT MY THUMB from the top of the straw I hold over my scotch and let a few drops of water fall into the glass, stopping after four. It’s a delicate balance. Too much water and you risk diluting the scotch, but just enough and you release the subtle, floral notes hidden within it.
Not that it matters with the shit they serve here.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, sweetie?” The blonde bartender asks in a honeyed tone as she bends over the counter, placing her manicured hand on mine. She lets the question hang in the air as her fingers delicately trace my own. Her fake tits balloon under a revealing red flannel; glitter shimmers around her more than ample cleavage; the brim of her tan cowboy hat nearly touches my brow.
I could imagine her full pink lips wrapped around my hard cock, sliding back and forth. Under any other circumstances, I might make it happen; I might even enjoy it. But not tonight. Tonight I have more important things to deal with. I need to find Leah.
Sweetie? I repeat her words in my head. Her perfume, flowery and cloying, is starting to irritate me almost as much as her misplaced terms of endearment.
“You could grab me another scotch when I’m done.” I tell her as I remove my hand from underneath hers, flicking the straw onto the counter as I turn around to face the main stage. She mutters asshole under her breath and stalks off toward the other end of the bar. She’s probably right, but I can’t help but smirk.
I sip my scotch as a fog machine blows puffs of gray smoke onto the stage. This isn’t my scene. It’s dark and dingy and reeks of smoke, dried sweat, and poor life choices. I’ll need a shower after this; maybe burn my clothes.
A clone of the blonde bartender shakes her ass on stage while a motley of loud and lewd men shove filthy, crinkled dollar bills into her G-string. My jaw clenches as I picture Leah in place of the girl on stage—the same men pawing at her, attempting to fondle her tits and ass.
What forced her to work here of all places? She had so much potential. What a waste.
I pound the rest of my scotch and slam the glass down on the counter. The blonde bartender glares at me then turns back to the grimy guy she’s milking cash from.
A part of me hopes I don’t see Leah on stage while the other part is curious.
I squash the latter part as my eyes drift to a hot, curvy brunette in a dark corner of the room. My dick hardens as I see her bend over in tight daisy dukes and cowboy boots. Her flannel shirt stops mid-back and her perfectly shaped ass peeks out the bottom of her shorts.
“God damn.” I exhale, leaning back against the bar.
I imagine my hands running over her silky thighs then grabbing fistfuls of that perfect ass. An urge overtakes me—a need to peel off those daisy dukes and feel her tight pussy clench around my hard dick. But she disappears and the moment is lost. For the best, I suppose. I need to find Leah and get her out of this place and this town.
I look back to the stage. Another girl has joined the blonde, a petite redhead. They’re making out. Classy. I can’t help but respect their hustle though. They know what these men want, and they’re willing to milk them for all they’re worth. It’s effective too.
Dollar bills are leaving hands quicker than water from a faucet.
I grab my glass and bring it to my lips but realize it’s dry. I tap my ring against the glass to grab blonde number one’s attention. She glances at me, and I wave my glass.
She snubs me. Hell hath no fury…
I consider leaning over the counter and grabbing a bottle myself, but decide against it. I sigh, fishing out a peace offering from my billfold, then wave it in the air like a white flag. I surrender. At least until I get another scotch.
Like a moth to a flame, she flies over to me in an instant.
“Scotch?” She asks as she rips the twenty from my fingers, turning around before I respond.
“Please.” I smirk, watching her as she pours a couple of fingers of scotch into the glass.
She slams it down in front of me, scotch sloshing over the sides. I could reel her back in with a few kind words—it might even be fun—but I have more important shit to deal with at the moment.
“Thanks.” My eyes narrow as I watch her walk away. Sometimes I can forget the simplest things. “Is Leah working tonight?”
She spins around and walks back to me. There’s a certain bounce to her step now. She rests her forearms against the counter as she leans towards me. That same cloying smell flares my nostrils. I almost regret asking.
“What do you want with Leah?” Her voice takes on a more flirtatious tone as she smiles at me—a smile that tells me she thinks she’s in control.
“That’s not an answer.” The scotch warms my throat as I swallow.
“Sure it is, honey.” Sweetie. Honey. I can feel my chest flush. “It’s just not the answer you’re looking for.”
“Well, is she—“ I start, but I’m cut off by glasses and chairs crashing against the floor behind me.
“You fucking bitch!” I turn around and see a scrawny, scraggly-haired man, a bit shorter than me, shaking the brunette violently, her cowboy hat falling to the floor behind her. I can’t see her face, but I can hear the squeals and pleas for help.
I drop my glass on the counter, about to intervene, but before I have the chance two bouncers swoop in and peel the guy away from her.
“You fucking whore!” The man spits at the girl as the bouncers drag him away.
The girl turns around, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face awash with confusion and sadness and distress.
I swallow hard.
It’s Leah, my stepsister.
She has grown up and filled out—I hardly recognize her in that skimpy outfit—but there is no question about it; it’s her.
My dick hardens as my eyes rake over her body. Chestnut curls, pouty lips, and delicate features—she’s beautiful, absolutely stunning.
I’m losing focus, and I forget why I’m here as desire floods through me. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Not about Leah. I shut my eyes for a moment, but the very images I’m trying to suppress flash in my mind: thoughts of her naked body, my hands and lips exploring every inch of her silky skin.
When I open them again, Leah’s gone.
CHAPTER TWO
LEAH
&n
bsp; June 25th, 2013
I know the doctors told me to keep a daily journal—so did my dad. I know it’s supposed to help me cope with my feelings, my urges. But I can’t. Not every day. It’s the same thing day after day. Writing the same entry every day makes me depressed, like my life is going nowhere.
Judith has retreated into her own world again. It’s been hard since dad died. He was the only thing that kept me going these past few years. And I guess her as well. It was a shock to me when I heard. The news came a few days after he passed; I was still a patient at Millwood—sometimes I wish I still was.
Although I guess it wasn’t that big of a shock. I watched as his health declined with each successive visit. He didn’t know what was wrong, neither did doctors.
I was getting better while he was getting worse. It was heartbreaking. And during this time, Judith never visited me. Not once. The healthier I was, the more distant she became.
Luke never visited either. Not so much as a letter. Probably didn’t even know I was at Millwood, or how he drove me there.
I hate him. I can feel heat flame up in the scar on my forearm every time I think about him. I don’t want to admit it, but even though I hate him, he’s the only person who cures my numbness, makes me feel something.
My poison. My antidote.
I have to leave this town. I need to get away. I feel myself slipping into old habits.
The headaches are back too. Some days my body aches so bad I can’t get out of bed. Judith loves it though— taking care of me— but I can’t stand it. The more unhealthy I become— the more torn up and broken I am— the more she cares for me. It’s sick, it’s twisted, and for some reason it keeps me here.
This place, my stepmother—everything here—is toxic.
Painful memories around every corner, under every rock, yet I still stay.
My deepest fear is that I’ll never leave.
ONE LOOK AT THE sea of drunk, wild men, hooting and hollering at Miley as she twirls around the pole, and I know it’s going to be one of those nights.
My skin tingles. I snap the rubber band on my wrist against my skin. Relief.
I’ve been working at Buck Wild as a cocktail waitress for a few weeks now—two weeks exactly, actually. Without a college education and with my history, it’s the only option I have.
When I first took this job, I thought I’d be insecure in my “uniform.” I’ve never thought of myself as attractive or fit but after seeing how these men gawk at me, as gross and hideous as they are, I find myself becoming more confident each day.
Well, some days at least. Some days it’s too much to handle, and I just want to run away and hide. Today is one of those days.
A few hours have passed and although I’ve had to deal with obnoxious drunk men and their lewd comments about my body, most of the men have been keeping their hands off. There’s one guy who hasn’t though, Gabe. He’s a regular here—the girls put up with his shit because he tips well. I don’t.
His greasy black hair, his slimy, yellow-toothed grin, and the way he invades my personal space—everything about him creeps me out. And his comments. Usually I let the catcalls slide off me, but there’s something about the way he says them—maybe it’s his voice—that makes my skin crawl. I want to gag just thinking about it.
Gabe signals me to come over. Ugh. I finger the rubber band around my wrist, pull it back—Snap!
I can smell his stench—booze, cigarettes, and B.O.—ten steps away.
“What can I get you Gabe, another Bud?”
He leers at me, not saying a word; his tongue slides over his yellow teeth. I fold my arms across my chest, trying to cover what I can.
“Say, it’s been two weeks since you been here, right?” I hate the way he talks. His voice, how his lips curl, his shitty grammar—everything.
“Yes.” I don’t want to linger any longer than I have to.
“When we gonna see them titties on stage.” I can feel his beady eyes burning on my cleavage. I raise my arm and snap my fingers in the air and wave in order to grab the attention of Mark and Greg, our bouncers. They’re both leaning against the wall at the front, deep in conversation.
“You’re drunk Gabe. I think it’s best if you head home.” I can feel myself growing more nervous and uncomfortable with every passing second. I quickly turn my head and look over my shoulder. Mark and Greg are still talking. The place is too loud, too dark. They can’t see me.
“You think I’m gonna listen to what some whore tells me.” His voice rises, grates against my ears. He’s becoming belligerent. I need to leave. Now.
I turn away to walk towards Mark and Greg, but one of Gabe’s bony hands shoots out and grabs my wrist, holding me in place. “I ain’t done with you yet, slut.” He slurs his speech as his grip tightens around my wrist.
Is this really happening right now?
He pulls me closer, the stench of tobacco and booze flares my nostrils, and I feel like gagging. He slides his free hand along my leg, and I try to shake it off, shake free from his grasp. Even though he’s scrawny, he can still overpower me.
I notice a glass of water on the table within arm’s reach. I grab the glass and dump it on his head while he’s focused on my legs. The chair crashes to the floor, and I drop the glass, shattering it on the floor as he slides back from the table and grabs both of my wrists.
“You fucking bitch!” Specks of his saliva hit my face as he screams at me. My eyes are glued shut, and my head is turned to the side. This isn’t happening… this isn’t happening.
Everything around me seems to fade away, as though my body is shutting down. I can’t think. I can’t do anything. I’m lost.
Moments later his grip loosens, then releases me completely. I open my eyes and Mark and Greg are dragging him away. He mouths something, but I can’t hear it. I’m in shock.
My cheeks feel warm, and I realize I’m crying silent tears, tears that tell me this is wrong, that I shouldn’t be here. I look around me confused, dazed at what just happens. After a few moments, everything starts up again as though nothing happened.
No one gives a shit.
I run off to the back room, hoping there would be someone to talk with, commiserate with.
If you had asked me ten years ago where I’d be now, this wouldn’t have even crossed my mind. A veterinarian, an art teacher, a housewife—something, anything but this.
I’m lost. I have been for years. Ever since Luke left.
A ship without a sail, a bird with a clipped wing. Damaged goods.
No one is in the back room. I find a corner and curl up into a little ball, trying to find some semblance of comfort. After a while, I heard someone speak.
“Leah, you okay?”
The voice seems distant. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up.
It’s John, the owner of Buck Wild. If you saw him on the street—well you probably wouldn’t, he’d blend in with the everyone else. Average. A balding, miserable middle-aged man.
I wipe away my tears, sniffle.
“Yeah, just fine.” I lie.
My eyes sting. Beads of sweat glisten along his brow.
“Good,” he continues, disregarding my tear-stained cheeks and the fact that I’m huddled in a corner, “I’m gong to need you on stage tonight.”
I don’t know how to respond—did he just say… “Excuse me?” I hardly recognize my voice. It’s low and shaky but undercurrents of anger course through it.
“You knew this would happen eventually.” He says it as though he’s admonishing a child. “Tara and Vanessa are no-shows. Same with Becca. There’s no one else. I need you to clean yourself up and get out there.” His eyes scan my body. “You’re a complete mess.”
Something snaps. Not the rubber band against my wrist—something inside me. I’ve had it with this place, with this life.
“Fuck you.” The words come out of me from somewhere deep inside me, low but firm. That gnawing anxiety in my chest disappears.
&nbs
p; He stares at me blankly as I begin to rise. “What the fuck did you just say?”
I grab my purse, then walk up to him.
“I said fuck you and fuck this place. I’m fucking out.” The words flow from me like water through a broken dam. It’s exhilarating, freeing, everything I’ve ever wanted to say but never had to courage to.
Where was this person four years ago?
Still wearing my uniform, I turn to the door and start to walk.
“You walk out now and you’re done.” He reeks desperation (and cheese but whatever).
Without turning around, I raise my middle finger and push through the door. Fuuuck. You!
CHAPTER THREE
LEAH
I’M ECSTATIC. I CAN’T remember a time that I’ve felt this amazing.
Unfortunately the feeling doesn’t last long. Reality strikes hard as I’m standing next to my beater of a car, my key jammed in the lock. The more I twist, the more upset I become. My skin tingles, begging for release.
I can feel the tears forming. Resisting them is useless. I cry into the corner of my arm as I fall against my car. I just walked away from my ticket out of here. Sometimes I feel as though I sabotage myself on purpose.
Why couldn’t I hold out just a bit longer?
“Look what he got here.” My body numbs; I feel dizzy. There’s a buzzing sound in my head. I don’t have to turn around. I know who’s behind me. I can smell his stench. “Look like the little whore run off and lost her way.”
“Please…” I beg as I turn around, breathing in the cloying smells of alcohol and chewing tobacco and dried sweat. Blood drips from his nose, his lower lip split and dirty. Mark and Greg did a number on him, and he’s not happy. The front of his mouth bulges with tobacco. He spits a dirty brown stream of saliva that lands in front of me before closing the gap between us.
Stepbrother: Scar Tissue - the Complete Serial (An Alpha Stepbrother Romance) Page 1