[Hemsworth Brothers 01.0] The Slam

by Haleigh Lovell

When I glanced over at Adelaide, she was frowning deeply as she studied her cards.

  Poor girl couldn’t bluff even if she tried. She didn’t have a poker face.

  Every emotion she felt—dread, delight, excitement, disappointment—was written all over her face in bright neon paint.

  “Well?” she said expectantly.

  “I fold,” I said at last. I laid my cards face down and stood up to remove my boxer briefs.

  My cock sprang free, a thick rod of hard flesh jutting from a nest of dark hair.

  Several moments passed and she continued staring at it with her mouth hung open.

  I grinned. “You’re gonna catch flies with your mouth like that.”

  Cupping a hand to her mouth, she whimpered in embarrassment, the sound breathy and arousing in a way it shouldn’t have been.

  My cock reacted instantly, swelling, becoming harder, longer, thicker.

  Another soft whimper fell from her lips and my cock leaped like a poorly trained dog.

  “Quit acting like you’ve never seen a dick before.”

  “I haven’t,” she said, biting her lips. “Your penis...” Wonder filled her voice. “It’s such a perfect little arrangement of atoms.”

  Unwittingly, my gaze went to her mouth. As she blatantly stared at my raging erection, her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

  Fuck. I swallowed back a groan.

  My cock stirred at the thought of sliding into that warm, wet mouth of hers.

  Then I pictured that tongue swirling around my shaft and blood rushed to my groin.

  Damn. I clenched my jaw—hard. But my flagging self-control slipped another notch and she let out a loud gasp as my turgid erection sprang up, tapping my lower abs.

  “I’ve never seen a real penis,” she said in a hushed awe. “Especially not one so... sprightly.”

  Sprightly? What the fuck does that even mean?

  Meanwhile, my erection showed no interest in deflating. “You’ve never seen a real one? So you’ve seen fake ones? Dildos?”

  In time, her gaze wandered back up to my face. “I mean, I’ve seen pictures in text books, but never an actual penis.”

  “Why not?”

  “I-I...” she hesitated. “I’ve never had sexual intercourse. I’ve never even gone out on a date before.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “Oh.” Shit. My plan had backfired. I thought if she saw me naked, she’d stop feeling so hung up that I’d seen her naked.

  Little did I expect this! Whatever the fuck this was.

  “Wait!” she cried, getting to her feet as I reached for my boxer briefs. “A bet’s a bet. I won fair and square.”

  “Makes no difference to me.” I shrugged. “I usually sleep in the nude. I just thought I was making you uncomfortable.”

  “You’re not.” Clearing her throat, she added, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to observe it... for erm, scientific reasons.”

  “All right.” I shook my head. “I give you an inch and you want the full eight inches.”

  “What?” She blinked at me.

  “Nothing.” A corner of my mouth lifted in amusement. “What kind of scientific reasons?”

  “Sexual desire.” A bright blush stained her cheeks. “What triggers it...?”

  I watched her throat work as she swallowed hard.

  In the tense silence that followed, I stepped forward, the air between us growing charged. “You wanna know?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was high and thin as I closed the distance between us.

  Our gazes locked as I slid my hand between her legs and cupped her sex.

  Her lips parted and a low moan eased from her throat as I pushed two fingers inside her slick heat, sliding in slow and deep through her wetness.

  Fuck. I inhaled with a sharp hiss. She was hot and tight and dripping wet.

  Whimpering softly, she curved her pelvis upward, seeking a firmer touch.

  I watched her face as my fingers sank inside her drenched folds, pushing deep until the heel of my palm was pressed up against her clit.

  “Ender.” She breathed my name as my middle finger hit the G-spot.

  Her pelvis rocked hard against my hand as I caressed her from within, pressing against that ultra-sensitive nub and rubbing...

  And rubbing...

  And rubbing...

  And rubbing...

  And rubbing...

  All the while, I held her stare, watching the sweet, sultry emotions play across her face as I centered all my attention on that one sensitive spot, working the hardened nub harder and harder until she was writhing and whimpering for release.

  Then I stopped. “That’s one of the triggers.” The calm in my voice was strained around the edges. “For sexual desire.”

  Breathless, she stood there panting, drawing air into her lungs as I stalked over to the bed and began pulling back the covers.

  “You coming to bed?”

  She said nothing, but after a quiet moment, I felt the mattress dip as she got under the covers.

  “Don’t worry,” I spoke into the silence. “I won’t bite.” Almost as an afterthought, I added, “Unless you ask me to.”

  Chapter Eight

  ADELAIDE

  FOR A LONG WHILE I lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind trying to eliminate this cabin from the surface of the earth.

  “Ender?” I said finally.

  “Urn humph,” he grunted, the muscles in his abdomen shifting and rippling as he turned on his side to face me.

  His eyes were shut and his face was so close to mine that the distance between our lips could be measured in breaths.

  “Psst,” I whispered. “You awake?”

  “Now I am.” He grunted again. “You just woke me.”

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I can’t sleep.”

  Sighing heavily, he reached an arm above his head in a long stretch, drawing my attention to his rock-hard abs and strong, chiseled pecs. “What’s going on with you?”

  “I’m not sure.” I twisted my head to the side with a painful wince. “But my neck feels like it’s on fire.”

  His face clouded with worry. “Turn on your side,” he instructed and I silently obeyed.

  “Hold still.” He smoothed my hair away from my neck. “You have a gash.” After a pause, he added, “It’s not bleeding. But it’s covered with dried up blood and some of your hair is stuck to it.”

  Biting my lip I studied the wall, keenly aware of how close he was—so close I could feel his hot breath on my skin as he inspected the wound.

  “When that avalanche pushed you down the mountain, you must’ve cut yourself on the ice,” he said quietly. “The gash isn’t too deep.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll live.” I heard the smile in his voice. “It’s not life-threatening, but we should probably get it cleaned up.” He got up and returned shortly later, the mattress creaking as he sat down.

  Holding my breath, I lay still, listening to the sound of a washcloth being wrung.

  I slowly exhaled when I felt Ender’s warm touch at the base of my neck as he cleaned the wound, dabbing the raw edges with expert hands.

  His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the man himself.

  At last, I gathered my courage. “Ender?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When you digitally penetrated me just now, how did it feel for you?” I paused to gain control of my faltering voice. “Did you... erm... gain any sexual pleasure from it?”

  “Digital penetration?” His voice trailed off on a laugh.

  “You know what I mean,” I said a tad defensively. “You have elongated metacarpals.”

  “Elongated what?”

  “When you used your long fingers on me... to stimulate my clitoris and other parts of my vulva.”

  “Yeah?” he said coolly. “What about it?”

  “Did you gain any sexual pleasure from it?” I repeate
d.

  A moment passed, then another. Finally, he spoke into the silence. “I did.” A pause. “Did you?”

  “Yes,” I said softly. “It was... fun.”

  He applied slightly more pressure as he cleaned my wound, pressing firmly with the washcloth. “You’re not gonna act weird around me now, are you?”

  “No,” I answered truthfully. “Why would I?” After all, Ender was my Social Coach, and this was all part of learning to fit in.

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Most girls would...” His hand stilled before he resumed dabbing the washcloth against my skin. “But then again,” he said mostly to himself. “You’re not like most girls.”

  Feeling soothed and relaxed, I closed my eyes as Ender continued cleaning my wound.

  Moments passed before he spoke again. “So... how come you’ve never dated?”

  “I went to an all-girls school and it wasn’t easy to meet boys. And when I did, I had no idea how to act, what to do, what to say.” I sighed deeply. “I never had any boyfriends or girlfriends. I just remember feeling this weight of loneliness. But I know I’m not alone in feeling alone. Match dot com, eHarmony, and OkCupid is a big industry with a market cap of eight billion dollars. All that is the cost of loneliness.”

  “Yeah,” he said indifferently. “It is big business.”

  “And,” I added gloomily. “If it were that easy to date and find a partner, then the only single people around are the ‘voluntarily single’! And there’d be no dating industry!”

  He grunted, but said nothing.

  “To be honest,” I said woefully. “I think loneliness is just Darwinism in the works. Not able to read mating cues? BAM! The genes leave the pool.”

  His reply was a soft chuckle through the silence.

  “What?” I said crossly. “I don’t see what’s so funny. The universe wants me to die alone!”

  “You’re only nineteen,” he said dryly. “It’s not the end of the world. You’ll meet someone.”

  “Where?” I demanded. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” he said impatiently.

  “Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll travel to India or Bali to go find myself like that Eat, Pray, Love movie, and love will just fall onto my lap.” After a pause, I added, “It’s not easy for us Aspies to find love.”

  “Look,” he said matter-of-factly. “Who cares if you’re an Aspie or a musician, a vegan or vegetarian, a republican or democrat? Diabetic? Hey, me too! So you understand what I’m going through.”

  “Ender!” I craned my neck. “You have diabetes? I’m sorry, I had no idea!”

  “I don’t,” he said in a toneless voice. “It was an example. What I’m trying to say is there’s someone out there for everyone.”

  “Hmm.” I mused aloud. “So you think there’s a possibility I might meet someone who sees assets or at least non-issues where others see problems?”

  “Yeah,” he said simply. “And you won’t meet anyone if you don’t go out on dates.”

  I sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid I don’t know how. When it comes to dating, I’m a lost cause sailing off course.”

  Silence stretched until he broke it. “I’ll help you find a date when we get back.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t hide the surprise from my voice. “You’d do that for me?”

  He didn’t answer, but he finished cleaning my wound and reached for the first aid kit on the nightstand. “Don’t move,” he said, picking up a gauze pad and spreading some sort of antibiotic ointment on it. “I’m not done yet.”

  I flinched as the cool cream came in contact with my cuts, a burning sensation running down my neck.

  “All done.” He turned from me and began packing up the first aid kid.

  “Thanks, Ender,” I said, pulling the covers over my shoulders.

  “Don’t mention it.” He got back in bed, shifting his weight so he was facing the wall. “Now go to sleep,” he commanded.

  I tried, but failed. For a long while, I lay awake, smelling the fire from the wood-burning stove, hearing the crackle and hiss of the logs inside it.

  Ender kept tossing and turning under his blankets. He must have been feeling hot because the next thing I knew, he was huffing and puffing and snapping the covers aside.

  I wet my throat. His nude body oozed male sensuality. Unwittingly, I found myself taking in his lean and muscular back, his strong and rippling thighs, his smooth and muscular calves, his tight, round butt.

  Such a beautiful and athletic physique—smooth, hard, and sculpted... like a Greco-Roman statue.

  “Adelaide!”

  I nearly jumped. “What?”

  “Stop staring at my ass.”

  Smiling slightly, I said indignantly, “Then stop pointing your ass directly at my eyeballs!”

  WHEN I WOKE THE NEXT morning, Ender was already dressed. “Your clothes are dry,” he informed me. “And there’s some coffee and Ramen noodles on the stove.”

  “Are we leaving soon?” I winced a little as I struggled to sit up.

  “Yeah.” He was bent over, tying his boots. “We’ll leave whenever you’re ready. I’ve already called Edric. He’s meeting us at the end of the trailhead in about two hours.”

  Rubbing my eyes, I yawned and stretched out my arms. Then it quickly dawned on me that I was completely exposed.

  Shittlesticks! I tugged at the quilt, trying to cover myself, when Ender looked up.

  “Right,” he said, his eyes lingering far too long on my naked breasts. “I’ll let you get dressed.” Then he turned and stalked toward the door.

  “Wait!” I called after him. “Where are you going?”

  He paused at the doorway. “Just out back to chop some firewood.”

  “Ohhh, that has got to be one of the manliest pastimes,” I said dreamily. “You, alone, outdoors, chopping wood and splitting logs with one giant, smooth swing of your axe. If that doesn’t grow the stubborn part of your beard, nothing will!” I laughed gaily. “Not that you’re growing a beard of course. After all, that was just a figure of sp—”

  Ender shook his head and closed the door with a sharp bang behind him.

  Right, I chided myself. Must stop rambling and making a nuisance of myself.

  Slowly, I got out of bed and gathered my clothes off the drying rack. As I dragged my shirt over my head, my eyes alighted on the cards spread out on the makeshift table.

  Ender’s poker hand was laid face down on the tabletop.

  Curiosity got the better of me and I flipped them over.

  Flush. All hearts.

  I blinked at the cards, confused. I thought I’d won by counting cards.

  But I was wrong. He’d let me win.

  Chapter Nine

  ENDER

  A PROMISE IS A PROMISE, and I intended to keep my word. But it was days before I even had the time to find Adelaide a date. Edric helped me round up a bunch of guys and now I was second-guessing myself, wondering if it was a mistake to even get him involved. My brother always had a way of taking things too far with his ‘Go big or go home’ mentality.

  “There are fifteen guys waiting outside that door,” Edric said eagerly. “Waiting for their casting call.”

  Leather creaked as I reclined in my chair. “This is not some reality show.” I shot him an irritated glance.

  “Of course it is!” Then he cleared his throat and lowered his voice like he was Chris motherfucking Harrison. “Be prepared for the most dramatic season of The Bachelorette.” A dramatic pause as he clinked an imaginary champagne glass with an imaginary butter knife. “EVER!”

  I scowled. “We’re not finding her a fucking husband, Edric. We’re just helping her find a date.”

  “Aha!” He waved an impatient hand. “That’s where you’re wrong, brotha. Not just any date—her first date. And we need to make sure it goes off without a hitch. Wait ’til you meet these guys.”

  “Can’t wait,” I said dryly. “What have you told them so far?”


  “Only that she’s our cousin.”

  “Our cousin?” I frowned. Finally, with a resigned sigh, I said, “Send in the first one.”

  Edric opened the door with a flourish and a guy sporting a multi-colored Mohawk sauntered in like he owned the whole damn joint. “Sup, homies,” he drawled.

  I went straight to business. “Name?”

  “Ryan,” he answered.

  “Ryan.” I sat back in my chair, fingers steepled at the tips. “Picture this scenario: You’re dropping by to pick Adelaide up for a date. I open the front door and ask, ‘What are your intentions with my, erm... cousin?’” I paused. “Tell me, how would you answer that?”

  Without missing a beat, he said, “To treat her how I’d like my sister to be treated. And I’ll have her home from our date—which will take place entirely in a well-lit public place—no later than the time you’re about to tell me.”

  I studied him with narrowed eyes. Humph. This guy was full of shit. I could smell his douchebaggery from a mile away.

  “Thanks,” I said shortly. “Wait outside.”

  When he left, I snapped my gaze to my brother. “How many guys did you say you had waiting outside?”

  “Fifteen,” he said. “Mostly freshmen.”

  I nodded, but said nothing.

  “So...” he hedged. “Should I send in the next one?”

  “NO!” I barked. “Tell ’em all to leave. I don’t have time for this shit.”

  “Wait!” Edric said urgently. “How about we just let them sweat it out there for ten minutes? Then we can hear everything they’re saying.”

  “You want to eavesdrop on them.” A statement, not a question.

  “Yeah,” he said, lowering his voice. “That will help us eliminate the lame ass losers.”

  I had to concede, it wasn’t such a bad idea. The walls in this Sigma Chi chapter house were paper-thin, allowing us to hear everything in the next room without having to put our ears to the door.

  Before long, we heard voices. Loud voices. “You won’t believe what that mawfucker asked me.” Ryan’s gravelly voice echoed through the walls.

  “What?” several other voices piped up.