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BOOK DESCRIPTION
Stepbrother Studs: Gavin
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BOOK DESCRIPTION
Sasha’s younger stepbrother, Gavin, is an exasperating little hottie—and he knows it.
The two siblings enjoy teasing and tempting each other, just to see if they can push each other over the edge.
The sexual tension between them is so thick you could cut it with a pair of scissors, and when Gavin agrees to be his stepsister’s test subject, allowing her to give him a shave and a haircut so she can practice her new beautician skills, Sasha discovers just how much lust exists between them.
But that isn’t all they’re feeling. And once that taboo line is crossed, Sasha knows there will be no going back. Now that their forbidden desires have been exposed, she has to decide how far she’s willing to go.
And, she wonders, how far is her stepbrother willing to go with her?
Stepbrother Studs: Gavin
By Selena Kitt
CHECK OUT MORE IN THIS SERIES:
Stepbrother Studs: Aaron
Stepbrother Studs: Brian
Stepbrother Studs: Cameron
Stepbrother Studs: Daren
Stepbrother Studs: Dustin
Stepbrother Studs: Evan
Stepbrother Studs: Finn
“Gavin!” Sasha stood on the bottom stair tread, calling up for her stepbrother, tapping her bare toes on the hardwood.
“What?” Gavin shouted back down the stairs.
“We agreed, didn't we?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
She scowled at him as he came down the stairs, walking past her, brushing stray hair from his eyes. He was in desperate need of a haircut and, as her not-so-willing victim, he was going to get one. She was finally practicing on real people at beautician school—she would get her certificate in two more months and, at twenty-four, it couldn’t come fast enough. Her younger stepbrother made for the perfect subject, even if he’d signed on under duress.
“Here, slide up to the sink,” she pointed to where she’d set everything out, her own little work station.
Gavin pushed the chair over, dragging the wooden feet across the linoleum.
“Don't drag it,” she snapped. “You'll leave marks. You know my mother will have fit if she sees it.”
Her stepbrother rolled his dark, smoky-gray eyes, but he picked up the chair and set it carefully in front of the sink.
“Where is her highness anyway?” Gavin settled into the chair, leaning his head back against the sink. “Out with Dad’s credit cards?”
“Likely.” Sasha snorted, turning on the water so she could get it to a good temperature. She wished she had one of those chairs like they had at the salon that leaned back and a sink with a dip in the front, but this would have to do. “She mentioned something about a sale at Macy’s before she left.”
Their parents had been married all of a year now and Sasha didn’t think it was going to last. Gavin’s parents had gone through a hellacious divorce and his biological mom still called their house all the time to talk to her ex-husband. Whenever Sasha’s mother answered the phone, she called her the “fucking slut who stole my husband.” It was a bad scene. They’d lived with this sort of menage-a-divorce for over a year now and it was getting tiresome.
Thankfully, Gavin had turned eighteen last year and there was no more child support or custody to fight about, but that didn’t seem to stop Gavin’s mom’s phone calls or the late night arguments they caused between Gavin’s dad and Sasha’s mom.
Gavin and Sasha became involuntary spectators to all the shouting matches. During those times, Gavin would bury his nose in a thick science fiction novel and Sasha would peruse fashion magazines, glancing at each other over the tops of their respective reading material with knowing looks.
“Stop squirming,” Sasha told Gavin as she put a smock on him—she’d “borrowed” one from the salon. It fastened around his neck and covered him all the way around. “I need to wash your hair first. Just how much product did you put in it?”
“Just do it, already!” He scowled as she ran a hand through his thick, dark, sandy-brown hair. He let it grow long—it was almost to his shoulders—and had a habit of just pulling a beanie on over the mess. Not that he didn’t look good in it. He did. Her stepbrother was a little hottie. Problem was, he knew it.
“Promise to behave?” She pulled back Gavin's hair with both hands, tilting his head back and leaning in to look him right in the eyes.
“Sure, Sis.” He flashed her a devastating smile. “Just don’t shave me bald.”
“You’re not Samson and I’m not Delilah.” She rolled her eyes, testing the water, making sure it wasn’t too cold or too hot. “Head back. Sorry it’s kind of awkward.”
“It’s all right.” He scooted back against the sink, letting her guide his head.
“Too hot?” She sprayed a trickle on his scalp, watching his face, but he’d already closed his eyes, a half-smile on his face.
“Feels good,” he admitted, letting out a breath, and giving her another confession. “I like when you wash my hair.”
Sasha smiled, using the sprayer to wet his thick hair. She liked it too, to be honest. The way he closed his eyes and relaxed, letting himself go. Even when Gavin was just chilling on the couch or reading a book, he was always all too aware of his surroundings. Hypervigilant, even. Probably due to living with his psycho mother.
It was good to know that, despite appearances to the contrary, Gavin enjoyed being Sasha's test subject. She took great care to wet his hair thoroughly before using something masculine-smelling—he’d protested the flowery scent of the shampoo the first time she’d done this—to start washing.
“Comfortable?” Sasha inquired, feeling him shift as she leaned in to use some of her more advanced scalp-massaging techniques.
“Very.” Gavin nodded, not opening his eyes, but he drew his lower lip between his teeth as she made slow circles with her fingers. “Goddamn, your hands are like magic.”
That made her smile even more.
Her stepbrother was an enigma. His perpetual single status either came about because Gavin exhibited the classic symptoms of the chronic introvert or because he had a willful contrarian nature. He acted like a put-upon sci-fi nerd, but his body didn't fit the stereotype. After his father forced him to go out fo
r track and field, his body bloomed with the cultivation of body lifting, distance running, and cross-training. She’d watched him blush and get tongue tied around other girls—although he seemed to have no problem talking with Sasha—but the boy was cut.
He could have had any girl he wanted, but he didn’t have any. What friends Gavin did have involved a cast of social misfits and Dungeons & Dragons freaks, who did nothing but talk about character classes, quests, and DM-ing. And Sasha knew it would catch up with him eventually, but clearly one of the perks of being just eighteen involved having a Thor-like body based on a diet of Funyuns and Mountain Dew.
She’d seen him bring home a couple girls—dark-haired, long-limbed, athletic girls who looked, a little eerily, quite a bit like Sasha. The nerdy ones, like the unconventionally attractive, geeky girl they occasionally let play D&D, he didn’t seem to notice. Although she’d noticed the nerdy girl noticing him. Not that she could blame her, poor thing. Her stepbrother was way out of her league, in spite of his geeky tendencies.
She remembered telling him about it, thinking maybe she could give the girl a chance at her dream guy.
“You know Stephanie likes you,” she said. She had come down to the basement to dig her favorite pair of panties out of the dryer—she had a date. The basement was the holiest of holies for the D&D players.
“Shhh,” Gavin said, clearly embarrassed. “Not so loud.”
“Hi Stephanie,” she said over his shoulder.
She noticed him looking at her in her cami and boxers. She noticed some of the other nerds—who didn’t have Gavin’s physique—trying not to get caught looking.
“Fuck off, Sasha.” He scowled, waving her away.
“Now that's not very nice.”
“Leave us alone. We're busy. This is important!”
“Clearly.” She smirked and she saw him looking at the pair of black lace panties dangling from her index finger. “Word to the wise, Poindexter. Sometimes the thing you’re looking for is right under your nose. Stick with something closer to home.”
She turned to go and saw him looking pointedly at her ass.
“Not that close, buttmunch.” She had given a little laugh when his neck flushed.
Stephanie had just stared straight ahead, like she hadn’t heard the whole exchange. And somehow, Sasha knew he wouldn’t give the girl a shot. Stephanie just wasn’t his type. He liked a girl with more sass. A girl who would verbally spar with him. A girl who wouldn’t be a doormat. And he liked them curvy. Not fat, but with real curves. Round hips. Busty. Sasha glanced down at her own cleavage, which was practically spilling out of her white tank-tee, now pressed against her stepbrother’s bulging bicep. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel the hard sinew of him under the cape, the flex of the muscle.
She was older, and she should have known better, but she had to admit, she liked tempting him. The way his gaze followed her around the house, whether she was wearing yoga pants, jeans, or just panties and a tank top, made her feel tingly in all the wrong places. Or the right ones. He liked it as much as she did.
And while she really did need the practice, when she’d suggested cutting his hair for the first time, she hadn’t been thinking about her future career. She’d been thinking about running her fingers through his hair, pressing her breasts against him, feeling him shift. She’d been thinking about watching him bite his lip, almost like he was in pain, when she leaned in to blow away the little hairs that stuck to the back of his neck.
He’d gotten an erection the first time she cut his hair. He’d tried to hide it when she took off the cape, but she’d seen the considerable bulge in his jeans when he stood, mumbling something about the bathroom and breaking into a speed-walk.
She’d known better, but she followed him anyway.
And he’d left the door open, like an invitation. He always did.
She’d watched him unzip his jeans and scoop out his cock, already slicked with pre-cum. It was just as gorgeous as the rest of him. One hand leaning against the wall above the toilet, the other tugging furiously at his cock, he was quite the sight to behold. Watching him made her nipples hard, her ass clench. Her breath grew shallow in his throat as she watched his hips thrust into his fist, as if fucking an imaginary cunt. She wondered who he was thinking about when he grunted, head going back, lower lip turning white under the gnash of his teeth as he came.
All that white, hot cum wasted, splashing the toilet seat.
She knew it was wrong, but it made her mouth water and her pussy spasm with need, watching him jerk off.
The thing was, he knew she listened in. She was sure of it.
It had become their little game, a ritual that followed their shave-and-a-haircut sessions. And she was looking forward to watching him do it again today, seeing his hand wrapped around that thick, throbbing shaft. She could only imagine it in her own hand,
“God, that feels so good.” Gavin gave a little shudder as ran the sprayer over his scalp, rinsing the suds away. “You’re going to have some lucky customers.”
“Ya think?” Sasha grabbed a towel, gently rubbing his wet hair, wicking away the water.
She saw his eyes, with those impossibly thick, dark lashes, flutter open, his gaze raking over her cleavage. He was relaxed now, more relaxed than she ever saw him. It was like her fingers really were magic, giving him the sort of relief he rarely allowed himself to experience. And by the way he shifted in his seat as she leaned over him, she knew he was hard. She could picture him straining against the zipper of his jeans.
“You, uh… need another towel.” His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed and Sasha glanced down to see the front of her cami was soaked. And she hadn’t worn a bra, so her dark nipples and areolas were clearly visible.
“Occupational hazard, I guess.” She arched her back slightly as she studied the front of her shirt. Her nipples were poking out, very noticeable. “I’ll have to remember not to wear white to the salon.”
“Not unless you want to put on a show.” He sat up shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair as he toweled his own wet hair to a more manageable dampness.
“Are you enjoying the show?” Sasha asked, seeing him looking at her wet shirt again, out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want her to notice him noticing. But she noticed.
“I’m a guy.” Gavin snorted, tossing the towel onto the counter. “I’d have to be dead not to look.”
“No harm in looking, right?” Sasha smirked.
“If you say so.” He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.
She didn’t know what made her bolder today, although if she let herself contemplate it, maybe she did know. It was probably her discovery earlier in the week that her stepbrother snuck into the bathroom while she was showering to watch her. The little perv. But the thought of him, cock in hand, getting off while he watched her soap up in the shower didn’t actually disgust or shock her the way it was supposed to. It should have, but it didn’t.
In fact, right that very moment, Sasha was imagining his cock and balls trapped in his boxer briefs, hot and throbbing in his jeans. She couldn’t see his erection because of the cape, but she could tell he had one by the way he moved in the chair when she urged him to turn it, pulling it away from the sink, so she could get a 360 angle on his head.
“Not too short,” he warned as she picked up the scissors.
She’d done it enough to know just what he wanted. It didn’t take her long to get it the length he wanted—up off his shoulders, still covering his neck—but she took her time anyway, moving around to his front, giving him an eyeful of her breasts in her wet shirt. The water had made her a little cold, but inside, she felt warm. Hot, even. Her pussy felt swollen against the seam of her jeans. And her nipples were hard little pebbles.
“You want a shave too?” She ran her fingertips over his stubble and his gaze shifted upward from her breasts to meet her eyes. He licked his lips and nodded, but didn’t speak. Probably couldn’t. His eyes had gone from smoke t
o fire. There was a dazed look in them, something raw and animal, that made Sasha’s knees feel weak.
“Might as well clean you up good.” Her fingers tilted his chin up again—his eyes had fallen once again to the tempting swell of her breasts—and he gave a soft sigh. “Never know when you’re going to meet Ms. Right.”
“Right.” His eyes searched hers, quizzical. He was confused by her sudden softness, her slow tease.
“You’re going to make some girl very lucky, little brother.” Sasha leaned over to kiss his forehead, her lips brushing his hairline. She felt his spine stiffen, heard his breath catch. “Lean back again. You can put your head on the edge of the sink.”
Gavin complied, careful to lift the chair when he moved it.
“The straight razor?” He raised one eyebrow as she sharpened it on the strap. “Really?”
“I need the practice.” She held it up, watching it glint in the light.
“Guess I’m your guinea pig.”
“Oink.” She giggled, reaching for the shaving cream.
“Guinea pigs don’t oink.”
“Okay, smartass.” She rolled her eyes, spreading shaving cream over his jaw and neck and cheeks. He closed his eyes again, but he wasn’t as relaxed now. In fact, he was quite tense. She could feel the way he held his body, tight, ready to spring. His breathing was shallow in his chest, and fast.
She was careful with the razor, giving him as close a shave as she could. She actually liked him with a little stubble—it made him look older, a little more dangerous. He had a sweet, baby face underneath though, quite handsome. Strong jaw, high cheekbones. If he wasn’t such a geek and completely uninterested in fashion, he probably could have been a damned model. Underwear model, she thought, remembering what he looked like tugging on his hard cock. He’d fill out the product quite nicely.
The boy was packing quite a bit of heat in those jeans, she remembered with a little shiver. Her nipples were hard again, but not because she was wet or cold. She had to admit, the thought of him jerking off turned her on. And it turned her on even more to think he might have been thinking about her. When she’d caught sight of him standing at the bathroom door, watching her through the crack, she’d been surprised at first. But then… as her hands moved over her belly and breasts, feeling his gaze on her, that feeling had morphed into something else.