PLOWED: A Stepbrother Romance (Bonus Story: Gripped) Page 2

“I am. But this job pays the bills.”

  “And this job’s gonna pay my bills too. Get it out of your head that I knew you were here and came for some other reason. I’m here to work for assloads of cash.”

  “Assloads, huh.” For the first time today, she smiles.

  I grin and spread my arms wide. “Fucking mountains of money. Gonna buy me a boat with my first paycheck.”

  She laughs. “And I bet that huge ego of yours will sink you and your precious boat the minute you set sail.”

  “You sound so hopeful that would happen.”

  “I am, then I won’t have to share that with you.” She points at a moderately sized cottage standing a few yards adjacent to the house. She grimaces at me. “Can’t you get an apartment close by or something?”

  “No can do, princess. You’re stuck with me.”

  “Ugh.”

  She storms off toward the cottage, her sexy ass like a magnet pulling me in her direction. The idea that I have to share close living quarters with her excites me to no end. Which it shouldn’t. Haylee is right. We’re stepsiblings. We can never happen.

  But god-fucking-damnit, I want it to.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Haylee

  “I’m not joking, Haylee. The guy’s dick was as big as my arm!”

  “Yikes. You can’t see it but I’m crossing my legs right now. That doesn’t sound fun or comfortable.”

  Tasha laughs. I hear a whirring sound in the background. She’s probably at home mixing up one of her evil, juice mix concoctions. A yoga instructor with nary an inch of fat on her lean body, she often thanks the juice mixes for her slim shape. But even if I ever became desperate to lose weight, I’ll quicker fling myself in a live volcano than drink Tasha’s celery-spinach-olive-salmon juice mix.

  “Maybe not to you since you haven’t been laid in centuries, but I like monster cocks and I rode it like a champ.”

  “Hope you got a prize.” I stare at my laptop screen. On it sits a half-finished, digital watercolour of a woman in a dress comprised of roses. I’ve entered an art competition hosted by a top graphics design company in Los Angeles. The winner gets ten grand and a contract to work with the company. The money is nice, but working with an organization that produces creative and professional work is even nicer.

  I'm supposed to submit this piece soon but I’ve been stuck on it for the past two days. Basically since the day Connor arrived. Even without trying, the guy is proving to be a major pain in the ass.

  “I did,” says Tasha. “A fantastic orgasm that knocked me the fuck out. Slept for hours.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “You could be as lucky as me if you came to one of my classes. I’m telling you, babe. There are a few cute guys. There’s one I know who would be perfect for you.”

  I sigh. “Tash, I can’t do yoga. No offence, but I’ll get bored. I’ll be thinking of the million things I could’ve been doing. Then the whole ‘free your mind’ thing that’s big in yoga wouldn’t be effective.”

  “God, Haylee, do you ever listen to yourself talk? You put up a lot of obstacles in your way. A lot of ‘can’ts’ and ‘wouldn’ts’.”

  I shift in my chair. “I don’t put up obstacles. I state the facts.”

  “I’m pretty sure pessimists say the same thing.” There’s a pause and the sound of her drinking. Then she smacks her lips. “You need a good fuck to get rid of all that negativity. Instead of all the ‘no, no, no’, you’ll be saying ‘yes, yes, yes!’”

  “Do you realize every single bit of advice you give is to have more sex?”

  “Because I’m right! More sex, less problems.”

  “Yeah, well, sex can't fix some problems.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like my annoying stepbrother working at and living in the same place as me.”

  “I dunno. Is he hot? If he is then sex can fix that problem too!”

  I sit up from my slouch. “Tasha!”

  She cackles. “OK, so don’t fuck your stepbrother. But I gotta go, babe. Got a class in twenty. Love you. Bye!”

  There’s a click as the line disconnects. I put down the phone and let out a soft huff. The digital painting stares back at me, mocking me with its incompleteness. Irritated, I’m about to get up and go do some work over at the house to clear my mind when a chat notification pops up on my laptop screen.

  It’s Andrew. He’s a fellow artist I met on an online forum for graphic designers. We’re kinda dating, but I don’t think we’re even that far in yet. We’ve never met in person, but we Skype from time to time and flirt a lot. We even had a cybersex episode once. He’s not panty-wetting hot, he’s got average but acceptable looks. He’s intelligent if a bit condescending at times. Even though he doesn’t make my stomach quiver or heart lighter, he’s a sane guy. That’s good enough in a place like L.A. where wackos and assholes are the status quo.

  I open up the chat window and I’m immediately confronted with a picture of a hard penis. The caption beneath it reads: THINKING OF YOU. I guess it’s Andrew’s, because the chair the penis’ owner sits on has the same fabric as Andrew’s chair.

  I click the picture to make it bigger. I’m not shocked by his crassness, but I am underwhelmed by his…equipment. Tasha’s words about her latest bedroom conquest march across my mind.

  The guy’s dick was as big as my arm!

  Well, Andrew’s dick is as small as—

  “And here I thought you were hard at work, when in truth, you’re feasting on porn.”

  Startled, I jerk a bit then slam my laptop lid down. I turn in my seat to glare at Connor, certain my head is on its way to explosion judging by the fiery heat in my face.

  “I’m not…that wasn’t…it wasn’t porn!” I splutter.

  Connor’s grin broadens as he shrugs. He’s wearing a brown cap and a beige overall that’s dirty at the knees and pockets. Yet, somehow, he still manages to look sexy. I think it’s the way he's shoved his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, showing off his thick, firm forearms.

  “Hey, no judgment here. Everybody’s gotta get their rocks off some way or the other.”

  He peels off his gardening gloves and drops them on the kitchen counter. Rising to my feet, I frown between him and the clumps of mud drizzled onto the kitchen counter’s surface from the gloves. Even if it’s owned by Miley, this is my cottage. I’ve been keeping it clean and tidy. Then Connor came lumbering into my life, trailing mud and dirt and grass every time he set foot inside.

  “It wasn’t porn. I wouldn’t watch it in the kitchen, anyway.” I pick up the gloves and move them to a little basket I’ve told him to use.

  “So you usually watch it somewhere else?”

  I open my mouth to say yes, but stop myself in time. It’s too late. There’s a smug smile curving his lips. God, I wanna hit him. Just one time. A solid punch to his stupid, crazy good-looking face.

  “Mind your own damn business.” I reach for a wet cloth and wipe away the dirt then head to the sink.

  “I wish I could, but that dick pic is branded in my fucking brain much as I hate it.”

  He takes off his cap and dumps it in the basket, then he rummages through the fridge for a bottle of water. After downing the bottle in a long gulp, he leans against the counter beside me, his blue eyes still filled with amusement. He radiates a pleasant warmth and he smells like sweat and earth. To my surprise, it isn’t a terrible scent. In fact I want to move closer to him.

  “If it wasn’t porn, was it your man’s dick?” he continues. “Not like I was staring at another guy’s junk for too long or anything, but I gotta say, sis, you could do better.”

  “He’s got what he was given.” I wash and wring the cloth dry. I’m still blushing. It’s hard not to when Connor is around.

  “Yeah, but you deserve more.” His voice has become lower, sultrier. “Bigger. Something that’ll frighten and excite you.” He leans closer and my heart rate kicks up a notch when our gazes meet. His voice becomes softer. “Somet
hing that’ll make you scream.”

  There’s a quiver in the pit of my stomach. My pussy clenches around air, around the phantom cock Connor says I deserve and which I now desperately want. I know he’s talking about his cock. I know that basically means he’s just admitted he wants to fuck me. And I know I ought to put him in his place and remind him of what I said the day he first arrived.

  But I can’t. He’s like fire and I’m standing way too close, literally and figuratively. The temptation to reach out and touch is strong as hell. I want him and what he’s offering. How bad would it be?

  No! No, I can’t! Tasha says I say that word a lot, but it’s justified. Connor’s got ‘heartbreaker’ written all over his handsome face and I’m a girl who’s risk averse.

  Plus, he’s my stepbrother.

  It’s an effort to back away from him. My breathing is heavier than it should be. Connor watches me, his arms folded across his chest. He stands in a relaxed pose, but his trained gaze is much like a predator lying in wait. I’m out of my element. I’ll be eaten alive. All I’ve got left to do is run.

  “I…uhh…I have to go.” I grab up the keys to my small van, and all but run from the cottage and Connor.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Connor

  Standing in the doorway, I watch Haylee pump her legs and arms. She guns it for the van like if she’s got a devil on her heels.

  The devil being me, of course.

  I smile and shake my head, a bit amused and more than a little disappointed. I grab my dick over the bulky material of my overall and adjust its angle. Maybe that’s why she booked it. She must have seen the raging stiffy I had and became so disgusted she had no choice but to leave.

  I blow out a breath of irritation and head for the bathroom. Goddamnit, I need to control myself. I’m becoming like one of those disgusting guys who pervs on his female co-workers in the office. What makes my situation worse is that I’m related to my co-worker.

  Not by blood, though. So game on.

  No, not fucking game on at all. Haylee is off-limits. Not only because she’s my stepsister, but she’s exactly the type of girl I’ve been trying to stay away from. The goody-good ones who you have to devote work and attention to. The kind who you give your heart to and then they fling it to the ground and stomp all over it.

  Fuck that noise right in the ass. I’m not going down that road again. After Lisa, I promised myself a life of simplicity. Work hard during the day, then fun times during the night. None of that love or feelings bullshit. All business.

  I strip until I’m naked and climb into the shower. The warm water soothes my tired muscles and rids me of the day’s grime. This property is huge as fuck. I’m just finishing up on the hedges. Soon, I’ll tackle the weeds. I’ve got some seeds I’m looking forward to try out too. I lean my head forward and let the water spray onto my head, but my mind is still on Haylee.

  All business—that’s what I need to be with her. We work for the same employer. She’s the housekeeper and I, the gardener. If we weren’t related outside of work, our relationship would've been a casual acquaintanceship. So why can’t it be the same way still?

  Yeah, I’m sharing a small living space with her, and yeah, the sight of her makes my dick twitch, but I can and will move past that. I’ll do better. If not for my sake, then at least for hers. I like her. I want her to like me too and not think I’m just a massive creep. I don’t want her to feel so uncomfortable in my presence she has to run away as far as possible from me.

  After I finish showering and dry off, I get dressed. Evening has turned into night and Haylee hasn’t returned yet. It’s dawned on me that maybe I’m just horny. Maybe that’s why I keep hitting on Haylee. I’m going out and I won’t come back until I have a woman with me.

  It’s an age-old cure: one way to forget about a woman is to get inside another one.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Haylee

  By the time I return to the cottage, Connor is nowhere around.

  I’m relieved yet annoyed. I wasted three damn hours in the mall fortifying my resolve to resist him. And now that I’ve returned, my tongue sharp and ready to slice him and his massive ego down, he’s not here.

  It doesn’t matter. I’ll wait for him. He may have almost got me today, but never again will his sexy voice and dirty, hot promises work on me. Not only because he’s my stepbrother, but I have already suffered the experience of being with a guy like him.

  When I told him I knew his type, I wasn’t just talking out of my ass. I dated a Connor-type before a year ago. Heart-stopping good looks, easy charm and a bottomless well of overconfidence.

  I met Nick at a club while out with Tasha. He was unlike any guy I ever dated. Impulsive. Magnetizing. Against Tasha’s warning, I didn’t treat him as a fun fling like I should. I fell hard for the ass. Then I learnt the hard way why that was not a great idea.

  Wanna know how it ended? Badly. He was a psychotic, manipulative sonofabitch. Let’s just say that even though I’m finally over Nick, I probably have some leftover PTSD from the way my relationship with him crashed, exploded, and burned to ashes. So, yeah. Even if Connor is not as crazy as Nick, I've still got some trust issues which would suck if I dare let anything happen between us. Which it won’t. Especially not after I give him a piece of my mind.

  I make dinner, my ears tuned for the sound of his pickup truck. The time ticks away as I wait for him to show up so we can eat together. It’s a weird, old-fashioned habit I got from my mom. When I was a little girl and my dad was still alive, Mom would cook dinner and let me eat first. But she’d wait for Dad to come home so she would eat with him.

  It’s one of the few good memories I have of her. All the others are filled with anger and disappointment, originating around the same time my Dad died in a car accident.

  When Connor still doesn’t return, I tell myself not to worry as I eat my microwaved chicken fettucine. It’s stupid. He’s fine. I mean, yeah, he’s usually conked out on the sofa or in his bedroom after the long day, but unlike me, he’s probably got a social life. Maybe he’s hanging out with friends. Maybe he’s on a date with some girl.

  That last thought bothers me more than it should.

  I drag my weary body to bed. Today has been a long day. Even though Miley Fierce’s house is empty most of the time, it’s still a bitch to maintain for whenever its owner decides to show up unexpectedly. She does that a lot. So I have to always be on my toes and make sure its immaculate at all times.

  I must have fallen asleep because when I jerk awake, there’s an undisturbed quiet surrounding the house. My bedside clock says it’s 2:35am. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I have to pee.

  I hear a moan when I open my bedroom door. It sounds deep, like a man’s. I’m instantly alarmed. Is that Connor? Is he hurt? I head toward his bedroom, but then I hear a grunt. The cottage isn’t big. Two medium-sized bedrooms, a bathroom, a tiny living room and the kitchen. Sounds like he’s in…the kitchen? That’s weird.

  Another moan sounds as my hand finds the light switch to the kitchen in the dark. This time the moan is a lot more feminine.

  “Oh, baby, yeah. I can’t wait. Give it to me…”

  Horrified, I realize what’s going on. But it’s too late. The room brightens, coming alive. I'm presented with a sideways view of a naked Connor positioned behind an equally naked red-haired woman bent over the kitchen counter.

  They both turn surprised looks on me and I’m pretty sure my expression mirrors theirs. Some warning voice screams in my head to turn around and flee, but I’m rooted where I stand. My gaze slides over Connor’s defined flesh, down to where he has one hand fisted around his big, long, thick, rigid—

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” squawks the redhead as she stands up straight. “I can’t believe I fell for this shit again. I can’t believe it!” She bends and snatches up her dress from the floor to cover herself then rounds a glare on Connor. “You told me you were single, asshole!”


  It’s my cue to leave. It’s been my cue to bail since the moment the light turned on. My face on fire, I mumble a quick sorry and scamper back to my bedroom.

  I no longer need to pee.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Connor

  Remember when I said I wanted Haylee to like me? Well, I’ve pretty much shot that plan to hell. If looks could kill, every time Haylee’s gaze fell on me I’d be gutted and beheaded, my remains thrown to wild wolves.

  It’s been a week since she caught me fucking that redhead. Almost fucking to be precise. I never got to cross the finish line because the redhead—Stacey or Sally; can’t remember now—refused to believe Haylee was my stepsister. A hysterical woman accusing you of being a cheating sleazeball is definitely a boner-killer.

  I’m fucking pissed off, of course. Not only have I been cockblocked, the cockblocker is also angry at me. Why? I don’t have a goddamn clue. She won’t speak to me. Whenever I try to have a conversation with her, all I’m met with is chilly silence or a cold, clipped response.

  I’m the one who should be angry. If she’d taken a damn cue and stayed the hell away from the kitchen that night, neither of us would be in this position. Even worse, she had stood there and stared. I hope she got a good eyeful. Who knows? Maybe that’s why she’s upset? She took a long look at me and instantly got jealous she wasn’t the redhead.

  I wipe away the sweat on my forehead with the back of my arm. Then I squint up at the bright blue afternoon sky. When I got up early this morning, the sky promised a cool day. So did the weather forecast. Leave it to Mother Nature to change her mind at the drop of a hat. Good thing I finally finished the hedges. Clipping in this heat would have been a major pain in the ass.

  My stomach rumbles. After a final pass with the water over the freshly planted seeds, I head toward the cottage for something to eat. Even though Haylee is angry with me, she still makes me lunch. She never says it’s for me, but there’s always just enough for me to have.