HUGE - A Stepbrother Romance Read online

  “Fuck you feel so good,” he says, “I want you to come on me, Jenna. Show me how good I make you feel.”

  I grab hold and dig my fingers into his gloriously firm ass, pulling him towards me in short sharp thrusts that are exactly what I need to take me over the edge. He speeds up, into quick hard jerks and that’s it, I’m done for.

  “Unnnnaah,” I cry, way too loudly and he covers my mouth with the palm of his hand and shushes me as my pussy clenches tight around his cock. I’m boneless, sweaty and properly fucked so when he pulls out and starts fisting his cock all I can do is watch. It takes five tight long pulls for him to come and he aims it at my belly, covering me in thick white steaks.

  I look down at myself, and the disheveled, dirty and wanton girl that Harrison has turned me into. Then I look up at him; at his rumpled hair, heaving chest and sweat coated skin and I can’t help but laugh.

  We are so perfect together it’s ridiculous.

  Stepbrother or not, Harrison Stone is mine. And now I’ve got him, I’m never letting him go.

  About the Author

  Stephanie Brother writes scintillating stories with stepsiblings as their main romantic focus. She’s always been curious about the forbidden, and this is her way of exploring such complex relationships that threaten to keep her couples apart. As she writes her way to her dream job, Ms. Brother hopes that her readers will enjoy the full emotional and romantic experience as much as she’s enjoyed writing them.

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  Huge X2 – A TWIN STEPBROTHER ROMANCE (MENAGE)

  Description

  There are rumors going around about my twin stepbrothers.

  HUGE rumors.

  I try to ignore gossip, but that’s easier said than done when it involves crazy sex stuff and verified reports about the size of things that a stepsister should know nothing about.

  Ethan and Nathan are the identically gorgeous hunks of man flesh that have just moved into my house. Even before the rumors, I could barely look at them, with their ridiculously twinkly blue eyes, and smiles that turn me into a mindless puddle of goo.

  We’re supposed to be family and I’m trying my hardest to be a welcoming little stepsister. But then I overhear them talking about things I am definitely not supposed to know, and suddenly I realize I’m in double trouble.

  HUGE X2 is the story of a girl’s realization that the best things in life come in extra-large, twin packs.

  EXCERPT

  1

  DOUBLE TROUBLE

  When people ask me if I have brothers or sisters I usually tell them no; then I remember Ethan and Nathan and blush furiously at my mistake. See, I was an only child until I turned nineteen, so it’s strange to suddenly find myself with two huge stepbrothers and a whole new status as a little sister.

  Tiny is what they call me. Sometimes Titch. Midget is a favorite too. And Peanut. Whatever name they give me, I hate it. The whole teasing thing is something totally new to me, and at first I really didn’t know how to take it. Girls who grow up with real brothers are toughened up from birth. I got the joy of having to learn as an adult.

  After a year, I’ve grown used to the teasing, but not their size. At five foot three, I’m a fraction under the average height for a girl, but Ethan and Nathan are towering hunks of men that loom over me at six foot three and a half. They like to remind me of the half, as though being a foot taller isn’t enough for them to be happy. Sometimes I feel like they are as broad as they are tall, with their ridiculous shoulders and chests with more hills and valleys than a national park. And their thighs. Oh god, their thighs are just so massive and muscular that their pants look like they might split at any moment.

  Did I mention how gorgeous they are? When I pass them in the hallway I find myself leaning against the wall, not only because they seem to take up most of the space wherever they are, but because looking at them is like looking into the beams of a passing car; I’m dazed until they have passed, and even for a few moments afterwards.

  All my friends are blatant in their jealousy. “I can’t believe you get to share a house with the Stanmore twins,” they say. They’ve heard the rumors about them too. The whispers about the size of things I should know nothing about, and how well they know how to use them. There are darker tales too, tales that keep me awake at night. Apparently they like to share, and I’m not talking about KFC family buckets here.

  I keep quiet when Katelin and Abigail gossip about them. I don’t get involved in the speculation about who they are fucking and what it must be like. Instead, I tell my friends about all the annoying things that come with having them live with me: how their shoes are like a row of canoes by our front door, and how I can never find any snacks in the cupboards because they eat everything in sight.

  As much as I complain about them, I actually secretly like having them around. My house was pretty boring when it was just me and mom. Now I have a stepfather who’s hilarious, and a home that’s always full of people. We have cookouts and movie nights, and everything’s so much more fun than it used to be.

  That’s why my secret is kind of terrible. It’s why I haven’t told anyone, not even my best friend Katelin. It’s not that she’s particularly judgmental or prudish or anything. It’s just that when you think you might be in love with your twin stepbrothers, anyone would find that news shocking. I mean, what am I thinking? For one, they are two years older than me and always have these perfectly amazing looking girls buzzing around them like flies on unmentionable stuff. For two, they seem to think I am just available as a source of amusement. For three, and most importantly, they are twins.

  There are two of them.

  Did I mention they are twins and not just one person?

  I wish they were one person.

  Sometimes I fantasize that I creep into their room in the middle of the night, and with my imaginary super strength, pick one of them up and slot him inside the other, like human fleshy Russian dolls. But then I get caught up on which one of them I’d slide into the other, and what that would mean. If I chose to slot Ethan inside Nathan, would that leave me with bubbly Eth or cuddly Nath? I get my fantasies tangled and complicated with feelings because I could never choose between them, not even in my mind.

  It’s Saturday night, and I should be out having fun. I want to find the prospect of going to a bar with my friends appealing. I’ve been single for ten months, basically since I realized that every time I kissed my boyfriend, I was imagining other faces. Katelin has been hassling me about going out more. I think she thinks that I’m depressed. I know she’s worrying about my abnormal dislike of socializing, but I just don’t find the prospect of going out and talking to other men appealing in any way. I want to kick back in my living room and hope that Ethan and Nathan are tired from working out and come to hang out with me. They always want to watch sports, and I get a lot of criticism for begging to watch movies. When they eventually cave to my womanly tactics – pouting, sulking, and threats to knee them in very tender places – they join me on our ark of a couch for a marathon of 80’s teen movies. I hold the popcorn because they don’t eat carbs after 5 pm, and they provide the hilarious running commentary on fashion and hairstyles. You see, that’s how I know they love The Breakfast Club and St Elmo’s Fire as much as I do. And don’t get me started on Pump up the Volume. Christian Slater rules.

  Anyway, I digress. Sort of.

  So here I am on the couch alone.

  Somehow my plan seems to be failing in two very crucial ways. No Nathan and no Ethan. And starting Pretty in Pink now, when I’m by my lonesome, seems like such a sad, sad waste.

  My phone rings and it’s Katelin calling to tell me that I have to meet her at
our favorite local bar. From the noise in the background, I can tell it’ll be a good night. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her no, but when she starts listing all the people that are there, including my stepbrothers, that no becomes a rather too enthusiastic YES.

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  ARRESTED – A Stepbrother Cop Romance

  Description

  He’s a good cop, but a very BAD BOY.

  When gorgeous Officer Carlisle pulled me over for speeding, I told him how sorry I was. That didn’t stop him from telling me to step out of the car and making me spread my legs so he could check for offensive weapons.

  I wanted to ask him if a hungry kitty constituted an offensive weapon, because damn, mine just wanted to eat him all up!

  Those eyes should have been enough to get him arrested, forget those cheekbones and delicious full lips that stayed serious, even when I was sassing him.

  And his hands. When he ran those rough palms against the inside of my thighs, I actually moaned.

  Then he pulled out his handcuffs and showed me just how well he could wield his night stick.

  Okay, that last bit only happened in my fantasies later that night, and pretty much every night since Officer Carlisle told me what a bad girl I was. I thought I was never going to see him again, then Mom tells me she’s getting engaged to her boyfriend and you guessed it, Officer Carlisle just happens to be my sexy new stepbrother!

  That should make me think twice about being a naughty girl, shouldn’t it? Except, now my past is coming back to haunt me and Officer Carlisle might just be the only man who can turn this bad girl good.

  Officer Carlisle knows exactly how to use his equipment. Read on if you like your cops a whole lot dirty in the bedroom!

  1

  ALLYSON

  Sex is dangerous.

  At least, that’s my experience.

  It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. And worst of all, it has the ability to totally fuck up your life.

  Panic rushes through me as I press my foot harder on the accelerator, racing through the streets and taking another corner at high speed. It’s just after 1am and this late at night, the roads are deserted. There are no street lights in this part of town and my headlights illuminate only a foot of the world in front of me.

  I’m driving dangerously, recklessly.

  A fleeting thought that someone or something will dash out onto the road makes me ease up on the pedal as I take the next bend. I know it’s foolish to take risks like this but my heart is racing so hard. Drew’s words run through my mind again and the memory of his threats make my stomach clench. I feel like I have nothing to lose because if he does what he says he’s going to do, then he’ll destroy everything that matters to me.

  The steering wheel slips slightly in my grasp and I rub my hands on the skirt of the short black dress I’m wearing. I grip the wheel again so I can pull out of the bend in the road, forcing my car to surge faster. I can’t seem to put enough distance between me and the party.

  I knew that Drew wasn’t going to take the news well. He’s always had a bad temper and a fragile ego which is a terrible combination, but things couldn’t have gone worse. I thought he was unhappy too and I hoped he might listen to reason.

  I hoped that he’d let me go without a fight.

  I was so, so wrong.

  I clench the steering wheel tighter, foot almost at the floor when the interior of my car suddenly turns red and blue. I check my rear view mirror quickly and groan at the sight of the police car behind me.

  Fuck.

  On top of everything, I don’t need to be losing my license. My already racing heart beats so impossibly fast that I feel the pulsing in my throat and the tips of my fingers.

  How much over the speed limit was I going? I have no idea.

  I carefully pull over to the side of the road, putting the car in park with my hands on the steering wheel. It’s what I’m supposed to do. I’ve seen enough cop movies to know that. It’s also the only way I can keep my hands from trembling.

  Adrenaline’s a bitch.

  I try to concentrate on my breathing as I wait for the officer to approach. I’ve never been pulled over for speeding before and I have no idea what I’m going to say to defend myself. Maybe my clean record will go in my favor? I should tell the officer that if it looks like he might come down hard on me. I know there’s no defense when you’re guilty, just excuses or bravado. If nothing else, tonight has already taught me that I’m not the best at pleading my case.

  The police car stops about a foot away from my car and I watch through the rear view mirror as the cop gets out of his cruiser. He’s tall and younger than I was expecting, walking with a swagger that immediately gets my back up. Does he think I’m okay with waiting out here in the dark while he ambles around like he has all the time in the world? When he’s about halfway to my car I roll down the window and plaster a smile on my face. I might have no chance at getting out of this but I’d be stupid not to try.

  “License and registration, Miss,” the officer says in a voice that so deep and smooth I’m momentarily taken aback.

  He bends to look in the window and my breath escapes in a whoosh. This cop is hot. I should be fearful but when attraction hits, somehow all my sense seems to fly out of the window. Damn, he’s broad. He should look dowdy in his regulation uniform, but it just seems to show everything off. His eyes bore into me with a look of boredom. He must get so tired of doing routine road stops. I bet he does so many he can repeat his warnings in his sleep. I think I must be imagining a slight change in his attitude when his gaze falls on my legs. Short already, the hem of my dress is high up my thighs from sitting for so long. I instinctively move to push it down.

  “Of course, Officer,” I say, trying to cover the embarrassing pause between us, fumbling in my purse for my license, and the glove compartment to retrieve the car registration. I hand them over and peer at him through my lashes.

  He glances at my license then looks at me. “Do you know how fast you were going, Allyson?”

  Shit. I have no idea. My only thought was getting away from the party. Away from him. My eyes had been on the road, not on the speedometer.

  “Too fast?” I say quietly. He frowns.

  “Step out of the car.”

  Blood pounds in my head and rushes in my ears. This is going badly. “Is that really necessary?” I ask, hoping he’ll let me off the hook. There is a chill in the night air and I’m not wearing suitable clothes for standing around by the side of the road.

  “Out of the car.” There is no hesitation in his voice. No waver to give me an indication it’s worth pleading any further.

  Fear, panic, and denial race through me because life really knows how to kick a person when they are down. I clench my hands on the steering wheel, inhaling deeply. The officer clears his throat impatiently and that’s enough to get me angry. I’ve had enough of men trying to tell me what to do. I refuse to be scared by this pompous lawman. I may have lost control in a lot of aspects of my life but I can have control here. I don’t have to let what happened at the party influence what happens next. This stop for speeding doesn’t have to result in a ticket or a suspension if I give it all I’ve got.

  I turn to take a better look at the officer who has now crossed his arms. He’s getting mad because I’m keeping him waiting but the fury only seems to make him look hotter. He’s still holding my license in his big hand and for a fleeting moment, I wonder how his touch might feel against my skin. Stupid girl, thinking about sex when everything around me is turning to shit. It’s sex that has gotten me into this mess.

  Maybe some harmless flirting will get me out of it, though.

  “Of course, Officer?”

  “Carlisl
e.”

  He’s still standing in front of the door and I frown. “I can’t open the door with you right there,” I say. “I don’t want to knock you over. My dress will do that I’m sure.” I flash him a smile to round off my pathetic attempt at flirting.

  His lips twitch but his expression remains impassive. He moves slightly to the right so I can swing the door open safely and I notice, with some small glimmer of hope, that he hasn’t reached for his notepad or ticket book.

  I swing my legs out in slow motion taking a deep breath. If I’m going to do this, I had better make it good. Either he’ll book me or let me off without a ticket.

  My high heels tap the pavement and then I unfold myself out of the car like I’m arriving at a red carpet event. I push my chest out and stand up straight. Though I’m wearing heels, Officer Carlisle is still, at least, five inches taller than me. He peers down at the swell of my breasts and I silently thank Rachel for telling me to buy this dress.

  “Officer Carlisle, how fast was I going?”

  “Thirty miles over the speed limit, Miss.”

  My smile falters for a second. Thirty miles over. Was I going that fast? I swallow, trying to recover my cool, and lean closer. “Allyson, please. I like it when you call me Allyson.”

  I run my hand down his arm. His skin is hot and his muscles flex under my touch. I gaze up into his face and it’s still like stone, but his eyes seem to twinkle. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Rugged looking with something so cold about him that it makes me want to warm him right up.

  I look down at where his gun and cuffs are stored at his waist and feel a rush of heat between my legs. My hand wants to reach out and touch that cool metal. I know what those handcuffs would feel like wrapped around the tender flesh and bone of my wrists. I shake my head and blink again at my own stupidity.

  Is this all it takes to make me forget my resolve?

  Men are trouble, whichever way you look at it, but here I am thinking about what Officer Carlisle would look like if his lips curled into a smile. I want to make his eyes twinkle again.