Stepbrother Studs: Taboo A-Z Boxed Set Volume 2: A Stepbrother Romance Bundle (Stepbrother Studs Boxed Sets) (18 page)

“What, are you afraid I’d steal her away from you?”  She shook him loose with a smirk.  “Listen.  It’s not my fault you can’t get laid.”

She went to her room and shut her door.  Leaning against it, she let out a pent-up breath and tried to figure out why she felt so shaky inside. 

When Jessie and Amanda called and asked to come over, Veronica hesitated.  She didn’t want to make Ian mad, not really.  She’d come home from work at two in the morning to find him still awake, rummaging through his CDs in the living room, swearing because he couldn’t find what he wanted.  He stormed off to his room without a word when she came in.  She saw him in his room—which she sometimes called “the punk museum”—flipping through his collection of punk on vinyl. 

He’d obviously found what he was looking for, because the Ramones were playing when she went by on her way to the bathroom.  She saw him sitting at his little desk, writing something.  She knew the Ramones were a great source of inspiration for him, and he loved music, but Ian wasn’t a musician.  Words were his medium.  He was the most amazing poet she’d ever known, and she’d told him a million times he should write song lyrics or something. 

The one time she’d dragged him to a poetry slam, he’d brought the house down.  But Ian wasn’t an extrovert like her.  He didn’t talk much—except around her—but he had a way with words on the page. 

She’d stopped to talk to him but he’d just scowled and waved her away.  Either he was in the middle of something and didn’t want to be interrupted—or he was still mad.  So Veronica went to her room and grabbed her phone, flipping through some YouTube channels to relax a little before she went to sleep. 

That’s when Amanda called and said Jessie wanted them to come over and spend the night, and Veronica hesitated.  What she really wanted to do was go into Ian’s room and stretch out on his bed and talk to him until he sighed.  Then he would start to smile.  Not a lot, just the corner of his full, sexy mouth.  Then he would roll his eyes—those smoky eyes—throw down his pencil, and stalk toward her before pouncing. 

She liked it when he pounced, like a big cat, rolling her under him and tickling her until she cried and told him she was going to pee her pants.  Veronica wondered if she provoked him so often, just because she liked it so much when they made up.  But somehow their fight earlier had been different.  There was more real scorn in it than their usual playful sarcasm. 

So Veronica had invited them over, meeting them at the front door to keep Ian from hearing the knock.  Of course, it was all an exercise in futility.  Besides, if she was going to admit the truth, even if just to herself, she kind of wanted him to hear them rolling around, writhing in pleasure.  She’d even opened the vent between her room and Ian’s just so he could hear everything going on as clearly as possible. 

So she was a passive aggressive little mess, but, well, what the fuck. 

That’s how Veronica ended up half naked on the bed, cuddling Jessie, who was entirely naked, fiddling with the tangled harness of large strap-on.  Amanda was sprawled on the rug, wearing nothing but red panties, which sported the words, “fuck this.”  She was surrounded by a swirl of porn magazines and a sex toy or two. 

And all Veronica could think about was Ian.  The plastic cock in her hand was a poor substitute.  Was he just over there on the other side of the wall, stroking himself?  Was he getting off, listening to them?  God, she hoped so. 

It was so fucking wrong, but she earnestly, fervently, hoped her stepbrother was listening to her, thinking about her, as he jerked his cock and came all over those hard, ridged abs of his. 

Oh, she wanted to lick it off. 

What the hell is wrong with me? 

Right, because a threesome with the girls, that was a-ok.  But fucking your stepbrother?  That would send you straight to hell.  Or jail.  Or someplace not-so-nice, anyway.  Right? 

“Veronica, are you gonna use that thing or not?”  Jessie cocked her head and nudged her with her full, round behind. 

“Coming right up.”  Veronica suppressed a sigh, glancing up at the vent, ears perking up. 

For one glorious moment, she thought she heard him groan and shivered with pleasure. 

She could only dream. 

Ian’s “Fuck Everything, Even Death” trilogy was coming along splendidly.  He was scribbling away when he heard the giggling from the vent, but managed to successfully ignore it.  There was a thump or two against the wall, which sounded almost deliberate to him, and then some more giggling. 

“No!”  Another laugh.  Then Ian thought he heard the word “strap-on.”  This caught his attention and, his mind caught between his work and what was going on next door, he found himself doodling on the margins of his “Death” trilogy. 

“I hate those things!”  More giggling, “They’re so gross.  If I wanted a cock, I’d sleep with a man.”

Ian couldn’t help but listen more closely.  He thought maybe he could hear the buzzing of a vibrator, but was that even possible?  Surely his music would drown
that
out, at least. 

“No.  Put that away.  No cocks.”

“Aw, Amanda...”

There was an inaudible comment or two, then a smacking sound and a whoop, and some laughter.  Something rebounded off the wall with a sharp crack. 

“You broke it!”

“No I didn’t.  It’s still okay.”

“Fuck.”

“Ow!  Don’t squeeze so hard.”

“Jessie doesn’t mind them, do you Jessie?”  More laughter.  The sounds of tumbling and bedsprings and thumping.  There
were
only three of them in there, weren’t there? 

A fucking circus. 

He found himself unable to imagine what was so funny, but his mind began inexorably to wonder what might be going on in his sister’s room.  He found he had been doodling, almost unconsciously, a picture of his sister wearing an enormous strap-on, a smug, all-conquering look on her face.  She seemed to be looking down, as if at some imploring victim. 

“Uuu-UNGH!”

“Ooooh!”

“Slow!  It’s so fucking...  ouch!  ...  big...”

“You should have been a guy.”

“Fuck off.”  More laughter. 

Then it sounded as if Ian’s name came up, and more laughter, followed by some groaning that might even have been a deliberate parody of groaning.  Was any of this for his benefit?  He wondered.  He wouldn’t put it past his sister. 

Ian couldn’t make out if it was two or three of them groaning, but he thought he could hear his sister’s voice in there.  His imagination ran wild.  He thought of her with one hand on each of the other girls’ pussies, playing with them, teasing them, tormenting them.... 

He had little idea of what, exactly, was going on, but it definitely sounded as if his sister was the ringleader, as usual.  He imagined her naked, arranging everything, ordering the girls around.  That would be just like her.  Sometimes he thought she just needed a guy to take her over his knee and spank her curvy, round little ass. 

Damn.  He shouldn’t have let his mind travel so far.  He was, after all, trying to get some work done.  Ian’s hand wandered towards his groin, as his attempts to write poetry became increasingly absentminded. 

“Let me show you how it’s done.”  His sister’s voice came clearly through the vent.  “You don’t need that stupid thing.  Here.”  There seemed to be more sounds of mirth, and wrestling, a tumbling of bodies and a delighted shriek or two.  Then a thump on the wall that made Ian jump and curse. 

He wanted to storm across the hall, break it up, and send the other two home. 

Then, maybe he would be the one who took Veronica over his knee to give her the spanking she deserved. 

Instead, he took off his pants. 

He had intended to be disciplined, to ignore everything in the next room, and when his logical mind had suggested that putting headphones on and playing his music that way would more effectively blot out the sound of his sister’s sex life, another part of him had quite rationally objected that because... 

Well, what, exactly, had been his objection? 

He couldn’t think now. 

It was too late. 

He rationalized his little masturbatory break by saying that there was no way he was ever going to get anything done that evening until he relieved this tension.  They could tear the apartment down then or smash the walls with the strap-on—at least, for a while, he wouldn’t be too horny to work. 

He glanced at the door, wondering if he’d locked it, but his cock ached in his hand, and besides, everyone next door was too busy to bother him anyway. 

His sister’s voice rose above that of the other two girls, commanding, joyful, clearly in charge.  But just exactly what they were doing, he couldn’t tell.  Though he had one hand on his cock, his ear was focused on the vent above his bed, trying for the life of him to figure out what it was the three of them were doing. 

Every time he thought he had it figured out, he would hear something to prove the ménage was not positioned as he’d imagined.  He could picture them on his sister, one of them licking her pussy, the other her tits.  Amanda and Jessie were good-looking girls, he supposed, but they were just bit players in his head.  It was Veronica who took center stage, her eyes half-closed with pleasure, her mouth slightly open as her breath came faster and faster. 

He could almost see her, the pale glow of her skin, sheened with sweat, writhing with pleasure.  He could definitely hear her.  Every time she moaned, his cock jumped in his hand like it could leap off his body and go find her.  His prick was a goddamned divining rod, and she was water.  Sweet, wet, delicious. 

Fuck, he wanted her. 

Ian grabbed his cock, squeezing hard, listening to his sister’s soft moans.  He loved the way her breath caught like that, following by a soft mew, a breathy cry.  She was so hot it set him on fire.  Every part of him wanted her, and when he was like this, completely vulnerable, alone, trembling with lust and longing, it was the only time he was willing to admit the truth.