My Wild Stepbrother Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About This Book

  My Wild Stepbrother

  End

  My Wild Stepbrother

  By Kira Ward

  Copyright © 2014 Kira Ward

  All rights reserved.

  [email protected]

  http://www.amazon.com/author/kiraward

  Warning: This book contains detailed depictions of first time sexual encounters. Do not read if you are offended by mature themes and situations.

  All characters involved in sexual encounters are at least 18 years of age and not blood related. All persons and events are fictional, and any similarities to real places and events are purely coincidental.

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  Chapter 1

  Grace Collins – she refused to take her stepfather’s last name – sprinted the last quarter mile down tony Egret Lane. The houses, more like mansions, were gorgeous and spaced far apart from each other, separated by elegantly landscaped lawns that could have fit the entire apartment complex where Grace and her mother had lived before mommy dearest hooked up with, and later married real-estate tycoon Chambers Falcon.

  She loved this time of morning, just before dawn. The mansions’ driveways were quiet, the Mercedes, Lamborghinis, and BMWs all tucked away in their three, four, or five car garages. Sprinklers splattered her new running shoes, cooling her off in the already sweltering Texas heat.

  She was taking a few summer classes at Crestview Community College, eager to get her Associates Degree and get away from the “lovebirds,” as she’d taken to calling her mother and her new billionaire husband.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like Chambers. It was just that he never let a day go by that he didn’t either remind her where she’d come from or make her feel like she didn’t belong in the house. The thought of his severe face and peppered hair made Grace sprint even faster, until she had entered the long, winding drive that gave her another five minutes of regular jogging to cool down.

  She was bathed in sweat by the time she crept onto the back deck and stretched, catching her breath after the four miles she ran every morning. Slinking into the pool house, which was equal parts pool hall, man cave, and mother-in-law’s cottage, she took a quick shower before slipping into her bikini.

  The pool was warm and a perfect “reward” after her punishing morning run. Grace liked pushing herself: be it with her grades, her self-imposed reading list, or her workouts, but she enjoyed her rewards almost as much. The massive pool that dominated the back deck of Chambers’ mansion was just the ticket.

  She swam for half an hour before she stood from the pool, showering once more to get the chlorine out of her long, blond hair before reaching for her towel. Someone cleared their throat, and gasping, covering herself with the thick, thirsty towel, she jerked her head to find the source: Chambers Falcon, sipping coffee in one of the padded lounge chairs by the pool.

  “Shit!” she yelped, covering herself with the towel. “You scared me.”

  “You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” was all he said, hardly glancing up from the Wall Street Journal spread across his ample lap. “What if I was a predator?”

  Who says you aren’t? she thought to herself before continuing to dry off. “I dunno,” she sighed, slipping into her black cover up. “I figure it’s a pretty good neighborhood.”

  Chambers grunted and closed his paper, nodding toward the pool house. “You’ll need to start showering somewhere else from now on,” he said, pinning her with steely blue eyes. “That is, unless you want company.”

  Grace chuckled. “What, Mom kicked you out already?”

  He sighed, the most humorless man Grace had ever met. “My son is coming to sign some paperwork and will be staying with us for a while until everything is sorted out.”

  “Son?” Grace was genuinely surprised. “What… when did that happen?”

  He chuckled. “About twenty-one years ago,” Chambers said, perhaps not so humorless after all. “Want the particulars?”

  “Which wife?” she grunted, slumping down on a nearby chair, less from shock than the weariness of another restless night’s sleep and her pre-dawn workout.

  He paused, as if having to think. “Claudia,” he said. “The actress.”

  She nodded. “Why doesn’t he stay in the big house?” she asked. “There’s lots of room in there.”

  Chambers made a face like he’d just passed gas. “Let’s just say Steele and I aren’t exactly close.”

  “If you guys don’t get along, why don’t you spring for a hotel?”

  “I’ve already spent enough money on that boy, thank you very much Grace. And he’s still my son nonetheless.”

  He stood, ending the discussion, folding the paper under his arm and leaving his cup for the housekeeper to clean up later. Lights flickered on in the kitchen behind him. “Well, thanks for the warning,” she said to his back, but he didn’t pause until just before he walked back inside.

  “Here’s another one,” he said, turning to pin her with those cold, blue eyes once more. “Stay away from Steele. He’s nothing but trouble.” There was something about the way he said it that made Grace shiver, and she nodded in understanding.

  He turned and disappeared into the house, pausing just long enough to give Grace’s mother one of the smoldering, lingering kisses that made her mother so hot – and Grace so sick. “Jesus,” her mother said, fanning herself with the entertainment section from the local paper and looking back towards Grace. “The way that man kisses, Jesus…”

  Her mother’s accent dripped pure Texas honey, and it was one of the few real things about her. The boobs, the lashes, the hair color, the college degree, the “come hither” state – all fake. But the accent was real. She’d met Chambers at the nightclub where she worked. He was buying it – well, the property it sat on, anyway, and she just happened to be the bartender the night Chambers sat down to sign the contracts with the owner.

  Long after the paperwork had been signed and the owner shipped off, Chambers sat drinking. First at the bar, then at a booth, then in his penthouse suite. Grace’s Mom hadn’t left his side since.

  “Mom,” Grace groaned, wringing her blond ponytail out onto the wet pool deck.

  “Don’t ever settle for a man who makes you feel anything less than horny every time you kiss him, Grace.”

  “Ewwww, stop.” Grace shook her head. “The billions in his bank account probably help though, right ma?”

  While her mom’s accent was thick as maple syrup, Grace’s accent was on the thin side, but still there if you listened carefully enough. Her mother tut-tutted, but didn’t deny it. “How come you never told me about Chambers’ son?”

  Her mother looked up from her morning coffee and sighed. “Honestly, I’ve never met him either, Grace.”

  “Well… why didn’t you tell me he was staying here?”

  “I just found out myself.”

  “Is that how it’s going to be around here?” Grace asked, standing abruptly. “You finding out what Chambers wants when he’s good and ready?”

  “Honey,” said her mother, sighing softly, “I know you’re angry about this setup, about how quickly it happened, but I’m only trying to do what’s best for you. One day you’ll understand that.”

  The end of her spiel was drowned out by the sound of a throttling engine that raced and roared and then raced some more. “What the hell is that?” Grace asked.

  Her mother smirked and said, “I think you’re about to meet your stepbrother.”

  “Maybe some other time.” Grace disappeared into the pool
house to finish cleaning up and change before class.

  Chapter 2

  She fumed and stomped around the bathroom while drying her hair and slipping into her bra and panties. It wasn’t like the mansion wasn’t big enough or that her room wasn’t private enough, but with Chambers and her mother lurking around every nook and cranny, she just felt more relaxed in the pool house.

  Now she’d have to give it up to some…

  “You decent?” came a voice, dark and thick, before the bathroom door swung open.

  “Hell no!” she blurted as she kicked it shut again. Fuming, nostrils flaring, she slid quickly into the maroon skirt and gray blouse she’d picked out for school that morning and stomped out of the bathroom.

  There, standing in the living room, her damp bikini bottom dangling from one finger, was the most uncultured man Grace had ever seen. He was long and lean, skin glistening in the summer heat, bare arms dotted with tattoos of all shapes and sizes, sweaty tank top clinging to his lean frame, and a studded belt buckle keeping up his faded black jeans.

  “The fuck?” she asked, yanking the bathing suit from his lecherous clutches.

  “Sorry,” he replied, not meaning it for a second. His voice was soft and gentle, despite what his all-alpha, all the time body was screaming. “I was just making sure you weren’t an intruder.”

  “How do I know you’re not one?” she asked, peering back at him as they stood in the middle of the pool house. He had soft green eyes that smoldered above a three-day growth of whiskers. His hair was cut short, a faded, sleek brown to match his mood.

  “I live here,” he grunted. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Your stepsister, I suppose.”

  “Does my stepsister have a name?” he chuckled, slumping down against the pool table at his back as if he owned the place.

  “Grace,” she said. “And you are?”

  “Steele.” He extended his hand which she promptly ignored. “Steele Falcon.”

  She snorted, not having put the first and last name together earlier. “Sounds like a porn star name,” she clucked. “Or a rock band.”

  “Funny you should say that,” he said smirking. “I happen to be both.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” she said, wishing she’d chosen different insults to hurl at him. Now the image of Steele Falcon, naked and glistening, putting it to some dumb co-ed wouldn’t leave her mind.

  “Okay, okay,” he chuckled, and despite her reluctance Grace found herself admiring the soft, crooked smile that formed lazily across his handsome face. “I’m not a porn star, but I am in a rock band. It’s called Steele Falcon as well. Here, I’ll prove it to you.”

  As she slumped down onto the grey leather couch to finish getting ready, he whipped out a cell phone and pulled up a video. The phone started screeching as he tossed it to her, and catching it on the fly, she peered at the oversized screen to see a video of Falcon, indeed fronting a rock band, bellowing his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans.

  “Impressive,” she said, tossing the phone back to him. “Daddy must be proud.”

  He shook his head, and suddenly she regretted being so hard on him. Then again, he had broken into the bathroom while she was changing and fingered her bikini bottom! “Dad said you were a pistol.” He slide the phone back in his pocket. “He wasn’t kidding.”

  “That’s funny,” she said, pushing into her heels and slapping the tie off her wrist to curl her hair into a ponytail. “I never knew he noticed.”

  Steele shrugged. “Guess he noticed that much.”

  “Maybe I misread him then,” she said, watching Steele watching her.

  “No,” he grunted, lifting himself up with lean, strong arms so that he sat on the pool table behind them. “You pegged him right: a self-centered man who only notices what he wants, when he wants, as long as it suits him.”

  Grace smirked. Maybe she and her stepbrother had more in common than she thought. “Did I say all that?” she asked.

  “You don’t have to,” he replied. “It’s written all over your face.”

  She shrugged. “He’s not that bad.”

  “As long as you stay out of his way, right?”

  She nodded, perhaps a little too agreeably. “Is that hat why you stay scarce?” she asked. “I mean, you didn’t even come to your own dad’s wedding.”

  “I’ve been to plenty of his weddings,” he sighed. “Then again, if I’d known you were going to be there…”

  “Please,” she said, standing and reaching for her backpack.

  “I bet you looked real pretty in your bridesmaid dress,” he teased. Grace felt the blush creep into her cheeks.

  “I’d love to stay and hear more of your sexist commentary,” she huffed, “but I’ll be late for class.”

  “Hey,” he said, making her turn halfway out of the sliding glass doors. He looked around at her clothes scattered around the pool house. “All this shit needs to be out of here by tonight. Didn’t Dad tell you I’d be crashing her for a few weeks?”

  “A few weeks?” she asked. “I thought it would only be a few days.”

  Steele shrugged, lying back down on the pool table as if he might crash right there. “Yeah, well… plans change, little sis.”

  She grimaced and slammed the sliding glass door. “They sure do,” she huffed, walking the long way around to her car so she wouldn’t unleash on her mom or Chambers before class.

  Chapter 3

  As she leaned over her hood, having not a clue what was going on inside her silent engine, Grace secretly wished she’d worn something a little sexier to school than her maroon cords and peasant blouse. Despite being a girl, stranded on the side of the road, hood up, in rush hour traffic, not a single, solitary soul had stopped to see if she needed help.

  To make matters worse, she’d been texting her mom all day venting about Steele, so by the time she went to call a tow truck her cell had crapped out. Whatever was wrong with the engine, it wasn’t letting her use her car charger, so she was - to use a term Steele might be more comfortable with - positively fucked.

  Staring at the engine wasn’t helping, and passing motorists ignored her when she waved, but Grace didn’t know what else to do. That is, until she heard the throb and throttle of an engine roar, and her hopes soared. A motorcycle slowing down to… oh, shit!

  “Engine trouble?” Steele purred, looking sexier than ever in the late afternoon sun and his motorcycle gear.

  “Nope,” she sassed. The sight of him filled her with equal parts relief and frustration, and not just of the sexual sort. “I just didn’t feel like driving anymore, so I thought I’d pull over and chill out for awhile.”

  “Very funny,” he said, turning his motorcycle off and leaning it onto his kickstand before striding over to her. She’d been so surprised that morning, so frustrated and miffed, that she only taken in the “big ticket” items of his appearance: tall, dark, handsome… tattoos. Now that he stood smoldering by her side she could take in the finer points: the stubble on his chin, the burning brown eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and broad shoulders.

  He had changed since this morning. A faded black concert T-shirt had its sleeves cut off, and clinging to his lean, muscular frame were gray jeans, paired with black hi-top sneakers and the same shiny, studded belt from before.

  He ignored her and bent over the engine, peering briefly inside before shrugging.

  “Can you fix it?” she asked hopefully.

  “Hell no,” he said. “I don’t know anything about cars.”

  “But your bike…” she murmured, pointing to it as if he’d forgotten.

  “Bikes are bikes,” he chuckled, easing down to lean against her front bumper. “Cars are cars. And besides, I only ride the things. I’d just call a mechanic if my hog broke down.”

  “Some rescue this is,” she harrumphed, leaning next to him.

  “Did I call it a rescue?” he chuckled. “I saw some hot chick peering under her hood. I had no idea it would be my snooty stepsis
ter.”

  Her face flushed. “I’m not snooty,” she corrected. “I just… and I didn’t mean to be a dick in the pool house this morning, either.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “Did I call it an apology?” she asked with a snort. “Besides, you were being quite the dick yourself earlier.”

  He shrugged, the motion making his broad shoulder rub gently against hers. “Yeah, well… that wasn’t meant for you, actually.”

  “Who was it meant for?”

  Another shrug, another glance of his flesh against her own. “I get a little anxious whenever I have to deal with my father. I guess I was loaded for bear this morning, and since you were the first person I saw, well… You got the brunt of it.”

  “Gee thanks. But I know what you mean about your dad. He makes me anxious, too.”

  Steele grunted. Or maybe it was a chuckle. With his deep voice Grace still hadn’t quite figured out his verbal cues yet.

  “You really think I’m hot?” she teased him, admiring the way the blush rose quickly to those hollow cheeks.

  “Sure,” he said, nudging her for real this time. “You don’t?”

  “No,” she answered, more sharply than she’d intended. “And you’re just being nice, because I’m your stepsister.”

  “You honestly think I stopped because it was you?” he asked, complimenting her with another insult. “I stopped because all I saw was your ass looking fine in those tight jeans.”

  “They’re corduroys,” she corrected him, “and you’re gross, and I hate you. So… what are we going to do now?”

  “Call AAA,” he said.

  “My phone’s dead. Will you?”

  “I left it at home,” he said, not surprising her in the least. “I guess I’ll have to give you a ride, and we can call them from home.”

  “On that thing?” she asked, nodding toward the bike.

  “What? You’ve never ridden a hog before?”