Dear Stepbrother, I Want You Read online

  Dear Stepbrother, I Want You

  Madison Faye

  Contents

  Free Books Offer

  Dear Stepbrother, I Want You

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Featured Content

  Temping Daddy’s Boss

  Legal

  Sugar & Spice

  Also by Madison Faye

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 Madison Faye

  Cover: Coverlüv

  Photography: Sara Eirew

  Models: Gus Smyrnios & Melynda Schlotthauber

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  Dear Stepbrother, I Want You

  Gorgeous, incendiary, tempting as original sin, and totally off limits.

  He’s rough, dominant, and hot as hell on wheels. Channing Hensley blew into my life like a firestorm, and I’ve been in love and lust with him since the minute I laid eyes on him.

  All in secret, of course.

  He doesn’t know. No one can know the things I dream of him doing to me. No one can know that I – the picture-perfect sweet little good girl – want him to be my first.

  So I hid it away instead, in a letter, where I poured out my heart and my deepest darkest fantasies to the man with the body made for reckless choices, and the piercing green eyes that dare you to make them. The man with the dark past and the fierce gaze that lingers on me in a way that takes my breath away.

  He’s six years older than me. He works for my family’s law firm.

  He’s totally wrong, utterly inappropriate, and completely irresistible.

  Channing Hensley is my stepbrother.

  And I want him.

  Filthy, scandalous, and so sugary sweet your teeth will hurt. This one’s a heaping dose of wrong in the right kind of way ;). If an older, dominant, obsessed alpha claiming his untouched heroine sounds like your cup of tea (oh, you know it is), then you should probably dive right in. Safe, no cheating, and a HEA guaranteed.

  No one is related in this story.

  1

  Everly

  It’s now or never.

  My pulse quickened as I poked my head around the corner of the building, my eyes darting. Quickly scanning the parking lot and the field-hockey pitch, I ducked through the doors and crouched in the shadow of the brick school building. I could feel the brisk fall air tease up my thighs to the bare skin beneath my skirt, and I grinned, shivering and thinking of the panties I'd made a point of not wearing that day.

  I moved quickly, ducking behind the bushes by the doors to the gym and then sneaking along the edge of the building until I could reach the road. Out of immediate sight of the school, I walked briskly towards the convenience store on the corner, where the cab I'd previously arranged for to take me downtown was waiting. My nerves jangling, I smoothed my skirt over my bare legs and swung into the back seat.

  No turning back now.

  Skipping out of summer school was one thing. I mean, it was summer school, but still, you had to be there. Being caught sneaking away would have been bad, and definitely would have ruined my plans.

  But taking a cab downtown, alone, for the reasons I was? Well, that was another story altogether.

  I thought of him as we drove, letting my mind wander to dirty, naughty places. I chewed at my lips, sucking them between my teeth. A flush crept up my cheeks as I thought about what I’d seen just two days before. I thought about seeing him like that — him who I’d wanted forever. Him who’d turned from a first crush into a first lust. Him who made my skin tingle and my pussy throb — who made my hormones go on a complete rampage through my body no matter what I did to try and stop them.

  Because the truth was, when it came to Channing Hensley, I was a hopeless mess. One fierce look of those piercing green eyes, or one gorgeous smile across that firm, defined jaw, or one word from those perfect lips, and I was a puddle. It’d been like that since the second he’d entered my world, and it’d been maddening.

  It’s true what they say about the forbidden fruit, and about temptation. And Channing was the definition of temptation — living, walking, sexy as sin forbidden fruit. He was the untouchable personified. And yet, as time had gone on, all of these things had started to matter less and less to me. I still knew it was wrong, to think the thoughts I was thinking about him. But I just didn’t care anymore. Or couldn’t care anymore.

  And today, I was finally going to do what I’d been too chicken to do since the day I’d met him.

  It’d started with the letter I never gave him. But pouring out all my filthy fantasies and hidden desires across a page had turned the fire blazing inside of me into a full-fledged explosion, and there was no stopping it now.

  So today, I was going to offer myself to Channing. I was going to march right into his office, look him right in the eye, and tell him it was all for him. Because I was done tiptoeing around. I was done being a scaredy-cat dork, and clueless when it came to men. And I knew that day, I’d be done being a virgin. Not after Channing got through with me.

  Channing, who was six years older than my eighteen. Channing who worked for my father. Channing who’s mother had just married my father about six months before.

  Yeah.

  Channing who was my stepbrother.

  And I wanted him.

  2

  Everly

  It'd started like a normal summer day. Amy and Tara were over, and we were all out by the pool just hanging out, trading gossip, leafing through magazines, and generally ignoring the very real reality that in a month, we'd be flung across the country from each other to do the very adult thing of going to college and moving on with our lives.

  My two friends had it easier, of course. For one, they weren’t stuck taking summer classes that their parents forced them to take like my father did to me. And for two, neither of them had the constant, pulse-quickening, panty-wetting, and completely wrong infatuation with their freaking stepbrother like I did. Neither of them even had step-siblings.

  Tara and Amy were under the solar umbrella, but I’d been sitting out in a reclined chair baking, and it was freaking hot out. So eventually, I’d gotten up and volunteered to grab water bottles from the fridge inside. I skipped around the side of my father and stepmother’s huge house in my favorite lime-green bikini to the garden door next to garage. But just as my hand had touched the warm knob, I’d frozen as my chest tightened.

  He was here.

  Channing’s red and black Charger was parked in the driveway, the motor still ticking like some slumbering beast. I mean, God, of course a man as insanely panty-meltingly hot as Channing drove a car that was basically sex on wheels. And he was at the house.

  Channing lived a few miles away closer to downtown, in one of those new high-rise condos. His building had been re-doing the gym for the last month or so though, so Channing had taken to coming to our house to use the home gym my dad had here. I shivered, biting my lip as I turned back to open the door to the house and slipped inside.

  “Channing?”

  Moments alone with him were rare. I mean, it’s not like he lived at our house, and most of the time when he was ove
r, my dad or his mom were there too. But there’d been a few times — some good, some bad.

  The good had been not long after the wedding. It was midnight, or two in the morning or something, and I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the horror movie I’d tried to watch by myself like a total idiot, or maybe there was just a lot on my mind with my dad now being remarried. Whatever it was though, I’d been heading downstairs for some water from the kitchen when I’d heard it.

  At first, I’d been scared. The sounds were primal, and rough — growls, and grunts, almost like someone was in a fight. I’d grabbed one of my dad’s golf clubs that’d been leaning against the wall of the mudroom and headed down to the lower level, where the gym was. And that’s when I’d seen him.

  Channing had been shirtless, beautiful, and fierce. He had boxing gloves on, and as he ducked and weaved and shadow-boxed with the heavy-bag hanging on a chain from the ceiling, my breath had caught. His muscles rippled, his jaw clenched tight, and he growled like a wild beast as he’d hit the thing again and again, sweat pouring down his perfect body.

  He hadn’t seen me that time, and thank God. He hadn’t seen my flushed face, and parted lips, and wild, heated eyes. He hadn’t seen the way my nipples had hardened to points under my thin t-shirt, or the way my legs had squeezed together as the slick heat between them probably left a stain on my pajama pants.

  The second time we’d been alone wasn’t quite as nice. Not by a fucking mile. He’d seen me that time, alright. I just wished he hadn’t. Or at least, I think I wished he hadn’t.

  I’d never been a drinker or a much of partier in school, but for whatever reason, when Amy threw a graduation party on a weekend where her parents were out of town, I’d gone wild. I don’t even remember what I drank for my first drink, or the second, or the I’m guessing one-hundred after that, because it’s all fuzzy. I had a brief memory of some guy I’d never talked to offering to drive me home, and I have another horrible flash of trying to tell him that I did not want to kiss him when he tried in my driveway.

  But the memory after that is pretty clear.

  Channing had almost torn the guy’s car door off its hinges as he’d flung it open. I remembered gasping as strong, powerful arms and hands had slid under me, scooping me up and pulling me away from the creep. He’d sat me down, picked up a baseball bat, and whirled back to the guy in the car.

  “You. Out. Right the fuck now.”

  …For being a fucking creep, the guy at least had the smarts to jam the car into drive and peel out as fast as possible. Channing still took out one of his windows and a tail light though.

  “Channing, I—”

  “Are you alright?”

  His rough, deep, velvety voice had purred through me, setting my freaking skin on fire even before he’d wrapped his arms around me. And when he did that? Yeah, forget butterflies. My stomach had rocket ships.

  “Thank you,” I’d mumbled, looking up into his eyes in the dark of the driveway and just melting under his gaze. I’d gotten lost in those eyes, and the insane, totally wrong, totally inappropriate thoughts I’d been having about him had all come rushing to the surface. I’m pretty sure I’d leaned forward with every insane intention of kissing him, when suddenly, everything I’d drank that night decide to come back and say hello.

  I’d wanted to die. First, he’d been my knight in shining armor, and after that, he was holding my hair in the hedges next to my dad’s house while I puked all over the place.

  “There we go, kiddo,” he’d murmured, stroking my back as I emptied my stomach into the hydrangeas. “Just let it all out. What the hell were you drinking?”

  “Don’t call me that,” I mumbled.

  “What, kiddo?” Channing had grinned, making my knees weak all over again.

  I’d shaken my head. “Can you just call me Everly?”

  He’d held my gaze, his hand still stroking the small of my back.

  “And I think it was the Everclear,” I mumbled, turning to dry heave at the thought of the high-proof booze that was notorious for making teens wasted.

  Channing had helped me into the house. He’d made sure my dad didn’t wake up. He’d washed my face with a washcloth, carried me into bed as the dizziness took over, gave me a glass of water, and tucked me in. He didn’t call me kiddo after that night.

  …He swapped to “Everclear” instead.

  There in the house that summer afternoon, I knew we were alone again. Tara and Amy were outside, my dad was golfing, and Catherine was at a happy hour somewhere. I tiptoed to the door to the lower level, listening for the sounds of him working out, but the lights were off and it was quiet.

  If frowned, my fingers twisting together as I’d headed back through the house. And then, I’d heard it.

  I froze, my brow furrowing in confusion. It sounded just like the sound of Channing working out, but I knew the basement had been empty. The sound came again, and my head snapped to look up the stairs to the second floor. The sound had come from my room, upstairs at the back of the house facing the pool in the backyard.

  Curious, I’d nervously tiptoed, quietly on my bare soles up the stairs and then down the hall to my bedroom door. I was trying to figure out why the hell he’d be in my room, but as I got closer, I heard the noise again — a hard grunt it sounded like, coming from behind my half-closed door.

  I’d swallowed thickly, moved closer, peered through the gap between the half-closed door and the frame, and almost shrieked.

  Standing in my bedroom, half-hidden behind the curtains to my window, stood my stepbrother, slowly fisting his huge cock as he stared out the window.

  My eyes went wide in their sockets, and I had to put my hand to my mouth to physically stifle a gasp. My mind reeling and my eyes glued to him, I couldn't help but stare as he slowly pumped his hand up and down the pulsing shaft of his enormous dick. He was staring out the window towards the pool, quietly groaning as he jerked his cock. And at first, a big spike of green jealousy went through my guy, thinking about my two friends out there in their bikinis. I mean, that’s who Channing had been watching, obviously, right?

  But slowly, something dawned on me. Outside, my two friends had been sitting at the round table on the patio, under the big sun umbrella. There was no way you could’ve seen them from my bedroom. Which meant…

  The realization hit me like a shock to the heart: Channing had been watching me.

  My heart racing, I bit at my lower lip as I peered through the crack in the door, staring hard at the thick cock jutting out from his pants. As I looked, I suddenly noticed that there was something wrapped around it that he was stroking over his cock as he pulled at it. My eyes widened as I realized they were a pair of panties, and then I almost gasped out-loud again as I realized something else; there were two women who lived in this house, and I was pretty sure that I was the only one of them who owned a pair of red lacy thong panties that she kept hidden away in her underwear drawer.

  …Channing, my stepbrother, was jerking his big cock with my panties, while watching me. I felt a heated jolt run through me as I bit down on my hand, feeling my pulse rage in my ears as I watched him.

  “Everly! Did you get those waters!”

  I’d practically jumped out of my skin as Tara had yelled up the stairs. I’d bolted, scurrying as fast and as quietly as I could to the stairs and flying down them two at a time.

  I'd stayed awake long into the night that evening, thinking about exactly what I'd witnessed and trying to wrap my head around having seen my stepbrother jerking his cock like that. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep until finally, I ended up pulling the red lacy thong out of my drawer and rubbing it against my dripping wet pussy until I came, before I fell asleep.

  I’d wanted him from the moment I met him.

  I’d loved him since the night he’d held my hair in the driveway.

  And now, today, I was going to do something about it.

  3

  Channing

  The meeting droned o
n — my whiny, sniveling client lamenting his state of affairs. Like I had any sympathy for him. I mean the man had a great family — cute, smart kids who adored him, and a gorgeous, sexy wife who loved him. And he’d thrown the whole thing away to chase after his secretary and their mutual love of cocaine.

  What a fucking idiot.

  I wanted to scream at him, to yank him up over the table by his fucking tie and tell him what a complete piece of shit he was. I wanted to tell him all about my family — the vapid, mostly drunk, social climber of a mom and the string of truly terrible boyfriends she’d had along the way. I wanted to tell him about learning to cook for myself at the age of seven because mom wasn’t going to. Or about learning how to fight when I was eight because her boyfriend at the time wanted to slap me around.

  This guy had it great, and he’d let his own fucking ego burn the whole thing to the ground.

  “I mean, fuck her, right? She was supposed to be out of town. She was supposed to be at her sister’s for Christ’s sake! Why the fuck did she come home early?”

  “Intent for entrapment,” Johnson, one of Ken’s other shit-bag lawyers piped up. The rest of the room laughed.

  Fuck these people.

  The job at Price and Houghton had been too lucrative to say no to. Insane money, my own office, and enough big-time corporate cases to keep my name relevant, the headlines flowing, and my bank account full — all good things for a young lawyer. ‘Course, there were a few things I didn’t know when I took the job. One, that Price and Houghton made their fucking bread and butter defending pieces of shit like whatshisname here today. More than that, they excelled at not only defending these corporate crooks, but going after the people they’d hurt in the first place. Hell, they were already talking strategy on defaming this guy’s poor wife so he could screw her out the money that should have been hers.