Stepbrother Studs Mason: A Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

“I was drunk. You shouldn’t have let me keep talking.”

“I couldn’t shut you up. I was half afraid you’d wake up the servants, you were so fucking loud.” His hand trailed my arm and pressed on a spot, which made me wince.

Opening my eyes, I noted a bruise.

“You fought me. I couldn’t get you upstairs, so… I brought you here.”

“Just being a good big brother,” I said, infusing my voice with acid.

Ours had never been a close relationship. The moment my daddy had remarried Mona, his attention had been divided. So had his assets. Something I highly resented. Mona was a gold-digger—out for Daddy’s money. And Mason—he’d become the son my father never had, learning the business from the ground up, groomed to take my father’s place when he retired. Daddy’d never given me the same chance—never mind I’d never shown an ounce of interest.

And then Mason had done the unthinkable, after my daddy had promised him the world. He’d told him no thanks. That he’d make his own way. Daddy had insisted he continue to live in his apartments, because his mother would have worried. And Daddy had even given him grudging respect for refusing him.

I took the coffee cup and kept my gaze on the dark liquid. Anything but look at him. No doubt he was chalking up last night to yet another of my raves. It seemed all he had to do was enter my view and I turned into a lunatic. Add liquor and oh, God, I was so much worse.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Do you remember what we talked about—after you threw yourself at me?”

My jaw sagged and I drank another gulp. I’d done what?

“Liar. You’re just trying to embarrass me.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t lie, Angel. You know that. You pulled up your skirt and showed me that pretty waxed pussy and said—it’s broken. No fixing it. No orgasms there. Then you crawled over my lap, thighs spread, and offered me a fuck, just to prove it.”

Angry tears filled my eyes.

“Stop it. You know I was drunk. Why are you torturing me? Does it make you feel superior?”

“I’m not telling you this to hurt you, Angel.” Mason sighed. “I’ll repeat what I said to you last night, what you made me promise in return for pulling down your skirt and going to sleep.”

All I could do was shake my head, a tear sliding down my cheek as I waited to hear what humiliating thing I’d made him promise.

“You aren’t broken, Angel.”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear any more.” A sob worked its way up my throat. “You’ve had your laugh. Plenty of blackmail material. Just undo these cuffs.”

“As I explained last night…” he said, giving me another of those dark, brooding stares. “I’m not a drug dealer or whatever it is you think I am. I keep to myself because my… preferences… are my business. And I didn’t want my private life crossing Frank’s and embarrassing him. Baby, I’m a Dom. Do you know what that is?”

I began to nod, but under his steady glare, shook my head, admitting my ignorance. I knew the term, but only in a Fifty Shades kind of way, and I was sure he’d only laugh if I mentioned the book.

“I train women to be submissives. How to live in the lifestyle. I help a naturally submissive woman discover who she really is.”

“You spank them?”

“Sometimes, but that’s not what it’s really all about. And that’s as far as I got with you last night, because you asked me to spank you, to prove I was wrong about what I thought your problem might be…”

My mouth went dry, and I ducked my head again to sip my coffee before curiosity got the best of me. Once I had control again, I tilted my chin upward, giving him my bitchiest, iciest look. “What did you decide my problem was?”

“First, I want to you to admit your problem to me, out loud, no booze-induced confession. You, telling me, your stepbrother, what pushed you to the brink.”

“Oh, hell no.” I shook my head.

“But I already know, Angel. Why is it so hard?”

“I was drunk.”

“Something I would never permit in one of my subs. It’s why I refused your request last night. Now, tell me.” He waved a hand at my shackles. “We have all day. You can sit there with your bare pussy on my leather couch, but I won’t unlock your restraints. Not until you tell me.”

“Why? You must love this. Seeing me this way.”

“I love seeing my leather cuffs caressing your wrists. I’ll admit that much. But I don’t love the fear I see in your face, sweetheart. Tell me.”

A sob caught me by surprise. The way he’d talked about the cuffs, he sounded as though he thought they were beautiful. And I knew my makeup had to be ringing my eyes like a raccoon’s mask, and my hair was likely a knotted mess. I held back another sob, and lifted my chin higher.

“If I tell you, you’ll set me free?”

“I promise.”

Clearing my throat, I glanced away. Saying it out loud was unnerving enough without having to meet his knowing gaze.

“I’ve never had an orgasm,” I said, my voice sounding raw to my own ears. I held up my hands, silently asking for my freedom.

“First, I’ll tell you what I promised.” He reached out and tugged on the chain between my wrists, an action that reminded me I was completely at his mercy. Suddenly, a curl of arousal tightened my belly.

By his smile, he knew how he affected me. “I said I’d prove that you are very far from broken, that you only needed the right… care and loving… to find pleasure. That I could give that to you. If you placed your trust in me.”

My mouth opened to deliver a scathing refusal, but the hitch in my breath stifled the words. Mason wanted to give me love and care? Why that thought was so arousing, completely confused me.

“Think about it, Angel. You and me. Here. If you decide you want to let me teach you, all you have to do is knock on my door.” While I stared, he dug into his pocket and brought out a tiny key. He unlocked the cuffs, letting them slide off my wrists.

I shot up from the sofa, ignoring the throbbing pain building in my head.

“If you decide to take me up on my offer, be sure to wear these.” He handed me a paper bag, the top folded closed.

Without giving him a glance or a word, I grabbed the bag and stormed away.

* * * *

I managed to avoid him for days. It wasn’t hard. He had his own entrance to his apartment. I pretended illness and let the staff bring my meals. When Daddy came to check on me, I made sure to ruffle my hair to make it look as though I hadn’t stirred from my bed.

“Do you need to see the doctor?” he asked, his finger under my chin, tilting my head so he could study my face.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just tired, Daddy.”

“Well, you rest. Mona and I are headed to the Hamptons for the week. I hate leaving you this way.”

I leaned toward him and hugged his large frame. “I love you, Daddy.”

A kiss landed on my hair. A sigh sifted the hair beside my cheek. “I want you happy, Angel-mine.”

I didn’t respond, because he would have known anything I said to reassure him would be a lie. Pasting on a smile, I leaned back. “Have fun. Be sure to make Mona swallow her Dramamine before you take her out in the yacht.”

We shared a smile.

“Mason will be around.” His gaze sharpened. “I’ve already spoken to him. He’ll check in to make sure you’re okay.”

And to make sure I didn’t end up in jail, I was sure.

When he left, I flounced onto my bed. Mason and I would be alone in this big old house. The thought was... disturbing. Would he be entertaining company? If I swept into his room, would he have some pretty slut bent over one of his padded benches with her ass in the air, ready to be
trained
?

Staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help the images that filled my mind. I remembered how good it had felt when Heather pinched my nipples and when I’d awoken with leather banding my wrists. That tug he’d given the chain connecting them had caused a thrill way out of proportion with the action.

Could he be right?

Was it possible he could give me what no other man had ever managed? What I’d never managed with anything less than a turbo-drive vibrator?

Hours passed. Darkness crept in to fill the corners of the room. I lay nude, my fingers playing in my cunt, slightly aroused, but only because I was thinking about what might await me two floors below. My gaze went to the paper bag I’d left on my dresser, the top crumpled closed because I’d opened and closed it so many times to stare at the items he’d given me.

Did I dare?

Before I could talk myself out of it, I showered and shaved, leaving my body clean except for a light application of my favorite lotion. Then I tore open the bag and put on the things he’d insisted I wear, sliding on a silky robe before padding barefoot through the house, down the stairs, out the side door and through the garden to the back of the house. The well-lit entrance had a camera. I flipped back my hair and raised my face to it as I rapped the brass ring in the bull’s nose affixed to his door.

I stood with my heart thudding, my face heating, my body so restless my thighs rubbed. But the door never opened.

Frowning, I reached for the ring again and gave the door a harder knock. The look I gave the camera could have peeled paint, but still, he left me waiting. Or was he gone? Had I angsted over this for nothing?

The intercom squawked. “Go away, Angeline.”

But I was there, ready to explore. I needed
something
. If he knew a way to break open my internal restraints, I couldn’t let him turn me away. Pride be damned. I unfisted my hand and took the key to the restraints and slid it through the old mail slot on the door, listening as the key tinkled on the tile flooring inside.

Then leaning toward the speaker, I managed to say the words, “Fix me. Please, Mason.”

After another minute, the door creaked open.

I met Mason’s steady stare. For a long moment, neither of us moved, and then he stood back, opening the door wider. And although he didn’t invite me with a word or gesture, I stepped over the threshold.

“First,” he said, holding up a hand to halt me. “Your safe word is suicide.”

“Safe word... suicide?” I nodded, gulping. I hated the word. Hated the fact he’d seen me at my lowest.

He turned to walk away. Without looking back, he gestured to the coat rack. “Leave your robe there.”

Somehow, I didn’t feel naked. Not with a leash hanging from the side of the leather collar around my neck, and wrist and ankle restraints snug against my skin. I followed, walking with my head tilted high, a flush heating my cheeks—not from embarrassment but from a simmering excitement.

He wore a snug gray t-shirt and jeans. His feet were bare as he padded ahead of me, down the hallway to his special room. I couldn’t help but ogle his tall, well-muscled frame. Sure, I’d noticed plenty of times just how handsome he was. Chiseled features, dark, brooding eyes...

But he was stepbrother. I wasn’t supposed to think any of that.

Now I shivered at the thought of his touching me... intimately. When he’d first come to our home, I’d had a huge crush on him, something he’d squashed quickly with his rude refusal to let me dog his steps. He’d been selfish about his privacy, even as a teenager. As a man, he’d become this mysterious person who joined us on occasion for dinner and all but ignored me—especially when I was misbehaving, which was most of the time.

He’d give me a searing look and I’d pout right back. Had we been flirting, even then?

The realization made my breath catch.

He paused beside a sleek, padded bench—meant for spanking, I knew, because I’d googled every piece of furniture I remembered from my last visit.

His long pause was its own command. I took a deep breath and knelt on the padded rest and slowly folded my body over the bench. Still silent, he moved around me, connecting slender chains to my wrist restraints, then coming behind me to arrange my knees, spreading them, before latching my ankle restraints. He removed the leash and set it on the cabinet beneath his implements, then reached for a flogger.

Just the sight of him whipping the flanges against his open palm made my juices flow.

He returned and squatted beside me, his gaze locking with mine.

“I’m going to warm your ass, Angel. Give you what you deserve. If at any point it becomes too much, use your safe word and I’ll stop. If you at any point you change your mind about being here, with me, use the word ‘freedom.’ I’ll release you and let you go without another word—but don’t ever come back here. Do you understand?”

My eyes widened, but I nodded. He reached out and caressed my lower lip with his thumb. “You can trust me, Angel. I won’t ever hurt you. Not too much, anyway. But I need to gauge how much punishment you can take.”

Again, I nodded, knowing he had to be reading some of the emotions swirling inside me in my eyes. Yes, there was trepidation, but also hope. And strangely, I did trust him. Sure, he was an asshat sometimes, but…he was my stepbrother. He was family. I knew he wasn’t going to really hurt me.

Not too much, anyway…

When he stood and moved behind me, I felt warmth rush across my cheeks and breasts. He was staring at my pussy and ass. Did he like what he saw? Did he like that I’d shaved for him?