Authors: Alexia Stark
Content warning: this book contains pseudo incest, adult situations, explicit sex scenes and strong language. This book is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active persons are 18 or older.
This book was previously “Bad Brother.” Certain scenes have been revised and revamped. Please enjoy.
Copyright 2013 Alexia Stark
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any informational storage retrieval system without prior written permission of the publisher except in the brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Angela sat at the window, nibbling her lower lip.
Tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks as she watched her step-brother laugh with friends while he loaded up the moving van. Logan seemed so at ease with the change he was making, moving across town to be closer to work. As he clapped a hand on the shoulder of one of his friends, his eyes traveled up to her window. He nodded his head at her.
Stumbling back, she shook her head. She swore she wouldn’t be a part of it. Maybe if she didn’t acknowledge him leaving, he wouldn’t go. Instead, she threw herself down on her bed, sobbing into her pillow.
Who would be her rock? Who’d be there when she got a bad grade, when she was sick? When another boyfriend broke her heart? He understood things no one else did, he’d never been away before.
Her heart breaking, she let out a muffled scream into her pillow, smashing her fists into it.
The pain didn’t ease when her bed shifted under the weight of the only person she knew it could be.
“What’s all this, then, Angel?” His hand rubbed her lower back, the soft English accent coupled with his personal pet name for her bringing a fresh wave of agony.
“You can’t go!” She sat up, the words erupting from her in a near shout, breaking toward the end. Launching herself into his arms, she buried her face in the curve of his shoulder.
“You’re eighteen now, and I’m older than that,” he teased, before pressing a kiss to her head. “I promise it will be okay.” His h
ands gripped her shoulders, pushing her away from him. He stared into her eyes, his blue-green gaze darkening like a stormy day at sea.
He lowered his voice, the next words demanding.
“Now, you won’t cry about this anymore. Understood, Angel?”
She nodded, sniffing softly. He wiped her tears with the pads of his thumbs. Watching his stern face, she whispered, “Can I visit often?”
“Every day.” He smiled, planting a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose. “Now come give me a big hug.” He stood up, opening his arms to her.
She stood on her bed, leaping into his embrace. He held her, his arms tight around her back before he leaned down, setting her on her feet. “I have to get going, love. No tears.” He touched her cheek, his thumb trailing along her cheekbone, his eyes studying hers. “Be a good girl, now.”
She nodded, swallowing her tears. He left the room without a backward glance and she only hesitated a second before darting to her dresser. The front door slammed as she grabbed her keys and hurried down the stairs.
The truck started as she crossed the lawn, ignoring her mother’s screeching orders to go back to her room and her step-father’s bellowing at mom to shut the hell up and let “the girl be a girl.” Hearing none of it, she slid into the seat of her Mustang, her sweet sixteenth gift from Logan. Her mother had shit a brick when he’d given Angela the keys. She’d gone so far as to
threaten to sell it.
Logan had quietly told her that, “that wouldn’t be a good idea,” in a tone that had shut her mother up faster than anything Angela had ever seen.
The engine roared to life and she pulled out, doggedly following her brother’s moving truck. His buddy, driving Logan’s BMW, pulled out behind her, a terse smile on his lips as he followed.
When her brother slowed down, she popped the clutch and sped past him. Weaving in and out of traffic in the way he hated, she sped to his place in a flurry of autumn leaves. The long, winding driveway leading out to the ranch house cleared the anger from her mind.
How dare he? Why would he leave her there with the mother that hated her – since it was her fault she was a constant reminder of the father that had walked out and left them when she was three – and a step father who fought for her right to fuck up? There was never a second of peace in that house, and only he could ease her fury, her hatred. His hugs stopped her from the need to cut, to release the pain that threatened to overflow at any second. How could he betray her like that? Up and leave like her worthless father?
Tears stung in her eyes, but she forced them back. He’d told her not to cry. She’d made a habit to do as he said. He had a way about him, a quiet dominance that made people listen. She was no exception.
Skidding to a halt, she shut the engine down and pulled the keys out. Stepping out of the car, she found the key he’d slipped on her ring. With brisk steps, she hurried to his front door as the truck barreled up the drive.
The key slipped in despite her trembling hand as she let herself inside. He’d be pissed for her driving, for her stupidity, but she didn’t care. Her anger boiled, raged, ready to burst free. She’d let him have it, every ounce of her wrath.
The stomping of footsteps on the porch warned her they were following her into the main hallway. She slipped into the kitchen, thinking it a good place to let loose her fury. The door slammed and her brother’s ire-filled body blocked the doorway into the kitchen.
He didn’t speak, merely stared at her, his narrowed eyes blazing.
“What is wrong with you?” She burst out, unable to contain her anger.
He turned away from her. “Get out.” His orders echoed through the house, and she could hear the shocked muttering of his friends. “
!” he roared, and she flinched as the footfalls and buzz of voices faded.
With slow motions, he pivoted to face her again, his anger snapping from his eyes. His mouth bunched, as if ready to spit fire.
His voice, however, was dangerously low, oddly calm.
“I’ve told you not to drive like that.” The statement startled her.
“Who cares about that? What the fuck to you care? You left anyway!”
He crossed the distance between them before she could even draw a breath. His hand flashed up to the side and she flinched, sure it would connect with her cheek. When the expected pain didn’t come, she looked up at him.
“If you speak to me like that again, I will strike you.” His hand lowered, and she opened her mouth. Before she could stop herself, tears spilled down her cheeks. He gathered her into a hug, holding her tight as the tears flowed.
His fingers stroked her hair, his lips murmured words she couldn’t understand in her ear.
“I can’t live without you,” she whispered, sobs breaking the words.
“Oh, Angel, you’ll be fine.”
“No, I won’t. That place is hell. You’re the only thing that made it tolerable.” She shoved him back, glaring at him. “You ruined everything!” She spit the words, then walked past him out the door and down the hall.
Wrenching the door open, she pulled out her keys. She spun as his fingers bit into her arm.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“What do you care?”
His eyes narrowed at her words and she swallowed her fear. He snatched her keys from her hands and held them behind his back. “What did I ruin, exactly?” he asked, his low tone, once again, frightening her. She lifted her chin, indicating she’d gladly do battle.
“I wanted you to-“ The words died on her lips. She turned around, refusing to continue. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”
“Angel, what did I ruin?” His growl startled her, but she shook her head. Catching her breath, she spun, holding out her hand.
“Give me my keys. I’m leaving.”
“No.” He folded his arms. “You’re in no condition to drive.”
“Then drive me home. I’ll drive you back tomorrow.”
“No.” The harsh word infuriated her, but she bit her tongue. He continued, “So, tell me, what did I ruin?”
“You don’t give up, do you?” She exhaled sharply, the sound almost an angry laugh.
“That’s the third time I’ve asked.
make me ask again.” His face tightened with anger, and she rolled her eyes.
“Fine. I wanted you to be my first.” The words hung between them, but he didn’t bat an eyelash.
“I’m your brother.” The mater-of-fact statement stung, and she swallowed the quick burst of pain.
“Not by blood. And before today, I would have sworn you’d never hurt me.” Aware of how unfair her words were, she watched him, trying to keep her welling apology out of her eyes.
“You don’t get it. I would.” He turned and walked up the porch into the house, and she hesitated, before following. Disbelief flowed through her, and she grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around in the hall.
He spun, his hands biting into her shoulders. “I wasn’t kidding.” He glared down into her eyes, but she shook her head, her chest aching.
“You wouldn’t.” Tears filled her eyes, and she hated the way her voice broke.
He released her and ran a hand through his short dark hair. “Don’t test me. You’ve already pushed me too far.”
Once again, fury ripped through her. She shoved him back, shouting at him. “I’ve pushed you too far? You’re the one running away!”
He glared at her, his voice rising. “Because I can’t stand being around you. I want to
hands dropped from his shoulders as if he’d burned her. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. She backed up as he straightened, advancing on her in the confined space.
“I think you do.” He pressed both palms to the walls beside her, boxing her in, trapping her. He lowered his face until only inches separated them. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I want you to scream under me. I want you to beg. I want to see how much you can take before you come, before the pain overrides the pleasure. Why do you think I’ve trained you to listen to me all these years?”
His voice rose. “I’ve taught to you follow my orders, to do as I wish. I told you to stop cutting, and you stopped. I told you to get A’s. You did. I taught you to follow my orders without thought. Why do you think that is?”
Staring up at him, she opened her mouth, shock rendering her voice to a mute squeak.
He answered for her. “So that day, when you came to my bed, begging me to take you, I’d have control. You’d trust me wholly. Do you hate me now?”
Unable to speak, barely able to breathe, she stared into his eyes. She shook her head no, and his lips dropped to hers, punishing, hot, dangerous.
He released her, and her voice trembled as she whimpered, “How did you know?”
“That you’d come to my bed?” He smiled, his forehead pressed to hers. “I know you, Angel.” He kissed her again, his hunger deeper this time, and she shivered. His hands found hers, pressing them to the wall, holding her captive. She arched into him, thrusting her breasts against him.
“To be honest,” he murmured against her lips, “I didn’t expect you to take so long.”
“Would you have, before?”
“No, not before you were eighteen.” His hot breath rushed over her face, the sharp tang of mint driving her mad. She moaned, pressing to him, but he turned, walking away.
“I need to unload some things.”
“I can help.”
“Better you didn’t.” He threw her a glance over his shoulder, and she flinched a the raw hunger and power he exuded.
Ignoring him, she followed, questions bubbling up.
t think the Dom-Sub relationship actually involved hurting the other. It’s all about trust.” She threw the words at his back, a mixture of genuine curiosity and the need to rile him warring in her tone.
“True. But I’m also a fan of dealing pain for pleasure. For both myself and my partner. And if my sub is bad, I punish her.” His shoulders straightened as he hurried down the porch steps and to the back of the moving truck.
He opened the back. Over the next few hours they both unloaded the truck, working in silence. His hands found her hip, her shoulder, her ribs more often than necessary, and she savored every brush of his fingers.
Once the truck was empty, he turned to her. “I’ll run the truck back and catch a cab home. Then we’ll order pizza.”
“I’ll set up the TV and see if you’re net and cable are up already.”
“They should be. I had the guys come out and set it all up.” He placed a kiss on her forehead, a possessive palm pressed to her lower back. She threw her arms around his back.
“Do I have to go?” she asked, thinking about tomorrow when she’d go back to that house filled with hate and yelling.
“We’ll talk about it.” With that he sauntered to the truck and got in, pausing to wave at her as the engine roared to life. She watched the plumes of dust billowing behind the truck as he crunched over the gravel drive, disappearing behind the trees lining the road and turned toward the house.