HUGE X3: A MFMM Menage Stepbrother Romance (21 page)

5

CORY

I’m at
Hudson’s bar on Fourth. I arranged to meet Simons, my partner in all things law
enforcement, for a beer. It’s been a shitty week overall, and I need to blow
off some steam. I order us both a drink and we take a seat at the bar, watching
the sports news that’s playing on a flat-screen in the corner.

           
“Why the fuck did you pick this
place?” Simons asks.

It’s a
good question. The bar’s a dive, with sticky floors and a pervading smell of
the toilets wafting from the back. The men in here are definitely not our usual
crowd. I’m wearing a baseball cap pulled down low to avoid the risk of being
recognized. I’m sure I’ve arrested at least one of the guys in here.

           
“Wanted a change of scene.”

Simons
looks at me suspiciously. He knows I’m a creature of habit. In most towns, the
cops have their haunts. Ours is across town. The thing is, it does get a bit
tired when you constantly see the same people and hear the same shit, day in,
day out. That’s not the reason we’re here, though.

           
Mr. Douchebag, Jackson’s fucking
asshole father, is the reason we’re here. If I told Simons that, though, he’d
flip out. We’re off duty and I’ve got no business trying to hunt down perps out
of official time.

           
I glance over my shoulder, taking a
swig of cold beer, scanning the crowd. There’s no one that I can see who looks
like the idiot in the wedding picture.

           
“This place stinks like ass,” Simons
says wrinkling his nose.

I
snort. “Smells like the locker room at the station.”

“True.”

“Anyway,
we’ve got beer, we’ve got sports and we’ve almost got conversation.”

“Fuck
you, Carlisle.”

I
punch Simons on the shoulder affectionately. We’ve been friends since I started
the job and he’s a good guy. Honest to a fault, decent morals, straight as an
arrow. He’d hate what I’m intending to do.

“I
didn’t know you felt that way about me,” I joke and it’s his turn to snort.

“Trust
me, you’re nothing like my type.”

“Tits
too big for you?” I make my pecs jump up and down and he shakes his head in
disgust.

“Dude,
what the fuck?”

He’s
fighting not to laugh which makes me smile. At the station, the other cops are
always joking that we’re like brothers. I guess we take our work seriously in
the same way. There’s a time for jokes but not when you’re dealing with the
serious shit our job throws at us.

“I like
big
titties
.” Simons delivers that line totally
deadpan and I nearly snort beer through my nose.

“Fuck,
man. Who doesn’t?”

I get
a flash of the last amazing pair of tits I saw this week. That Allyson sure had
a fine rack on her, and she knew it, sticking those things out like they were
her armor against the world.

“I
stopped this woman for speeding this week,” I tell Simons. “She was driving
like she was being chased.”

“Yeah.”
He puts his empty bottle down and waves down the barman, indicating two more of
the same. “You book her?”

“Nah.
She was sorry so I let her off with a very stern warning.”

“Oh
yeah.” Simons narrows his eyes at me. I can almost hear the cogs of his
suspicious police brain in motion. “How sorry was she?”

“What
kind of fucking question is that?”

“Listen,
Carlisle. Before you get all indignant and shit, you’re the one who took the
conversation from big
titties
to a speeding woman, to
letting her off with a warning. I’m the one sitting here wondering what the
link is?”

I
shake my head and laugh. “She had really amazing…eyes.”

“Oh
yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“So it
was her eyes that caused you to let her off with a warning.”

This
whole conversation is one big joke but there’s something about what he says
that niggles me. We can joke about this shit. If he’d asked me straight out why
I let her off, I’d have probably said because she was so sassy and her little
walk along the line had made my dick hard. But now that I think about it, I
knew I wasn’t going to give her a ticket from the moment I looked into that
car. Her knuckles had been white she’d been gripping the steering wheel so
tightly and she had real fear in her eyes. The way she’d been driving, it was
as though she was trying to get away from something bad.

After
a few years on the job I can smell real fear, and I can tell who’s
bullshitting. Allyson might have been playing a little flirty game with me. She
tried to use her best assets, and she had plenty, to get me to let her off. But
it was what I saw before she turned on the bullshit that made me lenient.

“Yeah.
You know I’m a sucker for a pretty pair of…eyes!”

“Aren’t
we all.”

I grab
my fresh beer and take a swallow. There’s a rowdy shout in the corner of the
bar and I turn my head instinctively to see what’s going on. There’s a guy in
the corner who’s obviously telling some bullshit story in a drunkenly loud
voice, his arms flailing to emphasize. Even though all I can see is his back I
get a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. My dad calls it cop instinct.
Maybe he’s right. I turn on my stool, waiting to see if the obnoxious meathead
will turn around. As his hands come into view again, I can see his knuckles are
split.

Fucking
piece of shit.

Simons
seems to sense that something is going on with me because he stops talking
about how unprofessional I am, letting
titties
affect
my judgment. He follows my gaze to the guy I am convinced is Jackson’s
punch-happy father.

“What
you looking at, C?” he says quietly.

“That
loud mouth fuck over there. I think he was the perp in a domestic I dealt with
yesterday.

“Oh
yeah.” I know Simons is putting two and two together and coming up with the
perfect answer. “That's why we’re drinking beer in this shithole?”

“Maybe,”

“C,”
he says in a tone that warns me to stand down. “The wife, has she pressed
charges?”

“No.”

“Do
you think she will?”

I
shake my head.

“So
what? You’re planning to arrest him anyway. While you’re off duty?”

I
shake my head again.

“You
planning to warn him off then?”

“I
don’t know,” I say, anger surging to my fists. I imagine them making contact
with his ugly face, bone crunching against bone, flesh splitting under the
force of my righteous anger. I want to show him how his wife felt when he
decided to show her who was boss. I want to see him on his knees, begging for
mercy like I’m sure she did.

“You
got this under control?” Simons asks. I know he’s asking if I can rein in my
temper.

“Yeah,
man.” Douchebag is laughing at his own joke and a few of his buddies’ smile. He
turns to grab his beer from a tall table behind him and I finally get a look at
his ugly face.

It’s
definitely him.

I
slide off my stool and put my beer on the bar. “C…” Simons warns again.

“I’ve
got this,” I tell him, striding across the bar.

When I
get up behind Jackson’s dad I put my hand on the back of his neck. It’s a friendly
move and he looks back at me in surprise.

“Hey,”
I say, as though I’m greeting an old friend from high school. “Can I talk to
you for a minute? It’s about your wife.”

I see
his eyes flash at the mention of her. His shoulders go tense and I grip into his
flesh, needing him to understand who is in control of this situation.

“What
you talking about?” he slurs. He’s obviously well on his way to drunk and
disorderly.

“I
don’t think you want your friends to hear what I
gotta
say.”

His
eyes register and I see him clench his fist at his side. Whether he’s
remembering what he did or gearing up to punch me in the face, I have no idea.
I’m ready for him, whatever his intentions.

I
press the back of his neck and he reluctantly allows me to move him away from
his group of friends. Wasting no time, I bend down to deliver my message
directly into his ear.

“I
know what you like to do to your wife, you fucking piece of shit. I’ve seen the
inside of your house. I know what it looks like after one of your rampages. You
fucking hurt your wife or your son again and God help me, you’ll never use your
hands again. Do you understand me?”

He
doesn’t say anything for a few seconds as he takes in what I’ve just said. I
know he’s trying to work out who the fuck I am. For a moment, he looks like he
might spit out some sort of snide retort but I’m looming over him, breathing
menacingly, and he seems to find some sense in his bone-head.

“Nod
if you understand what I’m telling you.” He nods. “Understand this. I know
where you live. I know where you drink. If I need to track your ass down it
won’t take me longer than five minutes. I’m gonna be driving past that nice
little house you got every few days, and if I see a mark on your wife or your
son, your feet won’t touch the ground. Now get on back to your moron friends
and keep your hands to yourself.”

Jackson’s
dad looks like he might explode at any second, shoulders high and tight, fists
balled, but there’s no real courage in him. If I was smaller and meeker he
might have tried to best me, but I’m not, and he doesn’t.

“Fuck
you!” he mumbles as he walks away and I grab him by the arm.

“You
got something to say, big man?”

He
doesn’t look at me but pulls his arm away and retreats quietly this time.

I
watch him go, then return to my stool, picking up my beer and downing it in
one.

“Fuck
it, let’s get out of this shithole,” I say to Simons.

“I
thought you’d never ask.”

I
leave, feeling like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. If there is one
thing I can’t stand, it’s when the perps get the best of me.

6

ALLYSON

Angelo's looms ahead of me
on the right, for some reason looking foreboding instead of its usual welcoming
sight. The scent of Italian cooking wafts through my open window making my
stomach grumble. Nerves fight with extreme hunger as I pull into the parking
lot, snagging a spot towards the back of the restaurant. All the worry about
Drew, and meeting Jeff has stolen my appetite for most of the day. I hope once
the initial introductions are over I'll be able to eat a full portion of
Chicken Parmesan and some dessert. The cheesecake here is supposed to be
amazing.

I throw the car into park,
press the button to put the window up and get out of the car, straightening my
skirt and smoothing my blouse. I’ve tried hard to make the right impression
tonight, for mom. My nerves are buzzing so I take a deep breath and hold it, so
conscious of the deep and fast beating of my heart. I shouldn’t be this nervous
but I can’t help it. I don’t want to let Mom down by opening my big mouth and
saying something stupid. Drew’s criticisms loom large in my mind.

There’s no getting out of
it, though.

I press the button on my
key fob to lock the doors but before I can turn towards Angelo’s, a clean,
woodsy aroma fills my senses and the air surrounding me seems to get warmer.

"I hope you weren't
speeding."

Oh god, that voice. Low,
deep and smooth as chocolate with that hint of husk that had me almost
drooling. Though I can hear the grin in Officer Carlisle’s voice, I still
panic. Was he following me on my journey from campus? I don’t think I was
speeding excessively but I probably went over the limit a couple of times.

I spin around to see the
man who’s invaded my fantasies these last few days and kept me going in an
indirect way. The uniform is gone of course. Tonight Mr. Good Cop is wearing
black dress pants matched with a crisp white shirt that is open at the collar.
He's still grinning at me; the grin I’d so desperately wanted to see the other
night. There’s no girl with him and I think I see a spark of attraction
lighting his eyes. I can’t believe that I’d run into him, tonight of all
nights. There’s so much riding on this meal. First impressions count. It’s like
my ghosts are following me.

But it’s not all bad.
Officer Carlisle’s is just as sexy as he was in my fantasies and a whole lot
cockier it seems. "Guess you'll never know," I say, tossing my hair
over my shoulder and then gripping my purse to still my trembling hands. I
consider the uncomfortable truth that fear and arousal can often spark the same
physical reactions in me.

"Maybe not,” he says,
his voice getting closer as he leans in. “But I'm pretty good at
deducing."

I glance back at him and
he’s smiling knowingly. What’s he trying to say? That he knows that my speeding
the other night wasn’t a one off. Is he accusing me of being reckless? Or is it
something else? I eye him, trying to size up his meaning. He draws in his
bottom lip like he’s thinking about kissing and I almost do the same.

God. If I did that he’d
know I’m attracted to him. I’m so transparent.

A flash of my fantasy
chooses just that moment to surface – the part where he pushed his cock inside
me - and my cheeks immediately feel hot. Thank goodness he isn’t a mind reader.

I smile and take a step
closer, looking up at him challengingly. “I’m sorry you have such a bad opinion
of me, Officer. I promise I’m not usually such a bad girl.”

He leans in until our noses
are almost touching, holding my gaze. “I don’t think I believe you, Allyson.”

I smirk at him, not moving,
heart pounding as he seems to drift even closer. All it would take would be one
stumble and I’d finally get to feel those soft, full lips. “Is that your cop
instincts talking?”

He slowly shakes his head.
“I’m off duty.”

His soft brown eyes flash
with mischief and dark promise and I wish I could stay and play his game but I
can’t. I’m already five minutes late for dinner and mom is a stickler for
punctuality.

“I’m late,” I murmur,
drifting forward an inch as I sway on my heels. I catch the minty scent of his
breath and feel the warmth of his body heat.

“Now I definitely know you
were speeding.”

I snort and shake my head.
“Off duty, my ass,” I say, turning to make my way towards the restaurant. He
follows closely, and I can’t help swaying my hips as I walk. There’s no line tonight
and my outfit is a damn site demurer but I hope he likes it just the same.

At the entrance, I yank
open the door and pause. “You have a good evening Officer,” I say. He smiles,
holding the door open high above my head. The lights inside are dim and votive
candles flicker atmospherically. Mom waves from a booth near the back by the
fireplace so I make my way over, thinking about where in the restaurant Officer
Carlisle might be sitting, and hoping he will respect the fact that I’m here
for a private dinner. Mom and I hug tightly, and then she pulls back and holds
my face, kissing me affectionately.

“You look beautiful,” she
says, sounding so proud that I get a lump in my throat. At least she
appreciates the effort I’ve made. I glance across the table and notice the
handsome man sitting with her. He has dark blond hair streaked with white, kind
eyes and a wide smile.
 
First impressions
are good. Mom’s taste passes my standards.

Mom takes her seat at the
table and I turn to her date. "You must be Jeff. My mom hasn’t stopped
talking about you."

I grin when a blush stains
her cheeks. Jeff offers his hand and I shake it firmly.

"Great to finally meet
you, Allyson. She raves about you, too."

I smile at my mom, taking
in the way her happiness radiates from her. She’s sparkling in a way I haven’t
seen before, lit up from the inside. I watch as she inches closer to Jeff and
he covers her hand with his and squeezes. It’s something so small but
absolutely huge to me. Tiny hints of affection speak of a deep connection and
I’m suddenly so overwhelmed at their obvious love for each other. It’s probably
weird that I suddenly feel on the outside of her life now, where I’d always
been at the center. I’m a grown woman but that doesn’t seem to have stopped me
from needing my mom’s focus.

I sigh, feeling blue and so
damn guilty for it. I should be focusing on her happiness and what a handsome
couple they make but my insecurities are buzzing loudly in my mind. It takes a
moment for me to realize that one of our little party still hasn’t arrived.

"Where's your son? Is
he coming?" I ask Jeff.

A woodsy aroma fills my
senses again and I turn to find that Officer Carlisle has followed me across
the restaurant. He grins at me and I freeze, thinking of what a terrible
impression I will make on Captain Jeff when he knows that I was pulled over for
speeding. Officer Carlisle’s mouth opens and I brace myself, expecting him to
say something about my law-breaking ways. Maybe he wasn’t impressed by my
incessant flirting and sassing.

"I'm right here,"
he says and for a moment I’m confused. I blink slowly, trying to work out what
he means.

Mom stands up again and
pulls Officer Carlisle into an embrace as Jeff stands to give him an
affectionate pat on the back.

“It’s so great you could
make it, Cory,” my mom says and finally, the reality of the situation hits me
like a block of concrete.

Officer Carlisle isn’t here
to tell my mom and stepfather-to-be about my wayward behavior. He’s my new
smug-as-fuck stepbrother-to-be.

This moment has to go down
as one of the most embarrassing of my life. Heat rushes to my face and I hope
my mom doesn't notice. I plaster on a smile and turn to see him grinning at me,
his head cocked to one side. He thinks this is so funny, but I definitely do
not. I let the smile drop from my face and glare at him, hoping my wrathful
expression will warn him against using my ‘walk the line’ story against me. He
winks and I turn, suppressing a mortified groan as I slide into the seat
opposite Jeff. Cory takes the seat beside me.

"Great, then! Everyone
is here," Jeff says cheerfully, grabbing the menu up from the table.

"You two are going to
get on like a house on fire, I can tell." My mom is practically clapping
her hands with the excitement of the evening.

I suppress another groan.
If only she knew. The grin on Cory's face gets wider until he's full on
smiling. God, his smile is amazing; perfect teeth, full lips and one sexy
dimple that does ridiculous things to me. I worked so hard for his smile that
night on the road-side, and here he is giving it away for practically nothing.

I reach for my glass of
water, needing something to cool me down, and almost knock it over in my haste.
Cory moves a little closer to me, brushing my leg with his. He's still grinning
but he's looking at my mom and his dad now. Panic rushes through me that he'll
reveal that we've already met or worse, how.

"I've never eaten
here, what's good?" he asks picking up a menu.

A waitress comes by the
table and fills the water glasses then looks at us expectantly. Eager to get
the dinner over with I scan the menu quickly and order the chicken, too
distracted to even consider any other options. Not that I'll be able to eat
much of it anyway. My stomach is churning, made all the worse by Cory sitting
beside me. He drops a hand from the table and I think he’s dropped his napkin.
Then I feel his fingers on my leg, well my thigh to be exact. It’s such a shock
that I jump, putting my hand on top of his and holding it still.
 
Mom looks at me with concern.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Fine mom.” I squeeze
Cory’s fingers in warning. “It’s just been a long day and I'm hungry."

“Me too. So hungry.” Cory
rests the menu down and takes a drink, grinning to himself and I want to slap
his hand away and wipe the smile from his face, but I don’t. His hand feels
really big and really strong, his palm warm and dry. I think about the way they
felt against my skin when he frisked me and how I imagined him touching me in
my fantasy. I’m still gripping his hand so he hasn’t had a chance to do more
than rest it on my thigh, but the heat of it alone is enough to make my pussy
clench. For a terrible second, I imagine my mom dropping her fork on the floor
and seeing us sitting like a horny teenage couple with no public decency.

I’m totally still as
everyone confirms their orders and the waitress takes her time to note them
down. When she bustles away, Cory gives my leg a gentle squeeze and I
practically combust.

"Cory is a
policeman," Jeff says.

"Really? How
interesting." My voice sounds all breathy and overly enthusiastic and I
don’t want to let go of Cory’s hand but I can’t hold it for the rest of the
evening. My palm is starting to sweat and it’s pretty obvious, by the way I’ve
been gripping him in my almost-claw, that he needs to lay off. This isn’t the
time or the place. I let go of him and reach for my water again, expecting him
to move away on his own, but he doesn’t.

"It is interesting. I
meet all kinds of people on the job. Mostly just normal people who’ve stepped
over the line; speeders for example."

I cough on my water and
slam the glass back on the table sloshing its contents over the side. He’s
going to tell them. I can just tell.

"Went down the wrong
way?" mom asked.

"Yep," I gasp.
Cory chooses that moment to move his hand upward, ruffling my skirt and pulling
it higher on my leg. His fingers are firm but teasing, his little finger
brushes against the bare skin of my thigh and I can feel my cheeks getting hot.

"Can you tell us about
any interesting cases you've had?" Mom asks Cory. She’s using her fancy
voice, pulling out all the stops to impress.

Panic races through me
again.

"It’s all confidential
I’m afraid. Every day has something new, though, so I'm never bored."

"He's got the makings
of a great officer," Jeff beams. "He'll rise through the ranks fast,
I'm sure of it."

I glance over at Cory and
find, to my absolute shock, that he's blushing. Despite the attention on him,
he's still managing to multi-task as his hand strokes my thigh again dipping
down a little more between. I want to squirm in my seat and spread my legs
slightly to give him access to where I’m so hot and needy. My pussy throbs the
further up my thigh he goes. I shouldn’t want him to be doing what he’s doing.
This is an important dinner for all of us. It’s an opportunity to cement our
families before the wedding. I shouldn’t want him to, but I do, and maybe
because he won't slip his hand between my legs, my pussy throbs even harder. It
craves his touch, remembering the fantasy I conjured and how hard I came around
his imaginary cock.

I silently urge him to slip
his hand deep between my legs, even as I curse myself for being so damn weak.
He keeps tracing a finger up and down my thigh, getting closer to my hip each
time.

I look around the
restaurant for our server, praying the food is going to arrive soon. I can't
concentrate on anything my mom is saying. I think she's talking about the
wedding.