Meet The Stepbrothers: A STEPBROTHER MENAGE ROMANCE (2 page)

“I’m going to have fun,” I said.

He slid his hand up my side and back down again. I could smell his cologne.

“This is my first Christmas home in so long,” I said. “Home—I don’t know why I called it that. It’s definitely
not
home.”

“I know what you mean,” he said back to me. “By the end of it, I’m sure you’ll feel like you’re at home here.”

“I doubt it.”

“You will.”

“And so will you—both of us, at home, just like brother and sister,” I said.

“Bren—”

“Sorry.”

He leaned forward and placed his forehead against mine.

“Relax. It’s not so bad,” he said, smiling.

I wrapped my arms around him.

“I love you,” he said to me.

I looked up at him softly.

“I love you, too,” I said.

He leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. I looked down at his body. I slid my hands up his sides and under his shirt onto his soft skin. He took one of his hands and pushed my hair behind my ear and then placed his hand softly on my face. He leaned in again and kissed me deeply. I could feel his cold nose press into my nose. I slid my hands up higher onto the sides of his chest.

He turned me around slowly and he pushed me over onto the guest bed. He crawled on top of me.

“We probably have twenty minutes until dinner,” he said to me.

“That’s plenty of time,” I said back, smiling.

I pulled his shirt up over his head, revealing his bare chest. He went straight for the waist of my pants, pulling them straight down, past my ankles. He then began to undo his belt buckle. He pulled his pants down along with his boxers, revealing his long, semi-erect penis. I reached out and grabbed onto it, playfully. I began to jerk him off slowly. I could feel his cock begin to throb in my hand.

We heard someone walk by the doorway and we both froze. We stared at the closed door like deer staring at a speeding car. My hand remained clamped on his cock.

“Frank is home. Come get some dinner!” James’s mother yelled.

We heard footsteps move away from the door. James looked over at me, wide-eyed and smiled. I let go of his dick and he began to pull up his pants.

CHAPTER THREE
THE NEW BROTHERS

I sat quietly next to James at the dinner table. There were mountains of food on the table; roast beef, ham, mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, peas, carrots, peas and carrots, a pile of dinner rolls, and two different kinds of gravy. It was quite the feast for five people on a Tuesday.

Frank walked in from the kitchen holding two bottles of wine. His arms were large, filling out his tight t-shirt. His chest was stacked. I could see his perky nipples pushing against the tight fabric. He had very short brown hair.

“I got a red and a white. The red is a Merlot and the white is a Pinot Gris,” he said.

“I’ll have the Pinot Gris,” Patricia said, reaching out for it like a hungry African child.

Frank passed her the wine.

“Which one do you want?” James asked me.

“Whichever,” I said. I forced a smile.

“Pass the red this way, when you have a chance,” James said to his brother.

Frank walked around the table and handed the red wine to James. He planted his hand on James’s head and ruffled up his hair.

“It’s been too long, bro,” Frank said.

Bro
: A word reserved for the weight room at the gym, and the weekend nightclubs. Frank’s thick muscles were no longer of any meaningful purpose. Since college, Frank hadn’t played any sport on a professional level. He still hit the gym every day like clockwork, making sure his body was perfectly sculpted for Friday night at the club.

Frank sat down across from me.

“Everyone eat,” Patricia said, already spooning potatoes onto her plate.

“It’s Brenna, right?” Frank said.

“That’s right,” I said.

“Walt has told me lots about you,” Frank said to me.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah. The only time I’ve ever seen him smile was when he was talking about you,” he said. “Or when the Leafs beat the Sens.” Frank laughed.

I looked over at my father. His eyes darted away from me awkwardly.

“How do you like my brother?” Frank asked.

“He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and more,” I said, smiling.

Frank laughed, showing off his immaculately chiselled jawline.

“Yeah, yeah. You say that now,” he said, laughing.

“Where are you from, Brenna?” Patricia asked.

“Pat—” my father said.

“What?” Patricia said.

“You know damn well where she’s from.”

“I’m just starting conversation!” Patricia said. She looked back at me and smiled, awaiting the answer she already knew.

“I’m from California,” I said. “I was born in Oregon, but we moved south when I was really little.”

Frank reached across the table and grabbed the plate of ham. The muscles in his arms flexed as he reached. His veins were thick and dark.

“And that’s where you met James? In California?” Frank asked.

“That’s right,” I said.

“Can you pass the peas, please?” Patricia asked me.

I reached for the peas, but Frank beat me to them. My hand momentarily landed on his hand.

“I got it,” he said.

I pulled my hand back. His hand was so big, so strong.

“What do you do?” I asked Frank.

“I work as a welder,” he said.

“A welder,” I said. “Do you like it?”

“It’s great. It pays well and I get to work with good people,” he said.

“That’s good,”

“Frank played running back for his college football team until a few years ago,” James said to me. “He was pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Patricia said. “He was incredible! Had he stayed with it, he would have gone to The Olympics!”

“There is no football in The Olympics, ma,” Frank said to his mother, laughing.

“Well there should be,” she said as she stuffed her face with more food.

“It was just time for a change, you know?” Frank said to me. “What do you do?”

“I’m an interior decorator,” I said.

“She works for one of the biggest firms in California. They get a lot of high end clients,” James said.

“Oh really? Like who?” Frank asked.

“I just helped decorate part of Tom Cruise’s new house,” I said.

“Wow, is he as crazy as everyone says he is?” Frank asked.

“I never actually met him. He was out of town on a movie shoot,” I said.

“He’s a wacko!” Walter yelled. “He’s always preaching his stupid cult.”

“You know, I saw that HBO documentary on him,” Pat said. “About his weird religion. Do you know the absurd things they believe in? What a racket! There’s only one true religion—Christianity. Jesus Christ, The Lord and Savour.”

I forced a smile.

“Tell us about your church, Brenna,” Pat said.

“Well—I—um,” I thought.

Frank tried his best not to burst out laughing. His cheeks puffed up like a blowfish and his eyes began to water.

“What is so funny?” Pat asked.

“We go to a wonderful church,” James lied.

“That’s good. It’s very important to go to a good church—every Sunday,” Pat said.

Frank laughed again. “Yeah—very important. I’m sure your church is exceptional, bro,” he said to James.

“I hope you aren’t going to one of those Scientology churches,” Frank said.

“Dad—” Frank said.

“What? It’s a cult,” Walter said.

“Tom paid well, that’s all I know,” I said.

“Well, now you also know he’s part of a cult,” my father finished.

Frank’s face was red from laughter. I looked over at him. He was handsome. I could see the veins running up his muscular neck as he chuckled.

“You know, I could tell you some pretty embarrassing stories about James.”

I looked over at James again.

“What kind of stories?” I said, curious.

“There are no stories,” Frank said, embarrassed. “She already knows all the embarrassing ones.”

“What about the time when we were on vacation and we went to the pool, but you forgot your bathing suit so you wore mom’s bikini bottom,” Frank said, laughing.

I laughed.

“Really?” I said to James.

His face turned dark red.

“That’s enough,” James said.

“Or when you brought home that chick for Christmas, and she left because she was freaked out by your Hello Kitty collection,” Frank couldn’t stop laughing. “So you went and threw it all out.”

I looked over at James. He looked at me. His expression dropped, his eyes were full of guilt. He had told me he’s never been in a serious relationship.

“Or when—”

“—Frank—that’s enough,” James barked.

Frank stopped laughing. He could tell that he hit a sour spot. I just sat, silent.

There was a long painful silence.

“These potatoes are excellent, mom,” Frank said.

“Thank you, dear,” she replied.

I looked back at Frank. He was looking at me, slightly embarrassed. He looked into my eyes for a moment, and then smiled. I shyly looked down at my plate of food.

CHAPTER FOUR
AFTER DINNER

After dinner, James, Frank and I went down to the basement. A man cave had been set up, with couches, a big-screen television, and an old pool table. There was a bar in the corner, loaded with bottled that glowed with orange lamplight. The whole basement was wood panelled.

I sat down at the bar on a stool and James went to sit on the couch. Frank stepped behind the bar.

“What can I getcha?” he asked me.

I looked back at my boyfriend.

“What are you having?” I asked James.

“What kind of beer do they have?” James asked Frank.

Frank opened up the fridge. He pulled out a beer and tossed it to James.

“Just the one kind,” Frank said. “What can I whip up?” he asked me.

“What can you make?” I said.

“Anything.”

“How’s about a Black Russian?” I asked.

Frank turned and scanned the bottles.

“How’s about a beer?” he said, having no idea what my order was.

“How’s about vodka water?” I asked.

“I can do vodka water,” Frank said, picking up a bottle of vodka.

“You talk to Charlie at all?” James asked Frank.

“Yeah. You?” Frank responded.

“No,” James said. “Not since the split.”

“He got this great new job. That’s why he couldn’t make his flight yesterday.”

“A new job? Doing what?” James asked.

“He’s writing for Rolling Stone,” Frank said. “His first article is going to be in the January edition.”

“Wow,” James said as he cracked open his beer.

“What about you?” Frank said to James. “How’s your job going?”

“It’s going,” James replied. “It pays the bills, you know?”

“You still working at that, uh, insurance place?” Frank asked.

“Intact Insurance, yeah,” James replied.

“Cool,” Frank said.

There was a short silence.

“Yeah, I’m hoping to get promoted to claims manager by this time next year,” James said. “Go to salary, get a big pay bump.”

“What do you want to do in say, five years from now?” Frank asked.

“Well, hopefully by then I’ll be on the key staff—making pretty decent money,” James replied.

“Yeah, that sounds fine and all, but you don’t want to be doing this insurance gig for the rest of your life, right?”

James did not reply.

“You were the smartest kid in the school,” Frank continued.

“So what?” James said. “Are you saying I’m wasting my time working in insurance?”

“I just think you’re wasting your talent,” Frank replied. “You can do anything you want to.”

“What’s wrong with insurance?”

“I thought you wanted to be an architect. Isn’t that what you went to school for?”

“So what? Being a welder is such an amazing job?” James said. “You’re just living your dream?”

“Hey, man. I’m just making sure you’re doing what you want to do.”

“There are more important things in life than
a dream career
,” James said, looking away from his brother, clenching his beer tightly in hand.

“Like what?” Frank said.

“Like—lots of things. Relationships, money, stability.”

“Stability?”

“That’s right—Stability. Are you too cool for stability?” James asked.

Frank rolled his eyes. “You can never be
too cool
for stability.”

“What’s your problem?” James said.

“No problem—I just think that you’re better than this insurance gig you seem so happy settling with.”

“I’m not settling. And I’m not the one who gave up my football career to be some expendable labour,” James said. He scoffed. “A welder.”

“Hey,” Frank snapped. “I’d rather be some expendable labour than a redundant, suburban robot.”

“A redundant suburban robot? That’s the best comeback you can muster?” James said.

“Yeah. You’re going to spend the rest of your life driving back and forth from your cookie-cutter house, doing work that could be replaced tomorrow by a computer program. The only reason it isn’t is because it keeps you and millions of other suburban robots oblivious to the fact there are real things happening in the world.”

“Just mind your business and I’ll mind mine,” James barked.

There was a long, awkward silence. I tried to stay out of the argument by staring down at my coaster. I could feel the tension in the air.

“Right, I almost forgot about your vodka water,” Frank said, turning towards the sink.

“Thanks,” I said.

I looked over at James, who was staring at the empty wall in front of him.

“On the rocks?” Frank asked.

“Sure,” I said.