My Street Fighting Stepbrother - Book 1 (Stepbrother Erotic Romance)

My Street Fighting Stepbrother, Book
1

Erotic Short Stories

By

Laila Cole

Follow me on Twitter
@MsLailaCole

Copyright 2015 by Laila
Cole

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s
imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
businesses or establishments, events, or locales, is entirely
coincidental.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Redmond, Oregon - Saturday, May
16
^th
,
2009

I cradled Jackson in my arms as he cried desperately
for his mother. I pacified him with a bottle of formula but it
would never replace his mother’s breast. I wished Janice would come
back but then again, what she’d done to my stepbrother Drake
Douglas was unforgivable. In all honesty if I saw the bitch again
I’d have smacked her across the face, and she’d have deserved
it.

Not wanting to be a mother was one thing, and I
could understand that, but running off in the middle of the night
with the same god damn banker that had shut down the lumber mill in
Redmond, Oregon where Drake worked? Well that was another thing
entirely. All she ever cared about was money, and when Drake’s well
tapped out she just dug another hole, this one much deeper than the
last.

While she was off living her Sex and the City
fantasy, Drake was left in Oregon, caught in the grips of one of
the worst recessions ever known. Bills piled up, tensions ran high,
and work, well, work didn’t exist.

The entirety of it all crushed Drake like an old
aluminum can; he’d always placed value in being a provider and a
good, faithful husband. At the age of 28 he’d accomplished far more
than most ever would. But all of those accomplishments came
crashing down when she left him. I watched him crawl deeper into a
hole, grasping at the eroding soil walls for a way out. It broke my
goddamn heart.

I guess I was lucky in a sense that I was in my
sophomore year at Oregon State University at Bend, and living on
loans. I didn’t have to worry much about money; those worries were
three years into the future, and the future wasn’t today.

Last night Drake called me and asked if I could
watch Jackson. He’d caught on odd job at the Whispering Wind
Tavern. I was excited to see Jackson and help out; I loved his cute
little smile and couldn’t wait to hold him. Drake offered me money,
but I refused. I was excited for him; I hoped that he’d finally get
the break he needed to crawl out of his rut.

I continued rocking Jackson in my arms. He’d been
fussy all night. I finally got him to sleep and placed him in his
crib, allowing myself to lie on the couch and relax. Drake said
he’d be home at 10:00 PM, but it was 11:30 PM and the second hand
kept ticking with him nowhere to be found.

I dozed off a bit when I was startled by the sound
of the doorknob. “Drake? Is that you?” I said, the lights too dim
to see his face. One could never be too cautious given the rampant
increase in home invasions over the last two years due to the state
of the economy.

“Hey Beth. I’m sorry I’m late. They needed me for
longer than I expected. How’s Jackson?” he said, his voice muffled
like he’d just been to the dentist.

“He’s been fussy, but he’s fast asleep in his crib
now.” I stood up to go for the light switch when Drake stopped
me.

“No!” he said. “Don’t touch it.”

I grew worried. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. Stop pestering me with questions.” He was
tenser than usual. He walked down the hallway toward the nursery
where Jackson slept.

I followed him, sensing that something wasn’t quite
right.

He dug his hands into the crib and grasped his son,
rocking him in his arms. As he turned around the moonlight
filtering through the blinds in the nursery lit his face. It was
swollen and bruised, his right eye sealed shut. “Oh my god, what
the hell happened to you?”

I went to touch his face but he pulled away into the
darkness as he cradled his son. “It’s nothing. There was a brawl at
the bar. When I left a bunch of asshole bikers jumped me. That’s
why I’m running late. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

With Jackson comforted he placed him back in his
crib and tried to act normal, like his face wasn’t swollen to twice
its normal size. “Hey Beth, how much do I owe you for sitting?”

“It’s ok Drake, I told you not to worry about
it.”

“Come on Beth, that ain’t right. At least take money
for gas, it’s almost 40 miles round trip.”

I started to get annoyed. “Dammit Drake, I told you
not to worry about it! Now come here.”

He pulled further back. “No, Beth. I promise you,
you don’t want to see me like this.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok. I do. I
want to help you.”

He sighed a bit and reached over to the wall, with
his hand guarding the light switch. “You’ve got to promise me you
won’t freak out. I know you.”

“I promise I wont.”

He flipped the light switch and my eyes doubled in
size when I saw his face. His right eye was the size of a tennis
ball and sealed up tight, his lips were like two balloons ready to
burst with blood, and dark blue bruises covered the rest of his
face. Not a single shred of normal flesh remained. His white muscle
shirt was covered in droplets of blood. I could hardly recognize
him. Gone was his strong jawline and his near perfect smile. His
green eyes were filled with blood, his black hair matted to his
face. I noticed that as he moved he nursed his side. “Take of your
shirt; I need to see what they’ve done to you.”

He groaned as he lifted his arms above his head, he
couldn’t do it himself. I pulled the shirt up from his waist and
over his head. There were huge contusions and bruises on his ribs,
stomach, and chest. “Jesus Christ Drake!” I could hardly see his
chiseled abs and perfectly formed chest under the damage. Even his
tattoos were hard to spot.

He winced in pain. “I’ll be ok. I just need to
rest.”

I didn’t agree. “We need to get you to the hospital
and file a report with the police. We can’t let whomever did this
to you get away with it. I won’t let them!”

“No! No Doctors and no cops. I don’t want the hassle
or the expense. I can’t afford it. I’ll heal; I just need a few
days.”

“A few days? You mean a few months! How are you
going to work like this, huh? Who’s going to watch Jackson? Have
you thought about that? I’ve got school to deal with. I can’t be
around here everyday, and even though I want to spend every moment
with my nephew it’s just not possible!”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not trying to pick a fight.
Shit, you act like it’s my fault I got my ass kicked.”

“I know. You’re right. I’m just trying to help.” I
hurried to the bathroom, turned on the bathtub’s faucet and plugged
up the drain. I pulled a bag of Epsom salts from under the bathroom
sink and emptied the entire bag into the pooling warm water,
swishing them around with my hands until they dissolved.

Drake stumbled into the bathroom, bracing himself
against the walls. “What’s that for?”

“It’ll make you feel better. Come on now, take off
your clothes and get in the tub.”

He hesitated, almost as if he was shy.

“Drake, I’ve seen it all before.”

“Yea when I was sixteen,” he chuckled, but quickly
stopped as he grimaced in pain.

“Can it really have changed all that much? Now come
on.” I turned off the faucet.

He grimaced, unhooking his belt and pulling it
through the hoops of his jeans, and then unbuttoned his fly,
letting his pants fall to the ground. He pulled off his boxers and
then I saw his dick. Oh my, it had certainly changed. It was much,
much bigger than I remembered. I turned away quickly, my heart
racing.

“I thought you’d seen it all before?” he said,
trying his best to smile through the pain as he stumbled into the
bath.

“Yea, of course I have. It’s not a big deal, it’s
just a penis, right?”

He smiled. “Right…”

He laid back in the bath and slid backward until he
was submerged. The damage was even worse than I thought. His
knuckles were cracked open and bleeding, the water turning pink and
brown at the same time. He emerged from the bathwater. “God dammit
this stings!”

“That’s the salt. Why are your knuckles so busted
up? I thought you got jumped.”

“What? You don’t think your big bro got a few good
licks in on those motherfuckers?”

I giggled. “Sorry, I just viewed you curled up into
a ball and taking a beat down.”

“Sorry to disappoint you sis, but I’m not that much
of a pussy.”

“I don’t know,” I teased. “I used to wrestle you to
the ground pretty easily back in the day.”

He struggled to laugh. “I let you win and you know
it!”

“Sure you did…”

Jackson began to cry. “I’ll check on him, just stay
there and soak, ok?”

He nodded, slipping under the water again and
staying there. As I walked out of the bathroom I caught a glimpse
of his pants, and tucked inside of his front jean pocket was a huge
wad of cash. Just by the looks of it there had to be two or three
grand.

Drake emerged from the bath and ran his fingers
through his ink black hair, slicking it back.

“Hey, are you being straight with me?” I said.

He turned around and looked me square in the eyes.
“Why would I lie? Now quit asking questions and bring me my son,”
he snapped.

I didn’t want to piss him off and did as he asked,
picking up Jackson from his crib and carrying him toward Drake. He
caressed his face with his swollen, bruised hands until baby
Jackson fell right to sleep in his arms. The sight of them together
just melted my heart. He was such a good dad.

I couldn’t keep my mind off the wad of cash. I
worried he’d gotten desperate and fallen in with a bad element. I
knew they types of people that hung out at Whispering Wind, and
they weren’t the type of people you had over for Sunday dinners. It
was a biker bar, and bikers, at least in this town, dealt meth. If
Drake had gotten caught up with those speed freaks he’d be in a
world of hurt.

My voice trembled a bit, I didn’t want to call him a
liar, but I wanted him to know he had other options if he wasn’t
giving it to me straight. “I know times are tight Drake. But you
can always ask mom and dad to help.”

“Mind your own business. I’ve told
you before, I ain’t ever talking to mom or dad again, especially my
dad. That rotten son of a bitch can go fuck himself after what he
did to
my
mother.
I watched the cancer eat away at her while he was busy fucking your
mom. And as much I love your mother, what he did was despicable! I
won’t ever ask him for money. I’d rather end up on the
street!”

Jackson began to cry. “God dammit now I’ve woken
him. Just leave me be Beth, please.”

“I know it wasn’t right for your dad to do that to
your mom. I know. But Drake, I saw the bills on your dinner table,
they aren’t going to let up.”

He looked me in the eyes as dead serious as I’d ever
seen him. “And those bills aren’t none of your fucking business.
I’m going to pay every single last one of them.” He handed Jackson
back to me. “Tuck him into his crib. I’m done talking.” He sunk
back below the surface of the water and didn’t come up.

I tucked Jackson in his crib and turned off the
lights. It was too damn late to drive home so I retired to the
couch; curling up with an old pillow and an afghan his grandmother
had knitted him when he was born. It didn’t take me long until I
fell asleep. I was pooped.

Chapter 2

Redmond, Oregon – Sunday, May
17
^th
,
2009