Raging Hard: A Stepbrother SEAL Romance (With bonus novel Based!) (35 page)

After she left, I couldn’t help myself. I was way too worked up thinking about the feel of her skin and those sexy lips. I slipped my hand down my shorts and rubbed one out right there in front of the piano, thinking about her mouth wrapped around my dick’s tip, sliding her tongue along my shaft, and grabbing onto her hips as I fucked her rough from behind.

Did I feel guilty, jerking off to thoughts of my stepsister? Yeah, maybe a little bit. But we were barely related. And besides, I was Based Carter. People expected that sort of shit out of me. And even though I was doing it for nobody but myself, it was nice to have an excuse to justify it.

I grunted and climbed out of bed, grabbing my cane. The usual fuck morning routine. Easy for most people, excruciating for me. The pain usually subsided a bit as I worked the kinks out of my muscles, but until then it was fucking torture just standing still.

I made my way downstairs dressed in my usual workout clothes, ready for another day of grueling and embarrassing PT. Part of me wanted to avoid running into Brie, and part of me hoped she was still wearing that same outfit from the night before. Truthfully, I knew I should avoid her as much as possible, since apparently I could barely control myself around her, but that was exactly the problem. Logic and reason meant nothing when I saw Aubrie’s body and my desire threatened to drown me all over again.

Thankfully, the kitchen was empty as I grabbed some cereal and wolfed it down as fast as I could. The less I saw of her, the fewer stupid personal things I would admit to her. I was like a whiney kid, telling her about all my problems. And mentioning the deal with her dad?

Fuck, I was an asshole.

Fortunately, I didn’t have too much time to mentally berate myself, as the camera crew began to filter into the kitchen and Jess went through the list of shots she wanted to get done. I nodded at her, barely listening.

The only thing I could think about was Brie.

––––––––

I
grunted, lowering the ten-pound weight with my legs. Ten pounds was nothing, babies could lift ten pounds, and yet the muscles in my legs were screaming with every rep.

“Come on, Lincoln. You can do this,” Tracey said.

I growled at her, drenched in sweat. Down and up, down and up. Pain and more pain.

I wanted to give up. I wanted to stop. But I wanted to jump again more than I cared about the pain and the suffering.

“Five more and you’re done. Give it to me, Lincoln.”

I concealed my grin. I’d give it to her, all right.

Down and up. Down and up. I grunted, hands clenched on the bench, body covered in sweat. I could practically feel the crew tightening up on my face, getting every ounce of sweat in super detail. Jess was probably imagining the inspirational music she’d play over the scene as I busted out the last three reps.

“There you go!” Tracey said as I let the weights drop onto the ground, panting.

“Fuck, that shouldn’t be so hard,” I said.

She laughed. “Actually, you shouldn’t be lifting these at all. You’re way ahead of schedule.”

“What can I say? I do nothing half assed.”

“There you go. Full ass everything, always.”

I laughed and grinned at her. Even though she was basically my full-time torturer, Tracey was pretty cool. And I had recently found out that she was gay, which meant I didn’t have to worry about her secretly pining for me or some shit. Maybe that was really conceited, but I’d had too many cool girl friends end up in my bed over the years and too few of those friends left. I didn’t need to alienate my physical therapist too.

Then again, it would probably make for some awesome footage for Jess.

“Cut. That’s good for now.” I looked up as the crew started switching off the equipment and Jess walked over to Tracey and me.

“Done early?” I asked.

“Taking a break. Cliff wants to talk to you.”

I had expected to hear from him a little sooner, but I knew I couldn’t avoid at least one conversation with Brie’s dad.

“Who’s Cliff?” Tracey asked.

“Man of the house,” I said.

“And my boss,” Jess added. “Also something of a hippie.”

I laughed. “He’s an L.A. hippie, which basically doesn’t count.”

“Hippie with a huge bank account,” Jess said.

“Isn’t that a yuppie?” Tracey asked.

I shook my head. “Different thing.”

“Anyway, good work this morning. I’ll see you later.”

It was like being back in high school playing football again: two a day every day. “See you then, coach.”

She laughed and walked off to get changed and to do whatever she did with her off time. I looked back over at Jess.

“When’s he want me?”

“Now, I think. He’s out by the pool.”

I sighed. No rest for the wicked. I stood up with some effort and shrugged off Jess’s attempt to help me. She handed me my cane and I began the trek outside, a towel wrapped around my shoulders.

“Have a good break, guys,” I said to the crew. Despite the fact that they shoved cameras in my face all day every day, they were decent people.

I gimped my way out through the kitchen, taking my time. Part of me hoped Cliff would get sick of waiting and head out to do whatever he did with his ample time and money, but I wasn’t so lucky. He was sitting out by the pool, dressed in his usual khaki pants and green collared shirt. He waved as I approached, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

“Lincoln Carter, how the hell are you?”

I made a face. “Walking, more or less.”

“That’s really, really good to see. Last time I was home, you were still in the wheelchair.”

Cliff hadn’t exactly been around much during my stay, even though he was supposedly watching over me during my probation. Still, I didn’t give a shit what he did, so long as he kept calling my case officer and didn’t fuck over my mom.

“PT’s going good. I like Tracey.”

“I’m really glad to hear that. She came highly recommended.”

I struggled to sit in the chair next to him. As much as I hated it, I couldn’t help but let the pain show on my face as I stretched my legs out in front of me, working the kinks out of the muscles.

“She deserves a raise.”

“Maybe she does.” He looked at me for a second. “How’s the shoot?”

“Ask Jess. She doesn’t show me the footage.”

“I’ve talked with her and seen some stuff, but I wanted to get your perspective. This is your brand and your journey, after all.”

“Not sure what you want from me, Cliff. I didn’t want to do this to begin with.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have an opinion.”

I clenched my jaw, getting annoyed. It was bad enough that he was forcing me into the film, or reality show or documentary or whatever the fuck he was calling it, but I didn’t want to give him any help in shaping the damn thing. As far as I was concerned, it was his project, and I wanted as little to do with it as possible.

“So far it’s just a bunch of shots of me grunting and sweating and some interviews about my life. Can’t imagine anyone will find it interesting.”

Cliff laughed. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“So why keep doing this shit?”

“Trust in me and Jess. We know what we’re doing.”

“You asked for my opinion, and my opinion is that this whole thing is a waste of time.”

He smiled. “Okay. Noted.”

“That all you wanted?”

“Have you been seeing much of Aubrie?”

I paused, taken off guard. I hadn’t expected him to ask me about her.

“Not really. We live in the same house, so as much as you’d expect.”

“That’s good. She seems okay?”

“I don’t know, ask her.”

“You know kids her age,” he said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t want to talk much to her dad.”

Probably because you’re an asshole,
I thought. Out loud, I said, “She’s not exactly opening up to me, either.”

“I want you to do me a favor, Lincoln.”

“More favors?”

He laughed. “Just a small one. Don’t get close with Aubrie.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“I know you guys are stepsiblings, but do me a favor and keep your distance from her.”

“Why the fuck are you saying this to me?”

He sighed. “Please, you’re a smart person. Don’t take this personally.”

“How am I supposed to not take that personally?”

“Look,” he said, taking off his sunglasses. “Aubrie has a lot going on. I didn’t know she was coming home, or else I would have made other arrangements for you.” He paused and locked eyes with me. “You have a certain reputation. You can’t deny that. I know you’re a decent kid, but it’s the truth.”

“And you don’t want me to taint your perfect angel?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Asshole.”

“I know. It’s hard not to take personally. But appearances and reputations matter, regardless of how true they are. I know you’re not a bad guy, but the world doesn’t. Aubrie has an incredibly bright future ahead of her, but I’m worried being associated with someone of your reputation might damage her chances of landing her dream job.”

“Jesus, Cliff. This is like a shitty movie. This is the plot of
Dirty Dancing
.”

He laughed. “Except you two are related.”

“Yeah, which makes it weirder.”

I realized that my fists were clenched, and I wanted to punch his smug face until he bled.

“I get it. I’m sure you think I’m being a huge asshole. But regardless of what I know about you and who you really are, how people see you is more important than anything else. I don’t want to jeopardize Aubrie’s future because she’s associated with Based Carter. Even if Lincoln Carter is a good guy.”

I nodded, my hands gripping the chair, my whole body tense with rage. The piece of shit had the audacity to show up out of the blue and to ask me to stay away from his perfect little daughter, as if I were some piece of fucking trash. And yet he was perfectly fine working with me and raking in the cash together.

Fucking hypocrite. Any regrets I was feeling over telling Brie about her dad blackmailing me into the film were completely dissolving.

“Whatever you say, Cliff,” I managed to say through clenched teeth.

“Thanks, Lincoln. I’m not saying you guys can’t be friendly. Or even friends. Just keep it away from the cameras and the press. Keep it private.”

“I hear you. We done?”

“We’re done. I hope you’re not going to let his affect our professional relationship.”

I struggled to my feet as the range of responses played through my mind. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, break every contract I’d ever signed with his companies, but I knew that I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t go back to jail. I knew I needed him to get through my PT, to get my fucking legs back, to get back into the air.

One day, you fuck, when I’m healed and away from you, I’ll make you pay for this
, I vowed to myself.

“I won’t let my reputation get in the way of her future.”

“Thanks. That means a lot, you saying that.” He paused and smiled, his fake fucking L.A. sleazy smile. “Good luck with your PT.”

I turned and gimped away, wishing I could move faster. The fuck’s eyes were burning a hole into my back.

As if my life weren’t complicated enough.

––––––––

D
ip down and repeat. Dip down and repeat. Tracey pushed up against me, sweat and camera lights, repeat. Tracey encouraging. Jess trying to get a better shot. Dip down and repeat.

My legs were on fucking fire, but it didn’t matter, I had to dip down and repeat until Tracey said stop. Everything in me wanted to quit, wanted to walk away and stop, but the memory of flying through the sky kept me down on the ground. Kept me working harder than I had ever worked before. I dipped down and repeated. Dipped and repeated.

That’s how my day went. Pain and hard work, sweat and more work and more pain and more sweat, and cameras all over the place, and Aubrie. And the thought of my cock pressing deep inside her and the gasp she’d make. Fucking her until she came on my hard dick.

After the reps and the pain and the frustration, I limped away, the cameras broken down and stashed for the night. Tracey had left an hour ago, and I had spent that hour in front of Jess answering mindless question after question about my rehab.

I was finally rid of them. I limped out down the hallway, past the kitchen, and headed into what I called the game room. It was about as big as the kitchen and was dominated by a pool table in the center with vintage pinball machines lining the walls around it.

I always ignored the pool table. I was there for one thing and one thing alone: an old 90s Batman pinball machine. It was my nemesis. I had set high scores on every other machine, but for some reason I was having trouble with the Dark Knight. I grunted as I leaned up against its cabinet and hit the button to drop a new ball and start a new game. Fortunately, Cliff had made the machines free.

That was my routine. After PT, no matter how exhausted, I’d go into the game room and play a few balls. At first, Jess wheeled me in there and left me parked in front of a machine, barely able to see down into the cabinet. As time went by, though, I was able to play on my own strength.

I worked the flippers and the ball zoomed all over the place. Lights and sounds flashed as I worked the machine. I lost myself in the game.

And just as I really started getting deep into the flow, I heard a cough behind me. The ball plunked off a flipper, bounced back toward me, and zoomed in between the flippers.

Game over.

I turned around. Aubrie was leaning against the pool table, smiling at me. I stared at her body and mentally cursed. It was like she was trying to get me hard. She wore a sheer white tank top with a red bathing suit top underneath it, her tits practically spilling out of the thing, and those sexy cotton shorts that I loved. Her hair was slightly damp but drying, and I figured she had been swimming.

“What’s up, Brie baby?” I asked.

“Didn’t expect to find you in here.”

“I like to play after PT is done.”

“I would have guessed you’d use the pool table before Batman pinball.”

“Looks can be deceiving. Pinball is the true game of skill.”