Stepbrother Backstage (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 3) (12 page)

He brings his mouth to mine, kissing me ardently. In one
swift motion, he reaches behind him to grab his jeans from the floor, producing
a condom from his back pocket. He’s a man who comes prepared—just when I
thought he couldn’t get any sexier. He expertly and subtly tears open the
condom wrapper, rolling the rubber along his cock as I grab hold of the pillow,
trying to control my anticipation. Protection securely in place, Finn pulls my
hips back against his. I can feel his staggering cock hard against the rise of
my ass, pulsating with need. Lifting my hips, I guide his rock hard member
between my legs from behind, shivering delightedly as I feel Finn’s tongue
glide against mine.

“I want to feel you everywhere,” I tell him, running my hand
along the smooth length of his rigid shaft.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted to let you feel me?” he
growls. Grabbing hold of my hip as he lets the swollen tip of his cock press
against my wet pussy. “How much I’ve wanted to sink into you, inch by inch?”

“Oh, I think I can guess,” I grin breathlessly, arching my
back as Finn poises himself against me.

Our voices rise up in the darkness, entwined in blissful awe
as Finn presses himself slowly into me. I push back against him, driving that
incredible cock deep into my aching body. My mouth falls open in wonder as I
feel the sheer size of him splitting me open. We lay side by side, clutching
each other with desperate hands as he finally sinks all the way inside of me.

“Christ, you’re so deep, Finn…” I breathe, amazed that I can
even take the full enormity of him.

“You feel so good wrapped around my cock, babe,” he growls,
drawing back his hips and thrusting into me, harder this time.

Words fail me as I press back against him, meeting him
thrust for thrust. Our bodies move against each other, urgent and searching.
Finn drives himself further inside of me with every pass, filling every inch of
me as I pull him even deeper. His cock collides with my very core, my body
opening like it never has before to take even more of his glorious length. I
can already feel that hot, tight pressure remounting inside of me. But I don’t
shy away—I want to be utterly demolished by this pleasure, destroyed and born
again at Finn’s side.

“Fuck, I’m close…” he growls, pounding into me as his
fingers dig into the hips.

“I want to come with you,” I tell him, “Whatever it takes…”

My breath catches as he swings me onto my hands and knees,
seamlessly shifting to kneeling behind me. He cocks back his hips and rams into
me, sending a keening wail rising from my throat. My back arches as I feel him
drive through my body, colliding with a sweet spot deep inside. All at once I’m
hurtling toward the edge right alongside him. Any minute know, I’ll be a goner.

“That’s so good,” I cry out, letting my head fall back
between my shoulders as I ride the pummeling thrusts of Finn’s cock.

“I’m right on the edge,” he says through gritted teeth,
holding onto my slender waist with all his might.

“Me too,” I gasp, “I’m so, so—”

Our voices join in wordless ecstasy once more as Finn pulls
back and sends one last leveling thrust deep into my body. I feel him come hard
as a second sweet surge flows over me. Together, we barrel straight into
oblivion, holding each other fast as our bodies are overwhelmed with bliss. He
falls forward against me, and the warm weight of him is the only thing keeping
me from being swept away by sensation. Our bodies fill up with tight, electric
energy, then slowly begin to settle. Our sweat-slicked limbs relax around each
other, the edges of our bodies blurring until it’s impossible to say where he
ends and I begin.

Finn gently slips out of me and rolls onto his back, pulling
me to him. I curl up against his muscular form, fitting myself against his
side. Resting my cheek on his firm chest, I feel the wild beating of his heart,
the slow leveling out of his breath. The minutes flow by as we slowly come back
down to earth, a comfortable silence wrapped around us like a blanket.

“Do you think we could we just lay here forever?” I finally
whisper to him, just before I drift off into slumber.

“We could sure try,” he chuckles sleepily, kissing my
forehead as sleep overwhelms me.

We drift off together, naked on top of the tangled
bedsheets. Alone with Finn in this run down motel, I feel safer than I have in
years. Happier, too. It’s a mystery, but one that I’m happy to live with. With
a contented smile on my face, I finally submit to a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

The ancient ceiling fan spinning overhead does little to
displace the rising summer heat. I peel my eyes open, perplexed for a moment by
my unfamiliar surroundings. My head pounds heavily after a rum-soaked night of
music and drags of friends’ cigarettes. It isn’t until I roll onto my back,
spot my clothes tossed all around the room, that the night before clarifies
deliciously in my memory.

I sit bolt upright, clutching a starchy sheet to my naked
body as I try to get my bearings. Here I am, in the motel room Finn and I
shared last night. Last night, which we spent fucking each other like crazy
until we finally passed out. I look down at the empty bed beside me, and
realize with a pang of longing that Finn’s clothes aren’t anywhere to be seen.
In fact, no trace of him is left in this tiny, threadbare room.

Leaning back against the headboard, I try to hold my
disappointment at bay. I’d been warned before sleeping with Finn that he wasn’t
the sort of man who sticks around. Natasha and her friends gave me plenty of
notice that he might disappear after he’d had his way with me. But I didn’t
believe them. Not truly. That didn’t sound like the Finn I’d come to know. But
now here I am, in the cold light of day, and he is nowhere to be found.

Oh my god…What if they were right about him all along.

I press my hand to my mouth, surprised by the sickening drop
of my stomach. It isn’t anger that swells inside of me—it feels more like
mourning. I realize with a start just how attached to Finn I’ve become. My
wanting him has always been about far more than just sex. Only now, in his
absence, can I see that clearly. I’ve been telling myself that it wouldn’t
bother me, to be separated from him. To be deprived of any sort of future with
this person I’m swiftly falling for. I see know how wrong I’ve been.

I don’t want to say goodbye to Finn. Not now. Not yet.

Just as hot tears begin to prick my eyes, I hear the heavy
click of a key turning the lock on our door. I scramble to my feet, wrapping
myself hastily in the bed sheet. I’m convinced that some poor housekeeper is
about to get a nice view of my bare ass. But as the door swings softly open, it
isn’t a startled motel worker who appears in the doorway at all. It’s Finn.
Finn, holding two coffee cups and a brown paper bag as he nudges the door open
with his shoulder. He glances up and catches sight of me staring across the
room at him, probably looking as white as the sheet that’s wrapped around my
naked body.

“What the hell are you doing?” he laughs, easing the door
closed behind him.

“Y-you’re back,” I stammer, sitting back down on the bed.

“Of course I’m back,” he says, handing me one of the coffee
cups, “What, did you think I made a break for it or something?”

“No,” I say quickly, “Well…Maybe. I mean—Thank you. For the
coffee.”

“You’re welcome, you little spaz,” he says, lifting my chin
and kissing me warmly. “I thought I’d let you sleep in a little. You seemed
pretty tuckered out after last night.”

“Whose fault is that?” I smile, my core aching deliciously
as I cross my legs.

“I was just following orders,” he shoots back, sitting
beside me as he slips an arm around my waist. “But seriously…How do you feel?
After last night, I mean.”

“Honestly,” I tell him, shaking my head in wonder, “I
feel…great. Incredible, even.”

“Good,” he murmurs, pulling me gently to his side, “Because
I’ve got to tell you, I don’t think I could give you up now if I tried.”

“Really?” I ask, turning to face him, “This wasn’t just a
one-time deal for you?”

“Of course not,” he says, eyebrows raised in surprised, “Why
would you think that?”

“I guess…I just didn’t want to get my hopes up,” I tell him
honestly.

“I get it…” he replies, tucking a lock of hair behind my
ear, “But hey, remember our deal? No trying to guess what the other is
thinking. We said we’d be straight with each other, yeah? That’s more important
now than ever.”

“I agree,” I reply softly.

“So, no bullshit. No games,” he says firmly, a smile
spreading across his face, “Besides, you know how much I like it when you tell
me what you want.”

“Do I,” I grin back, my body thrilling at the mere
suggestion of what happened last night.

“Now, drink up,” he tells me, taking a swig of his coffee,
“We’ve got to check out in half an hour, so get your ass in gear.”

“Yes sir,” I reply with a laugh, catching the muffin that
Finn grabs out of the paper bag and tosses my way.

We amble about the motel room, dressing and packing
languidly as we nurse our coffees. There’s no awkwardness in the silences that
occur between us, just comfort. Ease. Not for the first time, I’m awed by how
well Finn seems to know himself, how unconcerned he is with power plays or
acting the part of the Big Man. It makes sense, of course. He doesn’t have to
play at being a confident, self-possessed, passionate man, because that’s
exactly what he is.

Even though I’ve hooked up with guys who are technically
older than Finn, he’s definitely the first man I’ve ever been with. And
whatever happens between us, I know one thing: I’ll never be able to go back to
boys again.

Chapter Seven

Warm summer winds blows my hair back against the passenger
seat as we make our way home in the Hawthorne family pickup. The windows are
rolled down, and my legs are tucked beneath me on the seat. I feel more relaxed
than I have in ages, and it’s all thanks to the man behind the wheel.

He keeps one hand on the steering wheel as he scrolls
through his phone, running some music through the truck speakers. I expect to
hear something in line with what The Few plays, hard indie rock with a slightly
chaotic feel. But the song that begins to play is quieter, more precise and
artful than the music I heard last night. There’s a single guitar playing a
complicated picking rhythm, the feel of the song wavering between folk and
alternative rock. The sound is at once incredibly current and also hearkening
back to an earlier era. In short, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard.

“What musician is this?” I ask Finn, “It almost sounds like
The Tallest Man on Earth or something, but—”

“Whoa. I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughs, laying
his hand on my knee.

I whip around to face him, eyes wide. “This is
you
?!”

“Should I take that look to mean you like the sound of it?”
he asks, glancing at me from behind his aviator sunglasses.

“I love it,” I tell him emphatically, “It’s amazing, Finn.
You wrote this yourself?”

“Yeah,” he says nonchalantly, “It’s just some solo stuff
I’ve been working on.”

“Have you shown it to anybody yet?” I ask.

“Now I have,” he replies, giving my knee a squeeze.

My chest swells with pride once more. It’s an honor to be
the first person who gets to hear this. I’m beyond touched that he chose to
share it with me at all. For Finn, this is as intimate an act as sharing a bed.
And I don’t plan on taking this gesture of trust for granted.

“Man. I thought what I heard you play last night was good,”
I say, shaking my head, “But to be honest, Finn…This blows The Few’s music out
of the water.”

“You really think so?” he asks, keeping his voice even.

“I do,” I tell him sincerely, “Not that The Few isn’t a
great band. It is. But this is so much more…interesting. You’re doing something
in your solo stuff that’s completely singular. I don’t know if I could say as
much about The Few.”

Finn laughs unexpectedly, and I glance his way.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.

“Not at all,” he tells me, “It’s just…You’re the first girl
I’ve ever been with who hasn’t just blown smoke up my ass about my fucking
band.”

“Well. We said we’d be straight with each other,” I remind
him.

“That we did,” he replies, looking at me appreciatively.
“That we did.”

“Why am I the first person hearing this?” I ask, “Your sound
is already so polished, you could definitely be performing this back on the
West Coast.”

Finn’s jaw pulses as he fixes his eyes on the road. “I don’t
think my bandmates would like the idea of me playing solo,” he says.

“Why not? Did you sell your soul to them or something?” I
kid.

“I may as well have,” Finn says flatly.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, brow furrowing.

Finn doesn't say anything for a long moment. The only sounds
in the truck’s cabin are the plaintive notes of his guitar and the wind
whipping in through the windows. He reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the
dashboard and lights one up, taking a long, contemplative drag. I watch him
anxiously, nervous that I’ve overstepped somehow. But just when I’m about to
suggest that we talk about something else, he begins to speak once more.

“It’s crazy, how little you know about me,” he says, pushing
up his sunglasses. “We’ve gotten so close this week, I just assume you know my
whole life story. But really, we hardly know the first thing about each other.”

“What is it I don’t know?” I ask him softly, trying not to
push too hard.

His fingers tighten on the steering wheel as he takes
another drag. I can almost see the words churning in his mind as he tries to
piece the right ones together.

“You ever wonder why my dad was on the market when your mom
rolled into town?” he finally asks.

“It crossed my mind…” I reply, “I just assumed your parents
split up, I guess. It’s common enough.”

“‘Split up’ is one way to put it,” Finn nods, “Another way
would be that she up and left us when I was barely out of diapers.”

My mouth falls open at this revelation. “What do you mean
she left?” I press.

“Just that,” he shrugs, “See, my dad didn’t start out with a
lot. He only starting his contracting firm after I was born. It didn’t do too
well the first couple of years, and I guess my mom got tired of waiting for him
to make something of himself. Instead of sticking by the four of us guys, she
decided to scrap it and try again. Moved to the East Coast. Married some other
asshole. Had a couple new kids. Or so I’m told. I haven’t spoken to her since I
was in the single digits, myself.”

“Oh my god, Finn,” I breathe, stunned by his admission, “I
can’t believe it. How could someone do that to her own kids?”

“I’m pretty sure it had more to do with our dad than us, but
I get you,” Finn says, “Good ol’ John Hawthorne didn’t take her leaving too
well, either. He’s always had a temper, but that shit got out of hand when she
left. On the one hand, he was able to funnel all that manic energy into the
business and help it take off. But when there was still pent-up anger that
needed to be let out, it was usually me and my brothers that took it.”

“What do you mean, ‘took it’?” I ask, fearing the answer.

“I guess there’s no delicate way to say that he beat the
shit out of us,” Finn says, flicking his cigarette out the window, “But there
you have it. It was kind of like a hand-me-down. Cash got most of it first,
until he got big enough to fight back. Then it went to Luke, and then finally
to me. For the longest time, I just thought that’s how all parents were with
their kids. I didn’t realize until I was sixteen or so exactly how fucked up it
was. And the second I did, I got the fuck out of Dodge.”

“Where the hell could you go at sixteen?” I ask, “How could
you take care of yourself?”

“That’s when you started taking care of yourself, isn't it?”
he asks softly, “After your dad died, I mean?”

“Sure,” I allow, “I definitely had to finish raising myself,
but I had a roof over my head. Even if a revolving door was letting in a new
boyfriend of my mom’s every night.”

“I’m just saying. You do what you have to do to survive,” he
says solemnly, “And for me, that was getting out. I had a car, some cash I’d
saved up, and a shitty acoustic guitar. I packed everything up and headed out
to Oregon. Portland seemed like as good a place to land as any. For a few
months, I just slept in my car. Played open mic nights when I could, busked on
the sidewalk during the day. That’s how Blaine first found me.”

“Oh…” I breathe.

“Yeah,” Finn says, “He scouted me right off the street,
started bringing me around his place. Before long, I was living there. It was
practically a goddamn commune, to be fair—people came and went all the damn
time. They still do, but these days it’s mostly just The Few holding down the
fort. Those guys helped me get on my feet when I was just a kid with nothing
but a crappy car and a decent ear for music. I got my GED, started making some
money here and there, practicing with the guys every spare minute. Without
them, I don’t know where I would have ended up.”

“I can’t believe you went through all of that, Finn…” I say,
“No wonder you’re so loyal to them. The band…they’re your family.”

“You could say that,” Finn shrugs, “Though given my history
with families, I’d say that would be selling them short.”

“Fair enough,” I smile softly, “Fair enough.”

“So, that’s my sob story, I guess,” Finn says wryly,
glancing my way, “You’re not gonna start being all delicate with me now, are
you?”

“No fucking way,” I reply with a smile.

“Good,” he says gruffly, slinging an arm over my shoulder,
“That would drive me up the fucking wall, man.”

I certainly wouldn’t expect a tearful unburdening from Finn
Hawthorne. But as he takes my hand in his and holds it tightly, I can tell how
much it’s meant to him to share his past with me. Sometimes a touch can say
more than any number of words. Between Finn and me, a simple touch is all we
need to know that we’re safe. To know that we’re in this together—whatever
this
may turn out to be.