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  Table of Contents

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Stepbrother Studs: Evan

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  Faye doesn’t get it. Her older stepbrother, Evan, has always been her best friend and confidante, but now he doesn’t seem to want her around anymore.

  No, it’s worse than that. Evan’s changed. He’s keeping secrets. Hiding things from her. But the more he pushes her away, the more curious she becomes, until she discovers just exactly what Evan’s been doing—and why.

  Now Faye understands. Her stepbrother he think’s broken, a monster, and has been trying to keep them both from making a horrible mistake. But Evan’s plans to make her hate him have failed. Miserably. And his little stepsister is about to prove it to him…

  Stepbrother Studs: Evan

  By Selena Kitt

  CHECK OUT MORE IN THIS SERIES:

  Stepbrother Studs: Aaron

  Stepbrother Studs: Brian

  Stepbrother Studs: Cameron

  Stepbrother Studs: Daren

  Stepbrother Studs: Finn

  Faye watched her stepbrother from the side of the school, nosing his tricked-out Dodge Charger into the high school parking lot, a black shark amid the bland minivans and bright yellow school buses.

  Evan idled, waiting, behind the wheel. His window was down, music blaring. Girls passed by, glancing in, most doing a double-take—not that she could blame them—the bolder ones waving and saying, “Hi.”

  High school’s version of flirting.

  He tapped his fingers idly on the steering wheel, not to the beat of the song at all. A tall, leggy redhead dropped something on the ground next to his open window. Then she bent down to grab it, her ass right in his line of sight, making a show of it.

  He didn’t even return her smile.

  Faye saw him mutter something, blowing a stray wisp of jet black hair up away from his driving glasses, scanning the lot, looking for signs of his stepsister amidst the students milling out of the school’s doors carrying backpacks. She liked making him wait.

  She enjoyed the looks the girls gave her when she yanked open the passenger door, tossing her flip-flops onto the pristine floor mats. Evan glanced at the yellow sundress she’d poured herself into that morning, the one that showed off quite a bit of cleavage. She knew what she looked like.

  She flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, wrinkling her nose at him as she dropped her books—no backpack for her—onto the floor with her shoes.

  “Jeez, Ev, do you always have to dress like Marilyn Manson?”

  He glanced down at his black t-shirt, jeans and combat boots with a shrug.

  “You should let your hair go back to its natural color.” She frowned, reaching over to push a long strand of his jet-black hair out of his eyes. “Get it cut. You could be hot.”

  “Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, putting the Charger in gear and zooming around the fat backend of a yellow school bus, narrowly missing two cheerleaders.

  Faye just laughed. “My girlfriends keep asking me if you're gay.”

  “Really?” He snorted.

  “But if they say your porn collection, they'd think otherwise.” She gave him a sly, sideways glance, satisfied with the look that elicited from him.

  “You stay out of there!”

  “Sorry, brah, didn't think your porn stash was a matter of national security.” She grinned, reaching for the radio, changing the station. That garnered her another glare, but he didn’t stop her. “Got a thing for the MILFs though! No soccer mom’s safe in River City?”

  “Shut up,” he muttered again, shaking his head. “Look, just stay out of my stuff, all right? There are things… you just don’t want to know. And don’t call me brah.”

  Faye sat back in the bucket seat, putting her bare feet up on the dash. He glared at that too, but didn’t say anything. It was only when she began chewing on a strand of her long blonde hair that he reacted.

  “Don't do that.” He grabbed her hand.

  “I wash my hair.” She glanced down to where he was still touching her, squeezing her hand in his.

  “Jury's still out on that one,” he snapped, letting her go and putting his hand back on the wheel.

  “Fuck you,” she snapped, turning her face to look out the window.

  “Ugh, not a chance in hell,” he muttered.

  “I'm your sister, you pervert,” she reminded him. Okay, so she was reminding herself too. She didn’t even know why she bothered sometimes. He could be such a smug little ass.

  “Stepsister.” Evan emphasized the first syllable in the most pedantic way possible.

  “Well, yes, that. Evan, Lord of Technicalities. So, tell me, what technicality is keeping you single?” Faye knew it was a bad idea to get into this, but she did it anyway. “You've never had a girlfriend, not since my dad married your mom ten years ago. Are you sure you're not gay?”

  “What is this, a history midterm?”

  “It's a valid question.”

  “None of your business is my valid answer.”

  “How do you have money to pay for this car?” She wondered aloud, changing the subject as she crossed her arms and cocked her head at him. “All you do is deliver pizza on the weekend.”

  “Why so nosy all of a sudden?” His gaze swept over her as he stopped at a red light. “You my financial adviser now? Want to ask me about my 401(K) and how to diversify my bonds and shit?”

  A ping noise brought the conversation to a halt. Evan dug his smartphone out of his pants pocket. Faye watched him check his phone, feeling a little tinge of jealousy at the way he smirked at the screen, letting out a little laugh.

  “What's so funny?”

  “Change of plans. I need to stop somewhere before we get home.” He glared over at her, wagging a finger like she was a three-year-old. “But you have to promise to stay in the car.”

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes for the millionth time since she’d climbed in beside him, wondering what could be so urgent they had to stop on the way home. Some Goth emergency? Someone run out of black hair dye?

  After five minutes of silent driving—just the sound of the radio and Faye snapping her gum—the Charger pulled up to a little bungalow house. Evan got out of the car and headed to the back door with one more admonition for her to “st
ay put!”

  “Better not be selling drugs!” Faye shouted after him through her open window. “I’ll tell Mom!”

  Evan gave her the finger.

  Asshole.

  She narrowed her eyes at the little house. Her accusation wasn't an idle threat. Drugs made her real father an addict. It sent him to jail and prompted her mother to file for divorce.

  She watched him enter without knocking, wondering what in the hell he was up to.

  Evan was a Scorpio, so all the secret stuff shouldn’t have surprised her. The dark thing was innate with him, always had been. But there was a time when he shared those secrets with her. Now he was keeping them—more and more of them, it seemed. What had changed?

  Faye slipped her iPhone out of the side pocket of her sundress and checked her texts. She had to keep it on silent while she was in school. She answered a few, checked her email, played a couple games of Scrabble with Friends, and considered taking the car around the block, just to piss Evan off. But he’d taken the keys. Of course.

  Anyway, she figured he’d be out any minute.

  Except he wasn’t.

  It felt like it had been an hour.

  Another text—Evan? No—her friend, Amy. They were supposed to hang out tonight.

  She typed a message back: My brothers being such a chode right now. Probably selling meth to soccer moms #BreakingDouche

  “What is taking him so long?” she said to herself, squinting at the house. “Fuck it.”

  She opened the car door, leaving her iPhone on the seat of the car, and headed towards the side door he’d gone through. She raised her hand to knock and then changed her mind. The door opened without any effort. This made her smile.

  If you're dealing drugs, you are so dead, she thought. Now, that would be a secret he would have reason to keep from her. And the thought filled her with dread. She wasn’t going to lose Evan the way she lost her dad.

  Faye took a leisurely walk through the kitchen, admiring the high-end appliances. The same brands she saw advertised on those cooking shows Evan liked to watch. She did admire Evan's cooking talent. He got annoyed when she kept telling him over and over that he should be running a pizza parlor, not doing deliveries.

  Her hand traced the brushed aluminum of the stove.

  Was this breaking and entering?

  She walked back to close the door behind her, standing in the hall outside the kitchen, wondering where to go next. The house seemed cavernous. Random hallways appeared identical and led in different directions. The family photos stared back at her. Each exuded the relentless cheeriness of family vacations and holiday snapshots. Lots of photos from national parks. Mom and the kids standing next to Old Faithful. An old wedding photo, hairstyles back when Duran Duran and Flock of Seagulls was a thing.

  Then sound broke the silence.

  Not any ordinary sound like a distant sound of a television or radio or a dog barking.

  No, these sounds were physical, repetitive, and dirty.

  She heard Evan's voice and then a woman's.

  Tiptoeing down the hall, she peeked around the corner, and her jaw dropped at the sight. The hallway ended at a bedroom, where the door was open. Her stepbrother was grabbing the firm ass of some older, curvy blonde woman wearing a white terrycloth robe. He’d pinned her against a wall, and she saw them in profile.

  “I want you inside me,” the blonde purred.

  Faye’s jaw dropped.

  “Sure Mr. Heisman won't object?” her stepbrother asked, his hands kneading the woman’s ass under her robe. Faye stared at the way he ground against her. How old was she, anyway? Forty? What the hell was her brother thinking?

  “He's in Dubai all this month.” The older woman reached down to grab the bulge at the front of Evan’s jeans. “Why do you ask? Going to write my authorized biography?”

  “No,” he said with a smug grin, his arms cradling the woman’s behind as he picked her up. “I just don't want to be fucking your firm little ass when Mr. Heisman blows a shotgun round into my brainstem.”

  Faye gaped at the way he just lifted her like that, how she wrapped her long, tanned legs around his waist. He still had her up against the wall.

  “Can’t have that happen.” She peeled his tight t-shirt over his head and Faye gaped at her stepbrother’s body. She hadn’t seen him naked—even shirtless—in years. He’d been working out—another secret? His abs were like a washboard. Not that she could see enough of them with the woman wrapped around his torso. And she had to admit, she wanted to see more.

  What in the hell is wrong with me?

  “Fuck, Callista!” Evan hissed when the woman twisted his nipples, one in each hand.

  “Pay attention to me.” The blonde—Callista—pouted. She turned his head back from where he was staring out the bedroom window. “What, you think my husband hired a private dick? That what you’re looking for out there?”

  Faye realized, before he even said so, that he was looking for her, checking to make sure she wasn’t skulking around, looking in windows. But he was looking in the wrong direction.

  “Ha ha, dick. No. My sister’s in the car outside.” He turned with the woman in his arms, carrying her over to the four-poster bed. Faye looked at the broad, strong muscles of his back, the bulge of his biceps. “Has me slightly distracted.”

  “Wouldn't want you to get too sidetracked.” Callista half sat on the bed, opening her robe. Faye got a look at her tits, which, for a woman her age, were pretty impressive. Evan was looking at them too, rubbing the bulge in his jeans. “So I guess we have to be quick then?”

  “We got a little time.” He glanced toward the door and Faye froze, sure he’d see her. “She’s got her phone. Electronic babysitter.”

  “Then come to Mommy, big boy.” Callista dropped the robe entirely and sat to undo Evan’s belt.

  Faye’s breath returned slowly, her heart still hammering in her chest. She realized she must be far enough back in the shadows that he hadn’t seen her when he glanced at the open door. Thank God. She couldn’t imagine what in the world she’d say.

  She knew she should turn around and just go back to the car and wait. But watching as Callista stripped Faye’s stepbrother of his jeans and boxers made her belly burn, her ass clench. Faye’s jaw dropped when Evan knelt up on the mattress, hanging onto the top of the four-poster bed while the woman jerked him off. He was like a Greek god, a bronze sculpture, his body lithe and trim, his abs flat and hard.

  And not bad under the hood, Faye thought, licking her lips as she watched, fascinated, as the curvy blonde began to suck his cock. Choking sounds came from her mouth while she worked to enclose her lips around his monstrous instrument. Evan let out a low groan, his hips moving in time with the woman’s motions.

  “God, I love your fucking dick.” Callista pumped him in her fist, her tongue sliding down to his balls. She rolled and sucked those too, and Faye bit her lip, watching Evan’s head go back, consumed with pleasure.

  “I aim to please,” he said, gasping as she grabbed his hips and turned him, pushing him down on his back on the bed.

  “That’s what you’re here for,” the woman agreed, straddling him.

  Faye expected Callista to impale herself on that perfect cock—I would.

  The thought simply rose up and she covered her mouth against a gasp.

  What the hell am I thinking?

  But no—Callista slid up higher, straddling Evan’s chest, then positioning herself over his face. Now it was her turn to hang onto the four-poster while Evan buried his face between her thighs, his hands on the woman’s ass, squeezing and kneading her flesh.

  “Fuck, baby boy, your tongue is heaven!” Callista cried.

  Faye watched the woman’s breasts bounce and sway—they were heavy and full—as she rode Evan’s face like he was a bucking bronco.

  But she was even more fascinated with Evan’s glorious cock. It pointed up at the ceiling, his hips rocking all on their own as he licked the woman’s
pussy. His poor cock was in serious need of some attention.

  What if I just stroked it a little? Put the head in my mouth? I mean, what would it hurt…

  Faye swallowed down her thoughts as best she could, but they stuck somewhere in her middle, burning like a little ball of fire. Her nipples hardened under her sundress, even as she cursed and gave herself an inner lecture about twisted perversions and sickness and incest and what the utter fuck was she thinking?

  “Oh fuck! Yeah! Make Mommy come! Oh I’m gonna come all over your face!”

  Mommy? What the hell!

  Faye watched the woman shudder and quake, her quivering shaking the whole bed, her screams filling the house. Good thing no one was home! The neighbors had probably heard that and called the cops!

  Then the woman was climbing off his face, reaching into the night table drawer. She pulled out a condom and flung it onto the bed. Then she grabbed a tube of something and tossed it to Evan. He was wiping his face with the back of his hand, but he caught the tube.

  “What’s this for?” But it seemed he knew, because he was already up on his knees, rolling on the condom and squeezing a copious amount of the lube onto his cock.

  Jesus, that made it look appetizing, Faye realized. More appetizing. It was like putting whipped cream on a sundae. It made her lick her lips.

  “You know what it’s for.” Callista put her ass up in the air, shoulders down onto the bed, and reaching back to spread herself with both hands.

  It was way more than Faye wanted to see and she shrank back, but she didn’t go. Because her gaze skipped over to Evan, kneeling behind the woman and stroking his slick, shiny cock as he positioned himself.

  “Ready to fuck Mommy’s ass, baby boy?”

  Jesus Christ. Faye bit her lip to keep from crying out—with horror or arousal or fascination, or something, she wasn’t sure what—and her hand went, without another thought, to cup her aching mound through her sundress.

  And then he was really doing it. He was putting it into her ass. It was something Faye had heard about—some of her girlfriends did it in lieu of penis-in-vagina sex, keeping themselves technical virgins—but had never in her life imagined doing. But Evan was doing it. With some strange MILF.