Stepbrother Studs Mason: A Stepbrother Romance Read online

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  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Stepbrother Studs: Mason

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  A Twisted Bard's Tale

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  MOXIE

  By Selena Kitt

  High school senior, Moxie, agrees to be moral support for her friend, Patches, who is totally enamored with a college boy, so she says yes to a double date, even though she has to lie to her parents to do it. But Moxie wasn’t counting on lying about her age to get into an x-rated movie, and she definitely wasn’t counting on her date’s Roman hands and Russian fingers, or the fact that the pants she’s borrowed from Patches are several sizes too small. By the end of the night, Moxie finds herself in far more trouble than she bargained for!

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Angeline has a confession to make. She’s broken.

  When she tells her friends, Heather and Farley, that she’s never been with a man who could take her body to the places it’s desperate to go—and alone, her singular pleasure is wholly unsatisfying—they decide to get her drunk one night to see if they can solve her problem.

  But it’s no use. She’s sure she’s broken, unfixable. Damaged goods.

  When she passes out, drunk, car still running in the garage, she doesn’t care if she ever wakes up again.

  And then she opens her eyes to find that her arrogant, asshat stepbrother, Mason, has not only seen her at her lowest, he’s humiliated her even further by restraining her after her drunken, half-hearted suicide attempt.

  Her handsome, older stepbrother has always been secretive about his basement lair, and now she knows why. Mason isn’t just confident, cocky, a self-proclaimed Master of the Universe—he’s Master of much more than that.

  Mason is a Dom. And he’s sure he can prove to her that she’s not broken. Just… untapped.

  Troubled and desperate, Angeline looks at Mason with new eyes, wondering if he really is the only man who can tap her—so to speak.

  But he’s her stepbrother. He’s the man who’s seen her at her worst, her absolute lowest. Can she ever surrender herself to his demands, bend herself to his will, in order to find a deeper bliss than she’s ever known in her life?

  Stepbrother Studs: Mason

  By Selena Kitt

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  FIRST TIME WITH MY STEPBROTHER SERIES:

  Stepbrother First Times: Baby Love

  Stepbrother First Times: Baby’s Big Night

  Stepbrother First Times: This Time, Baby

  Stepbrother First Times: Welcome Home, Baby

  MORE STEPBROTHER STUDS:

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  Stepbrother Studs: Brian

  Stepbrother Studs: Cameron

  Stepbrother Studs: Daren

  Stepbrother Studs: Dustin

  Stepbrother Studs: Evan

  Stepbrother Studs: Finn

  Stepbrother Studs: Gavin

  Stepbrother Studs: Hayden

  Stepbrother Studs: Ian

  Stepbrother Studs: Jason

  Stepbrother Studs: Kevin

  Almost instantly, I regretted telling Heather and Farley about my little problem.

  I’d told them as we drained the last champagne after the opening of Farley’s latest show at the gallery. I’d lingered to help clean up, although my version of helping was less than… helpful. I followed Heather around as she loaded dishes and food trays into the caterer’s buckets.

  “Angeline,” she’d said. “You really need to kick this funk.”

  Like she was telling me anything I didn’t know?

  “So, you and Peyton didn’t work out. So what? You’re gorgeous,” she said, waving a hand toward my body. “And model-slim. You can find another boyfriend.”

  I must have grimaced, because she halted and put the tray down on a table. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’m… I mean, Peyton was great. Up for anything… but I have this little issue that seems to put men off... once they figure it out.”

  Heather gathered my hands in hers and pulled to me sofa in the middle of the gallery. The lights were lowered; Coltrane still played softly in the background.

  Maybe it was because she still held my hands that I decided to confide. “I’ve never had an orgasm. I made the mistake of telling him. After that…” I shrugged. “He made it his mission to give me one, and even though I tried to pretend, in the end, he didn’t feel like a man—or at least, that was his excuse…”

  “He cheated on you?” Her eyebrows rose.

  “Yeah. To prove the problem wasn’t him. It’s me.” I sniffed and raised my chin.

  “Oh, you poor baby.” She pulled me into a hug. “I had no idea.”

  I sniffed again, liking the scent of her perfume. My own mother hadn’t been as maternal as my friend, Heather, so it was a luxury to relax against her curves. My own mother would have thought my little problem was insignificant when juxtaposed against everything else a match with Peyton would have offered. She’d have called me a spoiled brat and told me to pull up my big girl panties. Orgasms wouldn’t provide me the lifestyle I was accustomed to. And most days, I would have agreed with her. However, this night, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. Unaccountably lonely.

  Poor little lonely rich girl. How cliché.

  “I know I’m being silly.” I pulled back and gave her a rueful smile. “And you’re right. I can find another man—a doctor next, I think. Someone in plastics who can maintain this figure and face so that when he dumps me because I’ve emasculated him, I can find my next sugar daddy.” I laughed, but she shook her head, not buying my attempt to make light of my pain.

  “Wait here. I know there’s another bottle.” Heather patted my thighs, her hands warm against the bare expanse of my skin.

  I sighed and leaned against the plush upholstery. I must have dozed because I didn’t know I wasn’t alone until a cool glass slid into my hand. I sat up and gave Farley a smile. “Thanks. Just one, though. I’ll have to go home soon.”

  “Nonsense,” Farley said, his gaze too penetrating as he swept my body.

  I frowned. “She told you.”

  “She did. But we have a plan—if you’re game.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to date one of your artists. They smell like turpentine!”

  “We wouldn’t do that. They’re selfish bastards.” He grinned. “We have another proposition…”

  And that was how I ended up here, although it had taken another bottle of champagne to ease me past my inhibitions and bring out the party girl.

  Heather knew me so well.

  Farley’s head was positioned over my pussy, and he made another swipe of his tongue along my slit. “You were so right, Heather. She’s delicious.”

  Heather giggled behind me. My back leaned against her naked front, her heavy breasts like warm pillows. Her fingers played with m
y nipples, toggling then pinching them. She gave one a pull. “Anything?”

  His tongue stroked my clit, and I did feel a stirring of arousal, but the pleasure only lasted for as long as his tongue remained there. And I knew from past experience, I’d never come this way.

  “I should fuck her,” Farley said, raising his head to give me wide smile. “Full-on, deep thrusts.”

  Heather reached past me and knocked the top of his head. “You’re only thinking about your own cock.”

  “True, but if we used the ring, I could make it last as long as necessary.” His adoring gaze went to Heather. “You could put it there.”

  Heather laughed softly. “You are a randy goat.”

  “I take it you’ve done this before?” I asked, doing my best not to let my voice slur. The champagne, which had given me a temporary buzz, was dragging me down now. This wasn’t turning out to be as fun as I’d hoped. I’m sure they meant well, but they’d been teasing me for so long, all I felt was frustration. “I’m just not made like everyone else. This is hopeless.”

  Heather pushed me up then knelt beside me. Her body was lush and sultry. So opposite of mine.

  “Maybe if I had your curves...” I said sadly.

  “A clit is a clit. Have you ever considered that you’re just not aroused by men?”

  Something in her breathless delivery made me stare. “I’m attracted to men.”

  She smoothed her hands over her breasts then slid them down to her hips. “Does this do anything for you?”

  “I’ve been with girls before…”

  “Have you done more than kissing your sorority sisters? I saw the Spring Break photos, by the way.” She shoved at Farley’s shoulders. “Let’s change up.”

  They arranged me like a doll, braced on my hands, my bottom in the air. I did like it better, especially when I heard latex snap and felt strong hands grip my hips. When Farley’s cock began to enter me, I felt a moment’s fear that we were crossing a line. But he slid easily inside me, filling my greedy pussy, and I gave a groan.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” Farley crooned. “Let us do the work. Relax, let us love you, Angeline. Pretty Angeline.”

  Silky hair slide beneath me. Soft lips bit my tits. A slick tongue worked its way downward until Heather neared my mound. Only there wasn’t room for her mouth to tongue my clit. Her fingers swirled atop my little nubbin, rubbing in circles that drew blood to the spot. Soon, I was engorged. She moved beneath me again, her mouth latching onto a sprung nipple. She bit, and tension wound inside my belly.

  Maybe…

  His cock worked its way in and out, my own moisture easing his glides. His fingers dug hard into my skin, and I knew he’d leave bruises. Something that ratcheted up my arousal.

  Maybe…

  But then his movements quickened. Too fast for me. Too desperate. And though Heather toggled and chewed, I felt the build begin to dissipate.

  A sob escaped, and then another followed.

  Heather moved from beneath me. Farley released my hips and withdrew—from my body, from the bed.

  “I’m broken,” I said, as she wrapped her arms around me, and I sank my face against her soft breasts.

  “Baby, you’re not broken,” she assured me, kissing my cheek. “You just haven’t found the thing, the person, you need. I’m sorry we couldn’t help.”

  Another cool glass slid into my hand, and I glanced up at Farley. His erection still bobbed hard and high. He gave himself a glance, and then me a crooked smile. “Heather won’t leave me this way, love. No worries.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” I said petulantly, and took a sip, letting the bubbles refresh me.

  “There’s our girl,” he said, sitting on the side of the bed. “Shall I call a driver?”

  I nodded. “I should go.”

  “Get a good night’s sleep. We’ll do lunch.”

  I made a face. “I won’t be up that early.”

  Heather laughed. “You really are a brat.”

  “Mason always said that. Told me I’d never amount to anything more than some man’s arm candy.”

  “Mason’s an asshat.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” I said, downing the glass in a long gulp. “A handsome asshat.”

  Farley took my glass, then began gathering my clothing from where he’d dropped it, piece by piece on the floor.

  “Why can’t I find someone like you?” I said, giving him a sappy smile. “You’re sexy and smart. Funny. And you care about my orgasms.”

  He bent over me and kissed my mouth. “I do care. But Heather’s right. Maybe you should look outside our circle. Do some experimenting. Find out what makes you horny.”

  “Maybe I should.” I gave him a smile then began to dress. I had no trouble sliding my dress over my body, but when I leaned forward to slide on my sandals, I swayed. “Whoa. The room’s moving.”

  Heather giggled. “You are so going to regret this tomorrow.”

  I turned my head to meet her gaze. “I don’t regret this. Not with you two. We’ve been friends forever. Besides, the details are going to be very… blurry.” I shook my head and widened my eyes. “That driver here yet?”

  Farley checked his phone. “He’s waiting outside the door.”

  I stood then and waved them both away. “You have something to finish. Don’t bother showing me out.” I wiggled my fingers and left, my heart hurting because they were already laughing, groaning. They’d both find pleasure tonight.

  They weren’t broken.

  * * * *

  Light shone brightly enough that even though I squinched my eyes shut, it blinded me. My head throbbed.

  “Turn it the fuck off,” I muttered.

  “That’s sunlight. Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Fuck off, Mason.” I groaned. “What are you doing in my room?”

  “It’s not your room.”

  The smell of coffee wafted beneath my nose, and I gulped, hoping I wouldn’t puke. “Mason!”

  “Wake up,” he said, his voice hard, merciless.

  Delicious, I thought, before I reminded herself—that’s Mason!

  I moved my hand to shield my eyes, but something stopped me. My eyes popped open and I stared at my wrist—a leather cuff was attached to it, and when I pulled upward, I saw it was attached to a chain.

  “Masoooon! What the ever loving fuck?”

  He settled his butt on the black, buttery-leather couch where I rested on my side and held out the cup. “Take it.”

  I couldn’t get my mind around the fact I was chained and that my asshat stepbrother was the one responsible. “Did you do this? Did you kidnap me? Are you holding me for ransom? Didn’t know you needed the cash. Mona said you were doing well for yourself.”

  Although what exactly he was doing had been kept ambiguous.

  “I didn’t kidnap you.” He snorted. “I saved your life.”

  “Huh.” I frowned, noting the harsh planes of his face. Always beyond handsome, he looked a little haggard, like he hadn’t slept, and his gaze bored into mine.

  “Do you even remember last night?”

  I felt heat creep across my face.

  I remembered getting naked and fucked by my two best friends… I remembered the suddenly, without warning.

  Holy fuck.

  Had I said anything to Mason? He already thought I was a spoiled rotten, trust fund princess. I could bear him thinking that, but having him know I’d turned to my friends in hopes of “curing” my little problem would be completely humiliating.

  “Not much,” I admitted, which was partly true. I didn’t remember coming home. “Am I home? Is this your apartment?”

  I’d never stepped foot inside his private rooms, which encompassed the entire basement floor. My glance cut from him and touched on the rest of the living area. My jaw dropped. One wall was covered by mahogany cabinets, a large selection of items sitting in brackets or hanging from hooks beneath a track light—whips, paddles, floggers, chains and more re
straints.

  I sat, dropping my feet to the floor as my glance went to a cage hanging from the ceiling and then a large, x-shaped piece of furniture with handcuffs and leg shackles bolted to the thick wood. I’d always suspected he was a kinky bastard, but never considered he was a sadist.

  It did explain a lot.

  With my eyes wide, I returned my stare to his shuttered face. “Why am I here?”

  “I found you in your car—in the garage—the motor running. I didn’t think my mom or Frank would appreciate finding you dead or drunk, your skirt up to your waist.”

  My gaze shot to my body. Sure enough, I still wore the little black dress. It had ridden up to the tops of my thighs, but thankfully, my pussy was covered. I remembered dressing at Heather’s and Farley’s apartment above the gallery. I hadn’t bothered with underwear.

  I combed my fingers through my hair, pretending nonchalance. “I was going to call a driver.”

  “You drove yourself. Said it wouldn’t have mattered if you’d died. That you wanted to die. That you were… broken.”

  Humiliation swept over me, flushing my skin. Broken. Fuck. From the look on his face, I’d said more. How much more? I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know.

  “I’m sober now.” I held up my hands. “You can unlock these.”

  “You said you wanted to die, Angel.” He shook his head and held out the coffee cup. “Said you weren’t good for anything. For any man.”

  I closed my eyes, knowing now what else I’d admitted.

  “I was drunk. You shouldn’t have let me keep talking.”

  “I couldn’t shut you up. I was half afraid you’d wake up the servants, you were so fucking loud.” His hand trailed my arm and pressed on a spot, which made me wince.

  Opening my eyes, I noted a bruise.

  “You fought me. I couldn’t get you upstairs, so… I brought you here.”

  “Just being a good big brother,” I said, infusing my voice with acid.

  Ours had never been a close relationship. The moment my daddy had remarried Mona, his attention had been divided. So had his assets. Something I highly resented. Mona was a gold-digger—out for Daddy’s money. And Mason—he’d become the son my father never had, learning the business from the ground up, groomed to take my father’s place when he retired. Daddy’d never given me the same chance—never mind I’d never shown an ounce of interest.