Stepbrother Studs Evan Read online

  What the ever loving fuck was her stepbrother into?

  “Ooh, that’s good!” the woman panted. She was already rubbing her pussy, from underneath. “Fuck! You’re so big! God, I love that cock!”

  “So you’ve said.” Evan gripped the woman’s hips, grimacing as he slid himself in deeper. Almost like he was in pain, although Faye knew it couldn’t hurt. At least, not him. But the woman didn’t seem to be minding it either.

  “Arrogant little bastard.” Callista let out a little laugh. “You ready to earn your money?”

  Money? Faye’s nose wrinkled at that. More games?

  “Always.” He pressed in, oh my God, he was all the way inside her, he’d just disappeared! Faye gaped, wide-eyed. Where did he go? Her clit hummed, tingling, begging her to touch it. “Yee-haw, motherfucker.”

  “Ha.” Callista moved her hips against his, grinding back. Her hand worked furiously between her legs. “That’s right, baby boy. You’re gonna fuck Mommy’s ass soooo good.”

  “Ahhh, so tight,” he gasped as she started to move. Evan’s fingers dug into the sides of her ass as he met her rhythm. “Mmmm, your fucking ass is so tight.”

  “So tight… what?” Callista murmured. Her eyes were closed, a half-smile curling her lips, clearly enjoying the ride.

  “So tight… Mommy,” he panted, pushing in faster, harder. His cock was slick and made wet sounds as he drove into her ass.

  Mommy again—the game they played, clearly. This is so fucked up.

  But for some reason, the taboo nature of the whole thing made her dripping wet. Faye was breathing so fast, so loud, she thought they must be able to hear her. With one hand she rubbed herself, through her sundress and panties, the other tweaking one of her achingly hard nipples as she watched her stepbrother fuck this MILF’s ass while he called her Mommy.

  “That’s Mommy’s good boy,” Callista purred, working her ass back on his wet cock. “Fuck me, baby boy! Fuck me hard! Ohhhh!”

  Faye whimpered, watching the scene, an unintentional but very aroused voyeur. There was no question she was going to stay the course now. She was going to stay and watch, see how things ended for her stepbrother and this woman.

  “Gonna come again for me, Mommy?” Evan panted, driving in deep and hard. The whole bed shook under the movement. “I’ll be a good boy, I won’t come anywhere you don’t want me to and make a mess… I promise, Mommy. I’ll be your good boy.”

  “Oh fuck!” Callista bucked and arched, her body shaking. “I’m coming! Oh I’m coming!”

  Evan pumped into her hard, working her ass with his cock as the woman screamed again with another orgasm, beads of sweat rolling down his chest and belly. He was gorgeous, and Faye could barely contain herself. She wanted to lick those drops of sweat off his abdomen. God help her, she did. More than that, she wanted to taste him. She didn’t even care where his cock was—where it might have been—she just wanted it.

  “Evan, you are a fucking treasure,” the woman murmured into the mattress as he withdrew his thick, meaty cock. That’s my good, good boy.”

  She rolled over, yanking off his condom so she could get to his flesh. Evan groaned when she did that. Then she took him in her hand, pumping fast.

  Faye watched, her mouth dry, pussy dripping. She was afraid she was going to soak the front of her sundress if she kept worrying her clit through it so she pulled it up and shoved her hand down the front of her panties. She muffled her own moan against the wall when her fingertips touched the fat, swollen lips of her cunt.

  “Such a good boy,” Callista purred, manipulating the length of his shaft with an expert precision, up and down. Her finger and thumb circled the velvety head, swollen and massive as she pulled and tugged at him.

  “Oh God, Callista, I'm gonna come,” Evan cried.

  “Come all over Mommy, Evan. Yes! That’s my good, good boy! You want to make Mommy proud, don’t you?”

  Evan made Mommy proud and astonished his stepsister with the amount of cum that erupted in great spurts from his huge cock. Faye whimpered as her fingertips just grazed her clit, setting off her own explosion of fireworks between her legs. Her knees buckled and she slid down the wall as she came too, watching Evan shoot a white-hot geyser of cum up over the woman’s tits. She didn’t stop pumping, making him cry out and arch, head going back as she worked it all out of him, all of that hot, salty semen mixing with their sweat and lube.

  “Mmm, such a good boy! That’s even more than last time! Have you been saving up?” Callista asked with a playful smile. “Come on, let's wash up. I'll leave the money on the night stand.”

  Faye didn’t move for a moment—couldn’t. Her knees were too wobbly. But once they started talking about getting up, she knew she had to, so she forced herself. Her ears were still ringing from her climax and her pussy felt like something fat and swollen between her thighs. But she couldn’t get caught in here, spying on Evan. He’d never forgive her.

  But she did see one thing before she started tiptoeing out. She saw Callista put money—actual bills—on the night stand. So it hadn’t been a game after all.

  Faye had just discovered how Evan had funded his tricked-out Charger.

  * * * *

  The car ride home was a silent one.

  She couldn’t even look at him when he slid into the driver’s seat, smelling like sex and perfume. Did he think she wouldn’t know? That someone wasn’t going to find out? What in the hell was he thinking, fucking women like that for money? In the ass!

  And Faye had stood there and watched the whole thing. What was wrong with her?

  The Charger pulled up to the house.

  “Not going to put it in the garage?” Faye asked. It was the first thing she’d said to him since and she got the words out without even a tremble in her voice.

  “No, I have to do some things.” He shrugged. “Tell Mom I'll be back before dinner.”

  “Some things? Well, that's ambiguous as fuck,” she snapped, gathering her books and flip-flops off the floor. “You know, you used to tell me your secrets, Evan. Now you’re keeping them from me. Guess I just don’t matter to you anymore, huh?”

  “Faye!” He called after her, but she slammed the passenger door as hard as she could manage—she was hoping it would come right off its hinges—and went into the house without looking back.

  * * * *

  After playing voyeur to his afternoon show, creeping into Evan’s room didn't seem wrong, exactly. Or any more wrong than getting turned on by watching her stepbrother fucking some strange woman in the ass. At least, that’s what she told herself as she tiptoed her way into his lair, half expecting him to jump out, even though she knew he was still gone.

  The house smelled like cabbage. Her mother was cooking something gross.

  Evan’s room smelled like Axe body spray, and underneath that, something thick and redolent. Cum, she realized, glancing at his full hamper, his unmade bed. Callista had asked him if he’d been saving up, but Faye doubted it. Guys his age were like Doritos—crunch all you want, we’ll make more.

  That made her remember the copious amounts of cum he’d shot that afternoon, the display she’d been witness to. She glanced around his room, at his cluttered desk, the posters on his wall. There were cars—Bugatti and Mustang. Movies—The Big Lebowski, The Purge: Anarchy, Reservoir Dogs. And, of course, women—Halle Berry, Amanda Seyfried.

  This was the public face of Evan Michael Savoy.

  But she knew her Scorpio brother better than that. He always had secrets.

  Faye bent over and looked beneath his bed. She found a box. Exactly where dark secrets should be kept. There was something poetic about it as she pulled it out, opening it.

  “Sheesh, do guys ever have enough porn?” she muttered, picking up a MILF porn DVD. “Ava Addams, Zoey Holloway, Michelle Lay. My Teacher's a MILF. Best of MILF Hunt. MILF Soup. MILF Soup? Gah.”

  Faye half-expected to see a porn version of Harold and Maude.

  Then she really
would worry.

  Beneath the many MILF porn DVDs, Faye spotted a journal. More secrets? She pulled it out, noting the lock. But the handwriting on the front was her stepbrother’s. Recent. This was no childhood missive then.

  “The Private Journal of Evan Michael Savoy, Esquire,” she read aloud, rolling her eyes. Scorpios! Faye read the warning on the front cover.

  Any person living or dead reading these private, confidential thoughts violates the rights of privacy of the journal-keeper. EVAN'S PRIVATE PROPERTY!!!

  Living or dead? Seriously?

  “Stepbrother, thou art douche,” she giggled, smiling fondly.

  She took out a bobby pin in her hair. It didn't take much to pick to pick the lock. Less time than it had taken for her to sneak into Callista’s house.

  If you want to keep things private, you need better security than Amateur Night at the Apollo, she thought.

  Inside the front cover were names and numbers, some crossed off.

  Beatrice

  Penelope

  Claudia

  Callista

  Ramona

  She saw Callista’s name and realized, with a sinking feeling in her belly, who they all were. She flipped through. The first few pages were pretty boring. Notes about the weather, car issues—and MILF hookup stuff.

  Sunny again. Need to call Bill about the exhaust manifold again. Bill says it's a transmission thing, but I call bullshit. The issue is totally about the exhaust manifold.

  Bring Ramona flowers. She digs that kind of romantic shit. Make sure not to double-book.

  After a few pages these boring entries stopped. A couple blank pages followed and then the pages became covered in thick prose. Frantic writing covered almost every square inch of these journal pages. Some pages had been torn out. Then Faye spotted a complete entry.

  Dearest Faye…

  Dearest Faye? She thought. A bit lovey-dovey for Evan, Mr. Cold-hearted Gigolo Stud. Most of the time he treats me like I'm in the way. Now all of a sudden I’m “Dearest Faye?”

  She read on.

  This will probably be the first of many letters written to you I’ll never send. I’m a big, dumb bastard for even thinking these things, let alone putting them down on paper. But I have to put them somewhere. If I don’t, I’m going to drown in these thoughts, everything I’m feeling…

  Fuck.

  I don’t even know how to explain. Where to start.

  The truth… the truth is…

  I love you, Faye.

  Well, you have a funny way of showing it, she thought, frowning at the words. I mean, she loved him too. Of course she did. He was her brother…

  She looked down at the next sentence, her breath caught in her throat.

  And I don’t mean I love you like a sister. I love you like a man loves a woman. A woman he’s not related to. A woman he’s free to pursue, to woo, to have. But I love a woman I can never, ever have. I love you, Faye—I’m in love with my sister.

  Holy hell. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, a hand moving to cover her mouth.

  I’ve wrestled with this more than you’ll never know. I’ve tried to stop feeling this way. I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t. But you are everything I have ever wanted, everything I could ever want, in a woman. And if I can’t have you… the truth is, I don’t want anyone else.

  Could have fooled me, she thought, remembering his afternoon “meeting” with Callista. The thought of them together still made her belly burn with jealousy. But what do I have to be jealous of? He’s my brother, for godsakes! Her eyes went to the words I know it’s wrong. And it was. Forbidden. Taboo. Evan knew he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He knew it as well as she did.

  So why did she feel it too?

  I see the hurt look in your eyes these days when I push you away, and I wish I could tell you. I wish I could take you in my arms and confess my sins. But I won’t sully you with this, make it dirty and wrong for you. I’m your brother, that’s all I’ll ever be to you, and that will have to be enough. I can’t share my secrets with you anymore. I have to keep them locked away, I have to keep myself locked away from you. I’m a monster, and if you knew, if you saw the real me, you’d turn away in disgust. If it’s my job to protect you, then I’m going to protect you from the worst thing that could happen to you—me. The more you hate me, the better I’m doing my job. I just wish… fuck, I wish it didn’t hurt so much.

  “Oh Evan.” She touched the words on the page, smudged and streaked with his left-handed scrawl. Her lower lip trembled as she turned the page. This wasn’t a letter to her. It was like a laundry list.

  This is what I imagine when I jack off:

  Faye in the shower.

  Faye applying baby oil to her sweet, gorgeous, perfect tits. God, oh God, do I want to suck those tits. I want to see her nipples. I imagine them as pink. I bet they’re pink. They have to be pink.

  Faye felt them hardening under her sundress. They were, indeed, pink.

  Faye’s belly—she has these tiny little hairs like peach fuzz all around her navel. Fuck.

  Faye’s thighs. They’re so fucking soft! She was wrestling with me, wearing one of those sundresses she loves so much, and she had me in some sort of scissor hold—I was letting her win because my cock was so hard I couldn’t roll over—and her thighs were squeezing mine. I thought I might come right there.

  Faye laughing. Stupid thing to jack off to, but her laugh. It’s like sunshine. Makes me feel warm all over. She’s like my light in the darkness.

  Faye blowing kisses. She always blows me kisses when I drop her off at school. I’m going to miss that most, after she’s graduated. That mouth. Fuck, that mouth! Yeah—fuck that mouth. That’s what I want to do. God.

  Faye’s ass. Her perfect, round, tight, firm little ass. If I could just touch it. Just rub my cock between her crack. Seriously, just that. Just once. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I want to fuck her ass.

  Faye’s cunt. She shaves it. I heard her talking to her friend, Amy, about it, they were giggling and talking about Brazilian waxing or something, but Faye said she shaved it. Just left a little up top. Smooth and soft. Faye’s pussy. Oh God, I want to drown in her. I want to taste her juices running down my chin. I want to be inside her so bad it hurts.

  Faye’s… everything. Everything.

  Faye.

  Faye.

  Faye blinked at the page, her breath coming faster, her pussy aching, swollen, in spite of her earlier climax. She couldn’t believe what she was reading, any more than she could believe what she’d seen that afternoon. But she had seen it. Was reading it.

  More than that, she was feeling it. The more secrets she read, the closer she felt to Evan. The closer she got to her own feelings, and they surprised her. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t disgusted or horrified, like he thought she would be.

  Like she should be.

  She read another entry.

  Dearest Faye,

  The last thing you need in your life is a man who says he loves you and then can’t follow through. I know how much it hurts you that your dad’s in jail, and mine isn’t much of a replacement. Look, I know our parents love each other and all—I think they must, otherwise why did they marry each other?—but your mom isn’t much of a mom and my dad’s not much of a dad. They’re just so lost in their own world, I think they don’t notice us most of the time.

  Which is probably a good thing, because if they knew half the stuff I was thinking, they’d probably lock me away in a loony bin. Thank God this journal’s locked. Your mom’s so nosy. Although sometimes, secretly, I wish you’d find it and read it. In my dreams, you come to me in the middle of the night and tell me you read my journal and instead of stabbing me in the heart with a butcher knife, you climb into bed with me and tell me you love me.

  Yeah, I know, right? In my dreams.

  I hide these secrets under a stack of MILF porn I bought to throw your mom of the scent, keep her from digging underneath and finding my real truth,
but honestly, all I can think about is you. I don’t get off on that crap. It’s you, Faye. It’s always been you.

  The MILFs I fuck for money—it all makes me feel so empty. If you knew what I was doing, you’d hate me even more. But I can’t have you, Faye. I can’t have the one woman I want more than anything, so what should I care? I fuck women who pay me to do it, because I can’t have you.

  It’s not your fault, Faye. It’s mine. I’m broken.

  It’s just sex. They tell me I’m a good boy, when I know I’m a bad boy. They tell me they love me, but it doesn’t mean anything. Because the one woman I want to love me, hates me. Has to hate me. Keep hating me. Go find a good man who will love you, maybe, half as much as I do.

  Because I can’t.

  And I can’t help it.

  Faye heard a door slam downstairs.

  “Hey, smells good, what’s for dinner?” Evan. He was home.

  Her heart slammed in her chest as she closed the journal, locking it again and putting it in the bottom of the box. She arranged the DVDs the best she could. Why hadn’t she paid better attention to which had been on top? She hoped he didn’t keep track, wouldn’t notice. She couldn’t spend any more time on it.

  She put the box back under Evan’s bed and crept out of his room. She just made it to her room when she heard him coming up the stairs, whistling some tune.

  * * * *

  Evan didn’t talk to her at dinner and Faye didn’t look at him.

  She hardly ate anything—she hated corned beef and cabbage anyway—besides, she had graham crackers hidden up in her room to tide her over, even though her mom didn’t allow them to have food in their room. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, right?