Stepbrother With Benefits 3

  Stepbrother With Benefits 3

  Mia Clark

  Published by Cherrylily, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  STEPBROTHER WITH BENEFITS 3

  First edition. April 22, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Mia Clark.

  Written by Mia Clark.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Foreword

  Stepbrother With Benefits 3

  A Note from Mia

  About the Author

  Foreword

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  ~*~

  You can find all of the books in my Stepbrother With Benefits series on Amazon

  Stepbrother With Benefits series

  Stepbrother With Benefits 3

  *** Ethan

  Yeah, well, what do you want me to do? I was hungry, she was hungry, so we went to get some food. French fries to be specific.

  I drive us there, while Ashley just sits in the passenger seat, kind of calm, relaxed. She seems real chill right now, which I can get behind. It's nice. I've always thought of her as kind of uptight and snooty, but not in a bad way. It's just the way she is, just like I'm the way I am. That's not going to change. There's no reason for it to change.

  Right now she's just more... fuck if I know. She's got the window rolled down, the wind sweeping through her hair like we're driving along some country road, going camping for the weekend to get away from it all, just for a little bit. It's nice. It's how I like to feel all the time, but lately it's getting harder and harder. I can't explain that one; or, seriously, I don't want to explain it to you. This is my time, not yours.

  I pull up to the place and park our ride. I borrowed one of my dad's nicer cars, but nothing too fancy. We're here for french fries and to hang out, not get gaped at by a bunch of annoying kids who want to ask all sorts of stupid questions about the car. I like cars, alright? Yeah, they're cool, and sometimes they're cool as fuck, but I'm busy right now.

  I turn off the car and Ashley's just sitting there, not a care in the world. Yeah, that's probably my fault. It happens sometimes. After I give a girl explosive orgasms and amazing sex they sort of go into a daze. What can you do? I'm kind of proud of it, myself. Means I did it right.

  I get out, close the door, and walk around to her side. I open her door for her and hold out my hand. Finally she snaps out of it, but just barely. She stares at me, wide-eyed and confused, then reaches for my hand. I help her up and out of the car, then close the door behind her.

  "Did you just open the door for me?" she asks.

  "Yeah?" I say. What the fuck is that look on her face for?

  "I didn't know you did that kind of thing."

  "What kind of thing are you referring to?" I ask.

  "Um... the nice thing? Gentlemanly thing? I don't know."

  "Listen, Princess, I know you have some preconceptions about me, and yeah, I know I'm kind of a dick, or an asshole, or whatever, but I'm not all bad. Sometimes a guy has to open a door for a lady, and this was one of those times."

  She... well, what the fuck? She smiles and starts giggling. "Ethan Colton," she says, all sassy and sharp. "Did you just call me a lady?"

  "Ashley Banks," I say, miming her sass with some of my own. "Apparently you don't realize you're classy as fuck."

  "Nice," she says, rolling her eyes. "Real nice, Ethan."

  "Yeah, I have a way with words," I say.

  She smiles, then gives me a curtsey. Fuck, I love it. It's cute and classy, and it makes me hard. Yeah, maybe that's strange. I don't know. Every fucking thing she does seems to make me hard lately. It's like some pent up erection that's been building for...

  I don't know. Awhile. Go away. I'm busy.

  "Thank you," she says. "No one's ever opened a door for me like that before."

  "Yeah, well, I figured you needed it," I say. "You've been kind of out of it after out little pool table session. Orgasms do that sometimes."

  She blushes. Fuck, that's hot. Then she hits my shoulder, and looks all around. No one's here. It's just us in the parking lot. Even if someone saw us, so what? It's not like we're talking loud. No one can hear.

  And if they heard us? I don't know. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it would. I'll figure it out later.

  "Shhh," she says. "Ethan, I can't believe you said that."

  I shrug, nonchalant. "Just teasing you, Princess. What's a brother for, right?"

  She gives me another funny look, but this one is more confusing. What's she thinking? I think she's thinking about what I'm thinking and...

  Yeah, she really doesn't want to know. What I'm thinking is what it'd be like to spin her around, rip down her pants, and fuck her right here and now over the hood of the car. Obviously I'm not going to do that. I'm not that barbaric. I'll wait until we're back home and parked in the garage. Not exactly the same, but it'll have to do.

  "You want to go inside or just stand here chatting all day?" I ask.

  The look fades. A little. She still looks at me weird, but she gives in and smiles, too. "Alright," she says.

  We walk inside, seat ourselves at a booth, and wait for someone to come serve us.

  I even opened the restaurant door for her, too. Thought I could get a blush out of her or something. Fuel this raging hard-on trapped in my pants, give me something to look forward to later. But, nah, she does something even worse.

  No blushing, but she shakes her ass a little, giving me a show. Fuck, I can't do this. I can't fucking do this. I bite my lip to stop myself from doing anything out of line, but it's hard. It's real hard. Just a little... smack. How satisfying would that be?

  I don't know if Ashley knows this, but there's two things I find irrevocably sexy in a woman. I already told her the first one: it's class. Ashley is not trashy by any means, and she never has been. No, she doesn't come from a rich family like mine, even though she's kind of stuck in one now, but she's always had this air of sophistication about her that I've...

  Fuck you, I'm done with that shit.

  The second one rhymes with class, and she just showed me that one, too. Not that I haven't noticed it before, but I've had to restrain myself, you know? Fuck, this is my sister now.

  Stepsister. Is there a difference? Yeah, kind of, but barely.

  Anyways, class and ass. Two very admirable and arousing attributes. They both make me hard. So fucking hard.

  Why'd we go out to eat again? I wish we'd ordered in. I only have a week with her and I feel like I'm missing out. If my cock isn't buried deep inside her pussy, it's just a fucking waste.

  *** Ashley

  "Hey hun," the waitress says to me, then to Ethan, she adds, "Sweetie. What can I get for you two?"

  "French fries," Ethan says.

  "With gravy and curd cheese," I add.

  He gives me a curious look, then adds, "And sauteed mushrooms and green peppers on top."

  The waitress grins at our in sync ordering. "Anything to drink?"

  Ethan defers to me first. "Can I get um..." I hesitate, because I'm not sure how this is going to go, but I've wanted to do it ever since high school, and I feel like this is my only chance. "Can I get a root beer float?" I ask.

  "Sure thing," the waitress says, writing it down on her little notepad. "How about you? Maybe two straws for the float?"

  Ethan blinks, clearly caught off guard. "Yeah, maybe?" he says. "Sure. Can I get a
water with that, too."

  "Two straws and water," the waitress says, writing all of that down. "Anything else?"

  I shake my head, no. I think that's it, right? Ethan surprises me by saying, "A large steak and cheese bomb, too. Add pickles, mayo, and hot peppers to that."

  I lift one brow at him, but wait until the waitress leaves to put in our order before saying anything.

  "I thought we were just getting french fries?" I ask. "Are you hungry?"

  "You have no fucking idea," he says, staring at me. The way he says it and the way he stares, well...

  He's not talking about food, is he? I catch him staring at my breasts, even though I'm just wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Nothing special, nothing all that attractive, but the way Ethan's looking at me I feel like...

  Like his Princess. Like I'm the only thing he sees. Like we're the only two people in this building, maybe the only two people in the city, or the world, or the entire universe.

  I blush and look away, but when I look back he's still staring at me the same as he was before.

  "Ethan..." I say, whispered. I'm not sure what else to say, though. It's not like I can um... explain? There's people sitting all around us, and I know they'd hear me.

  "Yeah?" he says, oblivious. I don't know if it's intentional or not, but if I had to guess I'd say it is.

  I take a risk. I don't know why. Maybe someone can see us. We have a large booth big enough for four, maybe six people for a tight squeeze. I scoot as far in as I can, and use my eyes to kind of direct him to do the same. He grins and moves over, like this is our shared secret. Which, it is, but I've got more to share with him, too.

  I kick one of my shoes off, leaving my foot bare except for my thin socks, then I tap at his foot. Casual and smooth, he glances down quick, but then looks back up at me, nothing doing. I go further, stretching my leg out and up, teasing up along his jeans, towards his knee, and then I fake a yawn to make it easier to stretch and lean back a little.

  My daring, risky foot slides onto the seat bench, then between Ethan's legs, further still until...

  Oh my God he has an erection. Ethan Colton, my darling stepbrother, who really should not have an erection right now, um... well, he does. And my foot is touching it. Massaging it even. He rests one elbow on the table, keeping his hand up and propping his chin on it, but the other goes under, to his lap. He grabs my foot by the ankle, holding me in place.

  Well, um... that didn't exactly go according to plan. Not that I had a plan to begin with, but now I'm stuck here, my foot in his crotch, his cock hard and ready, with my toes teasing and toying with his erection.

  And, um... I kind of like it?

  I grow bold, because what else can I do.

  "I'm glad we're back home," he says, acting like we aren't doing something insane right now.

  "Are you really?" I ask. "Because we've never really hung out before now."

  "Nah, that's not true," he says.

  "Ethan, it's kind of true. You only used to spend time with me when we were doing family things with all of us together, me and Mom and you and your Dad."

  "And it was nice," he says.

  "It was nice," I agree. "I just always got the feeling that you'd rather be doing something else instead. You never really seemed like you wanted to be there."

  "It's complicated," he says.

  I'm still massaging his cock with my foot, but I belatedly realize he's not holding my ankle anymore. I could pull back, I could go back to normal, but...

  Well, what fun would that be? Yes, I'm a good girl, but I want to be a little bad for once. Just for now, just for this week. It's not going to hurt anything, right?

  Anything, I think. Yes, maybe not. Anyone, though?

  I've seen it happen before. A lot. Once my mom married Ethan's dad, I got more of an up close and personal view of it, too. Ethan hurt a lot of girls. I don't know if he meant to, but does that make it any better? Everyone knows how he is. Everyone. He sleeps with girls, and by all accounts they think he's amazing.

  For a week or two.

  And then he stops calling them, doesn't answer their calls, either. No more texts. If he sees them in public, he just sort of brushes them off. Says that it's over, he's got other things to do. I remember one girl from our class coming to his dad's mansion late at night, crying and banging on the door. I was supposed to be asleep, but I snuck out and listened from the top of the stairs.

  Ethan's dad told my mom that this wasn't the first time this has happened. My mom offered to talk to the girl for a little while before bringing her home. I'm not sure if Ethan's dad liked that idea or not, but my mom did it anyways. They went into the den to sit down, and then I couldn't hear them anymore so I started to tiptoe back to my room, and...

  I saw him. Ethan. He was at his door, just standing there, watching me. As soon as I saw him, he just... he looked at me. Not happy, not sad, just stared at me. Then he stepped back into his room without a word and closed the door behind him. A second later I heard the lock click shut, trapping him inside.

  I think I hated him. I think I've always hated him, but I don't know for sure.

  That night, I wasn't sure if I did or not. He looked so indifferent and... maybe not hateful in an active and aggressive way, but more in an indifferent and passive way. Uncaring, I guess is a better way to explain it, but hate is hate, regardless.

  I just never could figure out who Ethan hated. A part of me has always wondered if maybe he hates himself for what he does?

  Obviously that's stupid. I have no right to judge him. I'm attending college for English with a specialization in historical texts, not Psychology.

  I've just always felt like there's more to Ethan Colton, but I don't know what.

  Right now there's a lot more, and currently it's twitching and throbbing as I rub my foot against it.

  "You alright?" Ethan asks. "You look kind of out of it."

  "Oh, um... I'm just thinking," I say.

  I don't know if I want to explain to him or not, so I redouble my efforts on his crotch. I tease up his shaft with my toes and the side of my foot, then around to the other side. It's a little hard, what with his pants keeping him confined, but that makes it fun, too. A little hard? No, um... Ethan is very hard right now.

  For me. He told me this before, but I found it difficult to believe. Now, though? Um... I'm definitely becoming a believer.

  "Why did you make me pancakes?" I ask.

  He gives me a weird look, but I see something more in his eyes. Something telling, but I don't know what exactly it means.

  "I was hungry," he says. "I was just making breakfast."

  "No you weren't," I say. "You could have just made eggs and sausage, but you made pancakes, too."

  He glares at me, almost angry, but not quite. "I just wanted to make some fucking pancakes," he says.

  "You didn't make them because they're my favorite?" I ask.

  "What the fuck do I care what your favorite breakfast is?" he says.

  I press my foot hard into his crotch, teasing him even more, though um... maybe a bit rougher than I should.

  Ethan's nostrils flare and he glares at me harder. "Stop asking questions like that," he says.

  "No," I say, petulant. "I won't. Also, why did you offer to have a night in with me last night? Why did you..."

  I'm not sure what I want to say. The drinking? Well, we're both underage, and we're in public, so... but also the sex? The dare? Why did he agree to my dare? I wouldn't have held him to it. I don't want him to quit football or anything. We were both tipsy, so...

  "You looked like you needed to get shitface drunk," he says. "And I needed someone to drink with. Would be fucked up if I did it alone, don't you think?"

  "Ethan!" I hiss at him.

  "No one fucking cares about two rich kids drinking at home, Princess. Get a fucking life."

  Why's he being so rude all of a sudden? I don't know, but I intend to put a stop to it right here
and now!

  If he's going to make our underage drinking public, I'm going to... well, not exactly, but...

  "Rule number twelve," I say, caressing his cock with my foot while I speak. "You can't be mean to me. Not for this entire week."

  He smirks. "I know you think that's cute and funny," he says. "You're forgetting who I am, though. You think I care about your rules?"

  I want to kick him. In the balls. And I could. Right here and now. I'd have some explaining to do to someone, and I might not have a ride home after since I'm pretty sure Ethan would get up, get in the car, and leave me here, but...

  "You will," I say to him. I'm not sure if I'm calling his bluff or just stating a fact. "Ethan, I just want to know. Rule number seven, right?"

  He furrows his brow, so I add, "It's the no lying one."

  "I think that rule was specifically for you, Princess," he says, but the tone of his voice is uncertain and unsure, like maybe he doesn't believe what he's saying.

  I think the rule was supposed to be for me, too, but I want it to be for him, as well.

  "Rule number thirteen," I say, as confidently as I can. "All of the rules should apply to both of us evenly."

  He grins, cocksure and confident. This is the Ethan I know. Well, the Ethan I know is also a prick, so him being a jerk before was kind of also the Ethan I know. It's just... I feel like the Ethan from the past couple of days is different. I feel like I know two of him now, two entirely different ones, and...

  I don't know which is the real one. I'm not sure if there is a real one. Maybe I'm giving him too much credit and I'm wrong about a lot of what's going on.

  "How's that going to work with rule number eleven?" he asks.

  Eleven? Oh, um...

  I blush, but I tease at his cock with my foot even more, goading him on. "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" I ask, as seductive as I can. I hope it came out right. I hope he thinks it's sexy. I...

  Our waitress comes back with our food. She places the large root beer float glass between us, two straws dangling out the top, one pointing at me and the other at Ethan. Then she places our fries down, too. Two empty plates to go along with them. Ethan gets another plate for his steak and cheese bomb, which... oh God, it smells and looks amazing. To top it all off, the waitress reaches into her apron and gives us both a set of utensils wrapped up in paper napkins.