Dont bang your stepbro, p.1
Don't Bang Your Stepbro, page 1
DON’T BANG YOUR STEPBRO
RULES WE BREAK #3
DJ JAMISON
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
THANK YOU FOR READING!
About the Author
BOOKS BY DJ JAMISON
Copyright 2023 DJ Jamison
Published by Must Love Books
Cover design by Morningstar Ashley
Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
CHAPTER 1
WES
I woke slowly with a smile on my face. Crisp sheets laid cool against my skin, and a warm body rested under my right arm.
Hell, yeah. I must have hooked up last night.
I scooted a little closer, still only half awake, but my cock fully engaged as it rubbed up against the hard ass in front of me. I skated my right hand over firm abs. Damn, I must have picked up an athlete. For half a second, my mind flickered with a confused reel of images. Bars that were decidedly not located in my hometown of Granville. Colorful shots. Flashing lights. Poker chips…
That’s right. We’re in Vegas, baby!
I thrust my hips a bit more enthusiastically at the thought of a smoking hot pickup in the city of sin and slid my hand up to find…hard, muscled chest?
Huh?
A low groan echoed through the hotel room. In a voice I recognized.
Oh, shit. Beckett!
I scrambled back so fast I nearly fell out of the bed. The one I was sharing with my stepbrother, instead of the female hookup I’d expected.
Beckett turned in time to see me mid-flail, eyes squinted against the light pouring through the gap in the blackout curtains. “Were you just feeling me up?”
“Oops?”
“Oops?” Beckett echoed, sounding incredulous.
“I thought you were a hookup.” I glanced across the room to the second unmade bed. My bed. “Why am I sleeping here?”
“Probably because you spilled most of the bottle of champagne you insisted on bringing back here last night.”
“Champagne?” I grimaced. “Why the hell would I…”
I trailed off as memory flickered. It was a bit fragmented, but the pieces were all there.
Gambling with Beck. Winning a couple of hundred dollars and celebrating hard. Coming across a gay bar by accident and laughing about it before deciding to dance together because, what the hell, we weren’t homophobes who were afraid to let their swords bump and grind.
At some point, Laurie texted, telling us not to do anything he and Tucker wouldn’t do. About twenty years ago, they’d gotten married secretly, and to my drunk-ass brain, it had sounded like the greatest idea ever. The prank of all pranks.
After a quick break to puke in the bar bathroom—which was probably the only thing that kept me functional enough to make it anywhere else—Beck and I had grabbed an Uber. There were some stops we made I didn’t remember, the last one…it was a doozy. We ended up at a twenty-four-hour chapel.
My prank was supposed to stop with some pics and a joke to freak out our friends, but…
“Ohhh fuck!” Beckett exclaimed beside me in the bed we never should have shared. “Why is there cum dried to my abs?” I looked up just in time to see his eyes widen in horror. “And a ring on my finger! What the fuck? What. The. FUCK!”
“Don’t panic.”
“Too fucking late, Wes! Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
“Uh…I don’t know what you think it is,” I hedged.
“Well, I think I’m wearing cum and a wedding ring, and the only one here with me is you.” He grabbed my hand and lifted it to eye level. “And you’re wearing a ring too.”
“Surprise?” I said with a weak grin. “I guess we got a little wild last night.”
He laughed, sounding slightly unhinged. “A wild night is partying with strippers, Wes! It’s not…not…this! You’re not supposed to bang your stepbro, man!”
“Well, hey, at least we got married first?”
Beckett grasped his hair. “Ah, Christ, we’re dead. Dad is gonna kill us. Well, no, he’ll kill me. You’ll be fine, but I’ll be out of the family, out of a job. We’re supposed to be brothers, not—not—”
His breathing went haywire, his body was shaking, and it was clear that Beckett was losing his shit.
“Hey,” I said softly. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”
I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against me. He resisted for thirty seconds, tense and vibrating, before he collapsed against my chest with a shuddering breath. “We’re fucked,” he murmured, his breath brushing over my right nipple.
My cock hadn’t gone down, despite the fucked-up news I’d married my stepbro. Not to mention whatever else had happened. I squirmed, trying to will it away, and Beckett looked up at me, face pale, eyes big and vulnerable. “What are we gonna do?”
I don’t know what possessed me just then. My desire to comfort Beckett? The knowledge that we might have already messed around last night? My hard dick, which despite a hetero appetite for most of my life, didn’t really care that it was my stepbrother in my arms?
Whatever the reason, I dipped down and kissed him.
Beckett’s lips parted with a gasp as I brushed my lips softly over his, more of a request than a demand. He leaned into the kiss with a small noise that sounded almost like a question. I answered by running my tongue along his bottom lip, then taking it one step further, giving in to the urge to taste him.
In an instant, we caught fire. Beckett climbed into my lap, still kissing me, mouth eager and wet. So hot I thought I’d incinerate. When he settled his weight on my aching cock, both of us naked under the sheet, I groaned and kissed him even harder.
Beckett’s hands were all over me: in my hair, scratching along my flanks, squeezing my pecs. I responded by grabbing his bare ass and squeezing. Then parting his cheeks, my cock skimming through the cleft of his ass and prodding his hole.
We both snapped back to reality at the same time.
Beckett jerked back so fast he fell off my lap, then flung himself to the side to grab a pillow and slam it over his lap. I’d already seen his cock, as hard as mine, long and slim and flushed a dark pink.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked, eyes wide and dark.
“Well, it is our honeymoon,” I joked weakly, not knowing what else to say.
Beckett’s eyes turned murderous, and he gave up on modesty to whack me with the pillow. Right in the face. Then again, knocking me from the bed. He followed to the edge of the bed, continuing to whack me. “This.” Whack. “Is.” Whack. “Not.” Whack. “A joke!”
I caught the pillow and flung it away. When he continued to come after me, lunging forward, I grabbed his shoulders and wrestled him back onto the bed. Beckett struggled, which only brought every part of our bodies into contact, rubbing and grinding until I was panting with more than just exertion.
“Calm down,” I ordered. “I know it’s not a joke, okay? I know!”
His chest heaved, but he stopped straining against my hold. “W-why did you…”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question without exposing a part of myself I’d been trying to shut down the past few months. Beckett was my stepbrother and a man. He was everything I wasn’t supposed to want.
But being so close to him, naked, married. That was an adrenaline hit.
It was standing on the edge of a cliff with only a cord between me and death. It was standing in the open doorway of a plane, ready to jump.
It was betting everything on one hand in a game of poker, the gamble of a lifetime.
So I answered truthfully and hoped it didn’t ruin everything.
“We already made the fuckup of all fuckups, so I just figured…why not enjoy the honeymoon? I mean, we probably messed around last night, and I don’t know about you, but I want to at least remember how it feels.”
It seemed inevitable, really, after all the months of wishing away the urge to get closer to him. From the moment I’d witnessed our first set of male friends kiss, I’d wondered: What would it be like to kiss Beck like that?
It’d be wrong, I’d told myself. I liked women. So did he. And we were brothers, not lovers.
And yet…the thoughts hadn’t gone away. The curiosity had shifted to d esire. A craving that just wouldn’t quit.
I hadn’t thought it would lead to us getting married.
But here we were.
Beck stared at me, lips parted, shock written across his face. “I didn’t think you were into guys.”
“Neither are you, but…”
“You’re different,” he whispered.
“You’re different too.”
Beck moved suddenly, as if to escape me, and I released his wrists, not wanting to restrain him. His hips bucked, he shoved my shoulder, and suddenly he was the one on top, pinning me. He shifted his hips, dragging his cock along mine, and a ragged moan escaped me.
He stilled for a moment, and I thought he’d end the heat beginning to boil over between us, but then his mouth slammed down on mine, filthy wet and desperate.
“Yes, fuck,” I gasped between kisses, bucking my hips up to meet his, the sweat between us deliciously slippery. “Give it to me, Beck. I want it.”
“Y-you r-really want me?” he stuttered, sounding stunned. He was breathing hard, body writhing deliciously on top of my dick. My brain was all but melted in my head, but his eyes seemed so desperate for an answer, I wanted to give him a good one.
“Hell yeah, I want you,” I gasped out. “Want you to bust all over me, man. Fall apart for me. Give me everything you’ve got because you’re mine.”
“Damn,” he whispered, shuddering.
Beckett still held my wrists, but he wasn’t holding me in place so much as just holding me. I broke loose and grabbed his ass, rocking him against me more forcefully, chasing the climax that was just out of reach.
He moaned into the crook of my neck, heat blooming between our bellies, and the knowledge that he’d come all over my body was enough to catapult me into orgasm.
As I came back to my senses, Beckett’s gaze met mine again. There was so much love in his eyes that it stole my breath away. But it didn’t last. Between one blink and the next, Beckett’s light went out.
“We can’t do this, Wes. The family…”
“I think we just did.”
“I’m serious,” he said, peeling himself off my body so quickly that the cold swept in and made me shiver. “We have to undo this marriage and hope like hell that no one ever finds out we were so stupid.”
Each word was a small dagger to the heart, but I knew he was right. We were supposed to be brothers, not lovers.
Not husbands.
But for a minute there, it had almost felt possible.
BECKETT
I soaped up in the shower, mind spinning out with memories of Wes’s big, strong body under and over mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hands on my ass. Damn, but we’d been hot together.
And wrong.
We shouldn’t have crossed that boundary. Bad enough we’d gotten freaking married. At least that could be undone.
But this… There was no undoing this.
Guilt flickered. Wes thought we’d already had sex last night, but I remembered now why I’d woken with cum dried on me, and Wes hadn’t put it there.
It was embarrassing, really, but while Wes had puked his guts out in a club bathroom last night from drinking too much, I’d been one stall over, clumsily jerking off from getting so hot and bothered while dancing with him.
Wes had banged on the stall door right as I’d started to come, startling me enough that I’d managed to come all over my stomach. Luckily, I’d pulled up my shirt, or I’d have really been a mess. I’d hastily mopped up, though clearly not enough, to join him on our wild night of Vegas adventure.
Which is where everything had gone sideways, because I’d suggested we get married for real.
Yeah, me. I was the reason we were in this predicament.
I didn’t know how to tell Wes. He’d wanted to pull a prank on our friends for laughs. I was the one who’d suggested it would be a lot more convincing if we actually got married. This was my fault.
Wes might have wanted to fuck around this morning, figuring the damage was done, but my feelings were more complicated than that. I’d been fighting the itch under my skin, the craving to get closer, to touch him, to claim him, for at least two years.
I’d dated women, had a few relationships, but nothing ever stuck because I was closer to Wes than anyone else in my life. We worked together, lived together, hung out together. Thankfully, Wes had always been oblivious to my confused attraction. But now? After being able to touch him the way I’d wanted for so long? I didn’t know how I’d ever manage to go back to just being his brother.
And that’s exactly what I had to do.
“Fuck!” Wes cursed from the next room.
He’d let me shower first, telling me he’d charge our phones while I cleaned up. We’d let our batteries die last night, too drunk to remember to plug them in.
My stomach clenched.
There was only one reason for him to be swearing up a storm right now. People must know what we did.
Not all of it. Not the sex part, but…
I glanced down at the ring on my finger, such a simple little piece of metal with such big ramifications. Did everyone know I’d married my stepbrother? How would I ever live that down?
I pushed aside the shower curtain. “Wes? Everything okay?”
He didn’t answer me, and I couldn’t stand the suspense. I grabbed a towel and rushed out of the bathroom, still dripping.
“What’s wrong? Does everyone know?”
“I don’t want you to panic,” he said slowly, eyes still locked on his phone.
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is. Come on, just rip off the Band-Aid and tell me so I can deal with it.”
Wes finally looked up. For a moment, his gaze caught on my body, making me aware of my nakedness in a way I hadn’t been around him before. We lived in a small trailer, so it wasn’t like we hadn’t seen each other half-naked before. I’d seen Wes walking around in nothing but form-fitting boxer briefs more times than I could count. The man hated clothes and shucked them the instant he was home.
It had stopped feeling brotherly a while ago for me, but I’d never seen blatant appreciation in his gaze before.
It was almost enough to distract me from the suspicion that the honeymoon was about to come to an end.
“They don’t know,” Wes said, surprising me. “Not for sure.”
I crossed the room and plucked the phone from his hand to look for myself. There was a video. Stomach churning, I hit the play button.
“Listen up, Laurie and Tuck!” I shouted from the screen, a huge drunken grin on my face.
“And all the rest of you Granville suckers who aren’t in Vegas, baby!” Wes added, then whooped for good measure.
“You said not to do anything you wouldn’t do…” The me on the screen panned the video to display a chapel in the background.
“Oh, no,” I muttered to myself as I watched.
Wes—the Wes with me in the hotel room—wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in against his face in a hug that made my stomach flutter despite the train wreck I was watching online.
Video-Wes laughed like a loon. “You’re not the only ones who can get married in secret!”
Video-Beckett swatted his arm. “Shhhh! It’s not a secret if you tell everyone.”
“Oh. OH. Right!” Wes gave an exaggerated wink. “We totally aren’t getting married in Vegas.”
The video cut off.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“See? It’s not so bad.”
I looked down at Wes, eyes wide. “Not so bad? We basically told everyone we were getting married!”
He grimaced. “Yeah, but we hadn’t done it yet, and we were drunk and silly. We can play it off as a prank. That’s what we told Laurie in his text, right? It’d be an epic prank. That’s all it has to be.”
