Hard: A Step-Brother Romance (3 page)

“I
want you to fuck me until I forget my name,” she whispered.

I
did too, but not for the same reason. I grabbed her hips and shoved her down my
entire shaft. She moaned for me.

She’d
be hoarse by the end of the night. I grinned.

“Let
me show you how I earned this nickname.”

Who
served shrimp puffs at a funeral?

The
Franklin family.

White
linens in a reception hall? A lowered disco ball that played the Funky Chicken
during the invocation?

The
Franklin family.

The
DJ pumping mad hymns while the choir two-stepped?

Yep.
Franklins.

Or
what was left of us.

The
last few members of my family now included two cantankerous great aunts, a
couple distant cousins who let their kids play tag around the coffin, and my
sketchy uncle who liked to give people hugs for a few seconds too long.

At
least they were
distant
relatives. Ever since Momma died, I survived on
my own, without gossiping cousins or the wrath of Great Aunt Ruth’s cane. I
managed so far alone, and I handled myself perfectly fine. The only tough time was
Christmas, but it wasn’t like Dad had been around anyway. The gift delivered by
his secretary didn’t count, not while he was off enjoying his
new
family.

To
make it easier, we split the unused reception materials between the funerals.
Dad’s bride-to-be, a woman I never had the chance to meet, was laid out the day
before him. Her sisters arranged everything, including first dibs on the
wedding supplies.
She
got the flowers
and
coffee. Even worse.
They swiped all the cutlery too.

We,
of course, had the wedding soup.

So,
after an hour of slurping through mugs of reheated broth and meatballs, the funeral
director ran to Walmart, found spoons, and we cut the wedding-turned-wake cake.

Which
was weird.

We removed
the little figurine toppers at least. And, in someone’s foresight, they tugged
the fondant off and scribbled condolences on the top layer in the darkest
aqua-marine icing gel they could find.

Sorry
For Your
Lots
Loss

It
worked for our purposes.

Champagne
wasn’t appropriate, but neither was the extended family dropping wedding gifts
by the casket like Dad was some sort of Egyptian Homeware Pharaoh taking
toasters and expresso machines to the afterlife.  Just another headache to send
back with ridiculously involved explanations.
Yes, we’re having a funeral…I
guess you can bring your +1 if you really want
.

About
the only thing that kept me level-headed and calm during the whole ordeal was
the one completely wild and unpredictable night I had earlier in the week.

Zach
Harden.

Oh,
sweet merciful Jesus, he was a beautiful
mistake
.

I knew
he would be a perfect blending of pride and shame. I realized it as soon as he
flashed that bad boy grin. I felt it in my core when our hands brushed. The
mistake seared forever into my memory the instant our lips touched in that bar.

We
crossed six blocks to his apartment in record time, collapsed on the bed, and our
instincts took over. Our night was one animalistic, wild experience so crazy I
didn’t recognize half of the things I demanded of him. Kiss me here. Touch me
there.  Fuck me
where
?

When
I was little, Gran used to swoon and beseech Jesus’s mercy when she came across
something that offended her sensibilities. I wished I had the luxury of
fainting to avoid thinking of the contorted and sinful acts we committed.

Instead,
I had to look myself in the mirror and admit—yes, I
did
love every
minute of it, even if I could never tell another soul what a freak I was.

At
least my first and last one-night stand was the best night of my life. And
thank God it’d be the
last time I saw him.

I
didn’t get his number. I could never face him again. Not after what we did. How
he took me. How I reacted…
multiple
times, hoarding orgasms like I
stockpiled canned goods for an apocalypse.

I
exhaled. I didn’t have time to worry about my wild indiscretions…of which there
were
many
. The wake concluded, and my relatives claimed their
centerpieces—won from a very morbid game of
who has the birthday closest to
the funeral
. My feet ached, but I had one last errand before I could plunk
them down in a bubble bath.

I
buzzed over my apartment, grabbing a respectable skirt, sensible pantyhose, and
a modest blouse. They cloaked me like a schoolmarm but the outfit did not
reveal that I was a wide-eyed harlot who let a stranger have his way with her.

Three
times. Or was it
four?

Well,
one
of those ways couldn’t be classified like the others.

But
people couldn’t tell that a nice young lady did those sorts of things.

…Could
they?

It wasn’t
like I was wearing a sign that read
Ask me where I put a stranger’s penis.
No one ever had to know. Still, I styled my hair in a low ponytail to manage
the curls that took too much influence from my newfound free-spirit. Then I changed
into a pair less-racy panties. Once I felt innocent enough, I head to the
last
place I wanted to go so soon after the funeral.

The
family lawyer’s office.

I was
only twenty-one. Sometimes I forgot it, especially after taking care of Momma
when she was too traumatized by her and Dad’s separation to function. I loved
her to bits, but I’d never let a man rip out my heart like Dad did to her.

All his
money and gifts didn’t help heal me or Momma. I saw how it ruined a good wife,
and I experienced how it hurt a daughter. I wanted nothing to do with Dad after
he left us, and where did I end up?

Front
row and center to his will, earning a posthumous apology from a cold letter.
Too little too late. My family wasn’t just broken. We voided the warranty.

“Come
on in, Shay.” My father’s accountant shook my hand. William was an older man
with a waistline that grew as quickly as the hair in his eyebrows. He sported a
gold Rolex on his wrist. No doubt one of Dad’s gifts. “Thanks for coming on
such short notice. The sooner we get this settled, the better.”

“Of
course.” I agreed even though I didn’t have a clue what to expect. After Momma
died, the only things of hers I settled was finally throwing out her creepy
little salt and pepper shakers in the shape of demonic-looking children. I never
dealt with wills or trusts or money. “Let’s get started.”

“Can
I get you coffee?”

“No
thanks,” I said. “I think we’ll be in and out pretty quickly.”

At
least I knew how to bluff, even when I was supremely uncomfortable. I didn’t
want any of this. My goal in life was to make it through college, find a nice
teaching job, and be a force of stability for the kids I taught. I’d be that
someone who would listen to them, help them, and comfort them, especially if
they didn’t have it at home.

Instead?
I faced the attorney instrumental in my parents’ divorce. Still, I smiled as I stared
at the listing of assets Dad hid to avoid alimony.

To
my surprise, most of Dad’s fortune was in a trust for
me
. I never asked
how much I was set to inherit if only because it sent Momma into a spiral, calling
on the Lord to cast the devil of greed out of me. But I knew I’d be more than
comfortable, especially since Dad was good with his money and investments.

“Shay,”
William took my hand, though the southern gentleman was just consoling himself.
“Let me tell you, I am so sorry for your loss.”

This
particular one, or when Dad originally ran out on us when I was thirteen?

I
nodded anyway. “Thanks. I know he was your friend.”

“A
good one. The world lost a good man.”

If
he said so.

“So,
uh.” William shuffled a couple papers on his desk. “I don’t know how much your dad
told you about his estate and how he planned to have it managed after his
death.”

“I know
he has a trust for me.”

“Oh,
yes. The trust is set to release on your college graduation. That is definitely
secure.”

I frowned.
Why wouldn’t it be secure?

“But
I’m talking about the rest of your father’s assets. His personal fortune,
investments, land holdings, new house.”

“New
house?”

William
folded his hands. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt. “Okay, Shay, I know
your father hasn’t really…been in contact with you lately. But believe me, he meant
for this to be a second chance. He wanted to start a new family and include you
in it. He loved you very much. He made sure you would be entitled to so much.
And, Shay…there’s more than you think.”

“Okay,”
I said. “What exactly are you talking about?”

“Your
father recently purchased a new estate just outside of Atlanta.” William
shifted. “A rather…large estate.”

“How
large?”

“About
twenty-five million dollars’ worth.”

Oh.

My.

God.

“Dad
had that much?”

William
cleared his throat. “Your father had some
considerable
holdings. A
couple very recent investments that worked in his favor.”

“O-kay?”

“Just
before his death, he was worth over a billion dollars.”

And
now
I knew what Gran meant about swooning. I gripped the chair, but even its arms couldn’t
hold me up.

First
the best sex of my life and then I inherited a
billion
dollars?

Jesus,
I had good weeks before, but that was the result of a nice haircut and no eight
AM finals, not becoming a modern day princess!

My
stomach did a victory dance…but the rest of my body didn’t recognize the steps.
I leaned over and gulped as much air as I could get. That only made it worse.
William panicked, raking through the mini-fridge beside his desk until he found
his lunch. He cast the Chipotle burrito aside and handed me the paper bag.

I
breathed in, crinkled the bag, spat out the receipt, and tried to calm down.

A
billion dollars.

Dad
had a
billion
dollars.

I’d
pop the damn bag and rip it to shreds if I didn’t breathe fire first.

“Dad
had a
billion
dollars and my mother lived downtown
alone
in a two
bedroom apartment for years?”

William
grimaced. “He offered your mother quite a bit of money—most of which she
refused. And he made sure you had everything you needed while you were growing
up.”

Sure,
everything I needed except a father! Someone to hug me after school, to ground
me that one time Momma found a pack of cigarettes stuffed under my mattress, to
teach me to drive the car he gave me. He sent me to a fancy prep school but never
once came to a play, science fair, or graduation. Dad never remembered my
birthday either, he was always a year and two weeks late.

I
spent my teenage years hating him, but he only cared when
he
decided to
edge into my life. By then it was too late. I created excuse after excuse not
to see him. College homework. Finals. Group assignments. Rush—and I wasn’t even
in a sorority.

Now
he was dead.

And
I was inheriting the vast fortunate of a man I hardly knew.

Did
I deserve it? Hell no. Did he deserve me?
Absolutely not
.

“Shay.”
William pushed a pair of glasses up his nose and studied the paperwork. “I know
things were tense within your home, but your father wanted the best for you,
always did. That’s why he made sure the family would be taken care of after he was
gone.”

“My father
never wanted a family.”

“That’s
not true. He very much wanted a family. And he loved you with every beat of his
heart, but he never knew how to show it. And, with what happened with your
mother…well…”