HUGE X3: A MFMM Menage Stepbrother Romance (36 page)

Huge – A Stepbrother Romance

I didn’t mean to see it.

It’s his fault for leaving his door open while he
was getting changed.

I've seen my
stepbrothers gorgeous, ripped body before, and have been half in love with him
since he moved into my house.
 
He’s cocky
and sexy and when he calls me princess I want to punch him in the mouth.

But I’ve
never seen a d*
ck
that big, and now that I have, I
can’t seem to think of anything else.

I want him,
but crossing the line could risk the happiness of our new home.

Harrison
would never make the first move, so I guess I’m going to have to find a way.

And the
masked Halloween party at his best friend’s house seems like too good an
opportunity to pass up.

HUGE is a
14,000 word
novelette, suitable for 18+ readers who like it
EXTRA LARGE!

Excerpt

Chapter
1

Confessions

My
name is Jenna and I’m a pervert.
 
Well,
not really, at least not purposefully.
 
I
place all the blame on my stepbrother, Harrison, for leaving his bedroom door
ajar whilst he was changing.
 
I mean, he
knows I’m in the house and that there’s a chance I might be upstairs.
 
And I guess I should put some of it down to
fate or karma or whatever, for sending me walking passed at just the right
moment to see his amazing naked body full frontal.
 

That
chest.
 

Those abs.
 

Gloriously
smooth tan skin and the little happy trail leading down from his navel to areas
I’ve tried never to think about before.
 
I mean, we have a pool in our back yard so it’s not like I’ve never seen
him in swimwear, but baggy board shorts still cover a lot.

Maybe
I shouldn’t have been looking into his room as I passed.
 
I guess I’m guilty of that.
 
He deserves his privacy, I suppose.
 
But if he valued it that much he wouldn’t
have been toweling himself dry where anyone could walk passed and see his cock
in all its glory, would he?
 
And glorious
it was too.
 

I’m
no virgin but I’ve never seen a dick like that before.
 
Even hanging like it was it looked like it
had a life of its own.
 
Long and straight
and thick as my forearm.
 
Perfectly
smooth and tan like the skin on the rest of his body.
 
And everything so neatly trimmed too.
 

Fuck,
I’m salivating just thinking about it and my poor neglected
fuffie
is all hot and bothered.
 
It’s been a few
couple of months since I decided that my ex, Bradley, wasn’t doing anything for
me that I couldn’t do for myself.
 
All
that boring talk about football killed any feelings I had for him.
 
On our last date I got close to stuffing my
ears with chunks of bread roll to block out his drone.

But
Harrison’s not like that.
 
We’ve only
been living in the same house for a year, since our parents finally decided
that their three years of dating was indeed true love and tied the knot.
 
It was strange at first to be waking up in
the same household as such a gorgeous slice of manhood, but I was with Bradley
at the time so I tried not to feel attracted to my new stepbrother.
 
The trouble is, in addition to being a total
hottie
, Harrison is also really funny, and interesting, and
caring, and now that I’m single I can admit to having a total crush on
him.
 

Does
it count as a crush when you think about someone all the time and wish like
hell they weren’t related to you by marriage?
 
Does it count as a crush when your heart hurts a little bit each time
you see them with another girl, even when they aren’t dating?
 

I
think it might be more than a crush.

Want to read
more.
 
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SPARKED: A Bad Boy
Rockstar
Romance

Will he rock my world or break
my heart?

Amber:

When my roommate dragged me to
a dive bar, I couldn’t wait to leave.

Then *he* started hitting on me.

Yeah, he's impossibly sexy,
but he's really not my type.

He's pushy and cocky and a
total player.

Did I mention he sings in a
rock band?

And has women screaming his
name whenever he's onstage?

If I get involved with him,
he’ll break my heart.

But maybe it’s worth the pain.

Aidan:

I don’t want to hurt Amber … I
want to fuck her until she screams.

Relationships aren’t my style,
but I can give her memories to last a lifetime.

Big, hard, unstoppable
memories.

That's my plan ... until I
find out she's a good girl.

Definitely not my type.

I should be running as fast as
I can.

Not going back for more.

PREVIEW

My story begins like all the
truly classic romances. It’s Saturday night and I’m being dragged by my
overbearing roommate to a dive bar crammed full of obnoxiously drunk losers.

Thrilling, right? I really
should be studying, but Megan is nothing if not persistent. So I squeezed into
a short skirt and took time to put on makeup, though now I wish I hadn’t
bothered.

It’s not very late when we get
there, but the crowd already seems half wasted. People are yelling, jostling
for space at the bar; it feels like a fight could break out any moment. I’m not
looking for romance, but if I was in the market for a guy this is the last
place I’d choose.

I pull Megan close and yell
into her ear, “This is where you hang out on the weekends?”

“Stay right here,” she yells
back. “I’ll get us some drinks!”

She starts pushing her way
through the crowd. I stay near the wall, trying to hold onto a little personal
space. There’s a band playing on a small stage on the other side of the room,
though no one’s paying them much attention. I listen for a few moments and
realize everyone else is right to ignore them.

Maybe I can get away with
leaving after one drink ... but that won’t satisfy Megan. She thinks I’m
missing out on the full college experience. Honestly, with all the time I’ve
been spending at the library, this rowdy place is a shock to my system. If this
is the full college experience, I’m okay with being a little bit deprived.

I don’t expect the hand on my
shoulder. Megan’s back already?

I turn, and instead of my
roommate I’m faced with a stunning man. Dark hair, sexy as hell, with eyes that
I can’t look away from. I blink, not certain my imagination hasn’t conjured him
up. He’s not much taller than me, but broad and solid — and standing squarely
inside my personal space.

Even though he has my
attention — boy, does he have it — he doesn’t move his hand from my arm. “Do
you need a drink?” he asks. He’s holding a beer bottle, and I can smell it on
his breath when he leans close to make himself heard.

I shake my head and give him a
half smile to thank him for his offer. His dark eyes penetrate mine and I’m
mesmerized, unable to look away.

He doesn’t return my smile.
I’m not even sure he blinks. And he’s still touching my shoulder.

“Are you here alone?” He leans
in closer still, and I finally manage to break eye contact. Aside from his
undeniably beautiful face, he’s really not my type. His hair is messy, his
jeans are torn, and his shirt is open halfway down his chest.

I shake my head, then add,
“With a friend.” I turn my head to look at his hand, which hasn’t moved, the
heat of him burning through the thin fabric of my sleeve. I would typically be
telling a guy to get his hands off me at this point, but for some reason the
words don’t come out of my mouth.

A tiny corner of my brain
wonders what’s going on. I’m not the kind of girl guys hit on, usually. So what
is this stud doing paying attention to me?

He follows the direction of my
gaze and one corner of his mouth turns up. A subtle lift of an eyebrow adds to
his smirk as his hand leaves my shoulder to reach for my hair. He tangles it
slowly around his finger, pulls gently, then rests his hand against my arm
again, fingers still playing with the lock of hair he’s claimed as his. He
steps in closer, his foot against mine, our hips nearly touching. A shiver runs
down my back as my whole body seems to come to attention.

His actions are entirely
inappropriate, but instead of telling him to get lost, I’m staring at his lips,
noticing how thick they are, how they’re curled into a slight smile. It’s clear
that he knows what kind of effect he’s having on me, and his cocky expression
pisses me off. But it also turns me on. I can’t ever remember having a reaction
like this to someone I’d just met. Or really anyone, ever. Whatever reaction
he’s sparking in me, I’m not sure I like it.

He speaks again, but at the
same time the singer on stage starts to wail, shredding his vocal chords to no
good effect. I shrug my shoulders and touch my ear, to let him know I can’t
hear him.

He releases my hair and brings
his mouth against my ear. I feel his warm breath on my skin when he speaks.
“Follow me.”

And with no apparent decision
on my part, as though the logic centers of my brain have been completely
switched off and I’m being controlled by other powers in my body, I follow him.

Want to read more.

US -
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01H3XUWX6

UK -
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01H3XUWX6

CA -
https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01H3XUWX6

AU -
https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01H3XUWX6