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Cockney:A Stepbrother Romance(50)

By:Aubrey Irons




I carry the bullet they pulled out of my shoulder in my pocket.



I smile at Rob and Hiro, and some guy who's name I'm pretty sure is Mike; "Naw, I'm good, thanks though man."         

     



 



Hiro frowns at me; "You did see the year on that bottle this shit came out of right?"



I force out a laugh; "Yeah, looks like good stuff." It looks like mana  from the Gods and I want to guzzle the whole fucking bottle, but I can't  do that you fucking pricks.



Rob looks at me quizzically; "Wait, are you really not gonna drink it? Seriously?"



"Yeah, seriously. Thanks though."



"Dude, just have a fuckin drink." Probably-Mike says, sipping on the scotch in his hand.



"I said fucking no, ok?" I clench my fists, feeling the rage hit me  harder than I was thinking it would. I need some new fucking friends.



They all give me strange looks and I shake my head; "Sorry, I've just got a long day tomorrow at work."



That seems to be the magic word as Rob nods empathetically; "Old Man  Archer got you working on the West Side Highway project huh?"



No, actually I'm just distracted by the fact that I can't get Old Man  Archer's DAUGHTER out of my fucking head for even a second. "Mhmm, yeah,  it's a doozy."



There's a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to see 120 pounds of sex just  staring at me with dark brown eyes and a hot pink dress; "Hey, you wanna  dance?"



She's hot, she's dressed up, she's smiling at me like that and batting  those eyes; why not? Hey, a man's gotta have some vices, and it's not  drinking, right?



"Uh, sure."



And then we're out in the heat and the sweat of the throngs of peoples  dancing and moving to the thumping bass on the dance floor, and I'm just  not feeling it. She's all over me, her hands on my biceps as she tries  to grind on me, and instead of getting turned on it's just putting me  off in a major way.



"Look, just stop."



She looks at me like doesn't hear what I said and leans in to try and  kiss me. I push her back and hold her there with my hands on her arms;  "I said stop."



She pouts; "Awww, you're no fun."



"Ok." I turn and start to push my way through the crowd when she grabs  my hand; "Hey, lets just get out of here instead. I've got plenty to  drink at my place."



Ok, this girl is seriously asking me to come home with her, I'm  seriously about to say no, and I'm starting to wonder if there is  seriously something wrong with me; "No, thanks."



She looks at me like I'm totally nuts, which I can't exactly disagree  with her on at that particular junction; "Well fuck you then, prick."



Yeah, fuck me, right?



The guys I came with are out trying to score on the dance floor, so I  just pay their tab as a goodbye before I just leave. Out on the street, I  breathe, fingering the metal slug in my pocket and feeling the sharp  tug of the addiction demons grabbing at my fucking throat. Me, Hudson  Banks, turning down no-strings sex with a hot girl; something is  definitely throwing the world and reality as we know it out of whack. I  take out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I see her name.  This is why the world is off it's axis, I think as I stare at Reagan  Archer's number.



Fuck, this is a bad idea.





P R E S E N T



It's hours later, and I'm still rock hard. All I can think about - the  only possible real thought going through my head at all actually - is  the memory of her calling my name like that; Jesus. I mean I couldn't  totally see through the curtain, but I could enough that I can assume  what she was doing, and assuming is enough to have me going out of my  mind right now. It's not just the way she said my name like that either,  it's knowing what she was doing, naked with that hot water steaming  over her perfect skin, trickling over her hot body when she did say it.  It's knowing that she was uttering my name when she came, and that  thought has kept me hard for hours since.



I tried fixing the situation myself; by hand, if you will. I tried  wrapping my hand around my throbbing hard cock and stroking it as I  imagined Reagan's perfect pouty lips wrapping around my dick. I tried to  imagine that insane body of hers sliding down onto me, my cock sliding  hotly through her wetness as she came for me - on me - calling my name.  But it wasn't the same, not by a damn mile, and I just couldn't do it  with being pissed at it not being the real thing.



The apartment, completely unsurprisingly, has been silent since; like,  pin-drop quiet. And I'm willing to bet she'd down the hall doing the  exact same thing I am - sitting on a bed staring at a wall trying to get  thoughts together enough to think about what the hell we do now. What  we had before? Yeah, they call that sexual tension. Now? I don't they  have a name for whatever the fuck falls between sexual tension and  fucking, but Goddamn if it isn't so damn tense that I feel like I'm  about to snap.



I'm on my feet in a second; I can't just stay in this tiny fucking guest  room anymore. Her door is still closed when I go to the living room and  turn on some mindless movie, thoughI think I hear the quietest intake  of breath in the world as I walk past her door.



I want to leave, well, sort of. I want to give her space is more  accurate. I don't want to leave at all, but something tells me Reagan  will stay in her room indefinitely until I do. I whip out my phone and  text my office to get two of my guys to come watch the place tonight so I  can get the fuck out of here; so I can clear the air of whatever just  happened back there.



"Sorry for walking in on you."



Her voice makes me jump, and I'm amazed at how I never heard her coming; "Reagan-"



"I'm sorry for walking in on you." She repeats herself, her voice level  and quite, her face neutral, as if she never said it the first time at  all.



"I- I'm sorry too, for, walking in on-"



For walking in on you with your fingers buried in that sweet pussy that  I'd love to cover with my mouth and lick until you couldn't see straight  is what I want to say. I don't obviously, but it doesn't stop me from  congratulating myself on being such a smooth talker.



"It's fine," She cuts off my thoughts; "Look, if we're going to- I mean  if you're going to be around-" She sighs, her hand coming up as she runs  her fingers through her long hair; "That time before- you know, at my  Da-"



"This is my job, Reagan, I'm not going to get tripped up by-"



"No, look, I'm just saying before was nothing, right?"



I feel a tight clench somewhere deep inside my chest. ‘Before', meaning  ‘that kiss'. That kiss; the only kiss that's ever mattered, anywhere.  And yet I hear myself talking, and saying the opposite of everything I  want to tell her; "Uh, yeah I guess so."



Fuck!



"Good," She breathes out, an expression that looks a lot like relief moving over her face; "OK, good."



Yeah, fucking awesome.



"So before was nothing, right? I mean, I was drunk, you might've been  drunk, I was grieving-" I start to open my mouth, but she cuts me off  again. "No no, it's not like you were taking advantage or anything,  Hudson, I'm just saying it was nothing, OK?"



I'm not sure who she's trying to convince harder here, me or her, but it fucking sucks either way.



"We were horny and sad and drunk and just made- well, almost made a terrible mistake."



I'm nodding at her words, even though every single fiber of my being is raging otherwise inside.



"I- I just wanted to get that out so we can be in the same place  together without biting each other's heads off or there being this sort  of-"



"Sexual tension?"



She blushes as I say the word, and it's so cute and so fucking predictable that I'm grinning at her.



"I- I just wanted to say that now, before anything else popped up."



"Well I've only got the one, you know."



Her face goes bright red, and I can't help but grin even wider



"So, there's nothing more to talk about then, right? No sexual tension  or anything like that? We're just doing our jobs and just working  together without anything like that lingering?"



"Sure." I say thinly; "Listen, Reagan, I'm out of your hair tonight anyways, so you can relax."



"Oh, you are?" She looks quickly up at me, her expression hard to read.



"Yeah, I've got two guys coming over to watch you instead."



"Wait, two strangers?" Her voice quavers for a second, her eyes looking nervous.



"They're good guys, Reagan. I think they'll watch you better than I c-"



"Hudson I don't want two strangers."



I sigh in exasperation; "Well what the hell do you want, Red? Because  you don't want these guys watching you, and it sure as shit seems like  you don't want me around-"



"I do want you-" She winces and shakes her as that adorable flush creeps  up her cheeks; "I mean, I want you to stay and be the one watching me,  if someone has to be doing it."