Snake (a Stepbrother Romance)(2)

As I pulled up, Suzanne waved to me from the line. I sneaked in with her, and she hugged me.

“We’ll figure something out,” she said.

“I’m just worried I’m going to have to prostitute myself or something. Seriously. Or, I guess I could always just go live in a cardboard box.”

“I don’t think either of those are good long-term plans.”

We ordered food and waited in the pick-up line. “What did your manager say, exactly?” she asked.

“I asked if I could pay half, and the rest later but he said I needed the full amount for next month but that he would let me set up a payment plan for the back rent. He’s not being a dick; he really wants to help me out.”

“Well, okay, then we just need to find a way to get you a decent sum of money in a short amount of time.” Suzanne said it simply, as if it was an actual solution.

“Well, no shit,” I said. “How are we going to do that?”

“I have an idea…”

“I’m not going to like it am I?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” she replied and tapped a manicured finger against her studded nose.





* * *



On the way home, I called Mark, an ex-boyfriend. I knew I should’ve resisted the urge, but he was always willing to come over, especially when neither of us was dating anyone and I had an itch to scratch. All the built-up tension of my disastrous life was taking its toll, and I needed someone to fuck it out of me, pronto.

He walked in, and without saying so much as a word to me, slipped off his leather jacket and yanked me towards his hard body. His lips found their way quickly onto mine. Mark smelled like engine oil and burnt rubber, and I lost myself in his embrace. I tried to remember why we’d broken up when he smelled this delicious.

Mark’s tongue urgently pushed its way past my parted lips, swirling inside as his hands trailed down my body, stopping to squeeze my butt. Seemed like I wasn’t the only one in need of a release.

“Well, hello there,” I gasped as we came up for air.

“Hey, babe,” he replied and pulled me, almost dragging me into my bedroom. “Let’s get these clothes off shall we?”

He pressed against me and I fell into him, feeling for the first time that day like there was some order in my life.

Mark was dark and brooding, a man of many muscles and few words, and totally wrong for me. We both knew it would never ever work out between us; heaven knows we’d tried, but it always ended the same: him cheating on me and fucking around. Too much heartache when I wanted so much more, someone loyal…

So, we had this little arrangement, and I was relatively happy. Of course it’d taken me a while to forgive his previous indiscretions, but he was set in his ways. I couldn’t change him. Instead I decided not to let myself get attached anymore.

Just fuck me and leave. No complications. That’s all I needed right now. Mark would have to do until I found someone who wanted to spend time with me as much I wanted to spend time with him.

We fucked that night, barely speaking to each other, and as dawn broke the next morning, Mark slinked out from under the sheets and left. As I rolled over and looked at the empty space, a feeling of being used washed over me. But this was what I signed up for. This was what I wanted, right? And his hands, lips and cock had, I admitted, done wonders to clear away the cobwebs. I felt like I could breathe again. But the feeling wouldn’t last. The relationship was dead in the water, hollow and without substance.

I craved something more substantial, filling and juicy.





2





Devan





“Hey, honey, I’m cooking dinner – what do you want?” I called out to Monique, my wife, only half expecting an answer. She hadn’t spoken to me in four hours, and if she did now, it would only be because she was starving, but I refused to walk on eggshells in my own goddamn house. “Honey? Monique?”

I knew she could hear me, and that made my blood boil even more. The TV was on in the living room, but it wasn’t loud; I walked in and stood by her. She wouldn’t look at me and kept her head facing forward, not even acknowledging my presence. Her face was red and streaked with tears. Tears of anger, I knew, because we had been fighting for… well, since we woke up.

“I’m going to make dinner. Do you want something?” I said, trying to keep the annoyance of the day out of my tone.

“Fuck off,” she said.

“Fine,” I said, my anger rising in a swell that took even me by surprise. “Feed yourself. I’m going out.” I grabbed my keys and my phone and bailed.

As soon as I stepped outside, the night air washed over me, cooling my skin, and I found I could think again. The tension in our house had reached its maximum point, and I knew that no matter what happened, we couldn’t maintain it for much longer. It was only a matter of time before one or both of us snapped. It was as though a black cloud had settled over our house the minute the IVF treatment had failed.