Page 18 of Ten Hammers

But… when he says take the next step… he is just talking sex, right?

A guy like Max Hammer doesn’t want to be your boyfriend, stupid. He’s just interested in getting it wherever he can. I’m the only man that will ever be honest with you. You remember that.

My dad’s voice. Even now.

“Is that okay with you?” Max whispers, sending my father’s words scattering to hide.

“Yeah,” I whisper back.

The smile he gives me is wicked and satisfied. It’s the last thing I see before he pulls me into his arms and holds me tight against his chest and I fall into the deepest, coziest sleep.

Chapter 7

Max

It’s the familiar jeering of the blue jays in the oak tree outside my childhood bedroom that wake me up, but before I open my eyes, I’m enveloped in the scent of ripe strawberries and the warmth of the girl wrapped in my arms. Everything else ceases to exist for a second.

Winnie Wainwright, hugging my right arm in her sleep, a smile playing on her lips. My morning semi is already eager for attention, especially when she shifts, pushing gently against my cock with her gorgeous naked ass. She sighs softly, and settles back into a serene sleep, her worries from yesterday clearly forgotten.

Dropping the barest kiss on her shoulder, I slide out of bed for my morning piss. I head to my bathroom, though I’m tempted to linger in bed with her - hell, I want to stay in bed with this girl for the rest of my life; make her my breakfast, lunch, dinner, and every snack in between. God, she’s incredible. But there will be hell to pay with Mason.

I’m already dreading what’s in store for me.

Big Max.

It’s hard to worry about the collective wrath from my brothers when I think of my girl in the kitchen after dark, wanting some from me – wanting it all from me – and it makes me feel like a god. Not to mention, the thought that she mistook my twin for me and called him Big Max, makes me laugh my ass off.

My mirth is short-lived, because the conversation with Winnie last night and the knowledge that she actually wants me to fuck her, whips through my filthy mind. I need to take care of a few things before I leave the bathroom… namely my dick, which is in full salute now.

I turn on the shower and drop my boxers into the hamper, letting the real Big Max spring free. With the memory of the taste of her, the feel of her pushing herself down on my fingers, on my tongue… fuck, it doesn’t take more than a few pumps into my soapy fist before I’m releasing my load in thick streaks.

Winnie is still fast asleep when I get out, so I throw on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a t-shirt and head downstairs to make some breakfast. I’m not sure yet what I will say to Mason when I see him. He’s bound to bring it up before I can open my mouth. But I need to get to him before the others are awake, explain how Winnie and I are…

Fuck. We didn’t exactly define the relationship while my head was buried between her thighs.

The wolfish grin spreads across my face, unstoppable. I feel unstoppable.

I take the steps two at a time and swing into the living room.

The room is stunning, really. My dad was the guy who taught us everything we know, and built Mom the living room of her dreams. It has wall-to-wall bookshelves that stretch long and high enough for a sliding ladder, large and luxurious furniture, big enough for a family of our size to spread out. Everything is perfect, down to the last of my mom’s homey details. Perfect except for the small addition of my nine brothers, reclining on the sofa, the love seat, the stool by the fireplace, all glaring at me.

Mason’s glare is fiercest of all. Well, shit.

We don’t have the kind of twin telepathy you hear about–thank god–but I shoot daggers at his forehead anyway.

You couldn’t come to me first, bro?

He’s sharing Mom’s favorite green armchair with Gunnar, sitting on the arm. Mom would be seriously pissed to see him sitting there, weakening the arm of the chair when there’s plenty of space beside Cruz and Theo on the sofa. I don’t bother bringing it up right now.

“Uh… hey,” I say, just delusional enough after what happened last night to hope that maybe they’re collectively pissed at me about something that has nothing to do with Winnie. “Anyone had breakfast yet? I’m making. Waffles, eggs, bacon. Who wants what?”

I start towards the kitchen.

“We’re not hungry, Big Max,” Mason says the second my back is to him. I wince.

“Is she still sleeping?” Jack asks.

I scrub my hands over my face before turning back to face them.

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