Page 115 of Stepbrothers

“I could tell.” She kissed his chest, then up his neck and found his mouth. She still held his cock.

He was breathing hard. “Your touch is magic,” he said, then laughed. “Ignore that, it was stupid.”

“No it wasn’t.” She grinned at him. “I want it to feel magic when I touch you because that’s how I feel when you touch me.”

He tugged her in for a kiss, his tongue finding hers as he let out a final moan.

After a few minutes, she pulled away.

He slid his hand over her breast and murmured, “Your turn.”

“No.” She wriggled from his reach and grabbed a wad of Kleenex from the bedside table. “You’re right, I’m tired.”

“But—”

“Feeling you come hit the spot for me.” She tenderly wiped his belly, cleaning him, caring for him. “Let’s sleep. Like you said, you have an early start.”

He didn’t argue, and she was glad when after she’d finished wiping him, he wrapped her in his arms again and was soon breathing softly. She had to remember, that although Parker didn’t have a physical job like his brothers, it was still intense, still required him to give a lot of himself, and he didn’t switch off at five o’clock, he kept on going at all hours.

This was how her life was now. Her men had different needs, and juggling all of those balls was going to take some doing.

Clarice woke to an empty bed. For a moment, she panicked that she was late for work then remembered she didn’t have to worry. So she stretched out her limbs in a star shape, stared at the ceiling, and sighed happily.

What was she going to do with her day? It was pure luxury to have it before her, uncluttered, no demands, only herself to please.

“Ah, you are awake.” Trig strode into the room holding a steaming red mug.

She glanced at the clock. It was eight. “You’re back early.”

“You complaining?”

“No.” And she really wasn’t. He was fit as fuck in black running shorts and a black vest top with a Nike tick in the top right-hand corner. Gym gear showed off his pumped-up muscles to perfection.

“Here. Thought you could use this.” He set the drink down next to the box of Kleenex.

“Thanks.” She sat and reached for it.

He plonked himself on the bed.

“You been for a run?” she asked, noticing his damp brow and the way his top was clinging to him.

“Yeah.”

“Early.”

“Not really.” He set a small blue card on the bedside table. It resembled a credit card.

“What’s that?”

“A gym pass. The one downstairs is for residents’ use. You’re a resident now, so I got you one.”

“I’m not much of a gym bunny.” She blew on her coffee then took a sip. It was hot and strong and so good.

“You should be. It’s important to exercise at least three times a week. And now you’ve finished work and you have a gym at your disposal, there’s no excuse.”

“I’m not sure, and I—”

“There’s no excuse.” He raised his eyebrows. “A quick run on the treadmill, a half-hour cycle, that’s all it needs to be to start with.” He tapped his head. “Just to get your brain in the habit and start those endorphins becoming part of life. They’re addictive.”

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