Page 73 of Stepbrothers

“No it’s not. He’s my stepbrother. We’re not exactly blood related.”

“But…Jesus.” She rubbed her brow. “Clarice, that is off the mark, even for you.”

“What do you mean, even for me?”

“You’ve hooked up with some strange guys over the years, but family. Screwing family, that’s freaky shit.”

“He’s only just become family. I’m sure it’s not illegal or anything.” Her heart was pounding. Suddenly she felt quite sick. Confessing what was going on to Wendy had clearly been a mistake. Those words should have stayed hidden. And she hadn’t told her the half of it. Thank goodness she hadn’t mentioned Parker, too, or the spankings.

“I’m sure itisillegal.” Wendy frowned. “What does Jenny think?”

“I haven’t told my mother, that would be crazy.”

“Which proves you know, deep down, that you shouldn’t be getting naked and sweaty with your brother.” She jabbed her finger into the air between them.

“Stepbrother.” Clarice gritted her teeth, her jaw aching she was so tense. “He’s my stepbrother.”

Wendy picked up her drink and finished it in several big gulps. “I can’t condone this, Clarice, and I can’t believe you think it’s okay, which you clearly do.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong, we’re consenting adults and—”

Wendy stood. “Oh, you are doing something wrong.” She jammed the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “You really are. It’s sick, that’s what it is. Sick and twisted.”

“No it isn’t, it’s—”

“It’s not something I want any part of. I don’t want to know how you suck your brother’s cock.”

“Bloody hell, keep it down.” Clarice glanced around, catching the eye of an elderly woman to her left. “It’s not like that.”

“Don’t bother messaging me until you’ve called this off. This perverted affair you’ve started.” She tilted her chin and looked down her nose at Clarice. “And I think I can safely speak for Sharon because she will feel the same way.”

“I can’t believe you’re being such a prude about this.” Clarice’s lower lids tingled, tears threatening.

“Prude. No, I’m just having a grain of moral decency.”

“What does this have to do with morals?”

“If you even have to ask, you’re more deranged than I thought.” She spun around and stalked up the street.

Clarice stared after her, then reached for her drink with shaking hands. What the heck had just happened? Her best friend, a woman who was always out there, wild, daring, up for a laugh, had treated her, Clarice, as though she was a criminal.

Taking a slug of wine, she closed her eyes. Was it so bad what she was doing? What they were doing? Because it was Parker and Hugh who’d instigated it. She hadn’t chased them. They’d decided she was theirs—theirs to spank, kiss, fuck, and take into their home.

But should they have?

Should she have given in so easily to their charms, handsome faces, buff bodies, and seductive if dominant ways?

No. The answer was no. She shouldn’t have.

If Wendy saw her as sick, then so would the rest of the world. And Wendy was right, Clarice did know deep down that fucking not just one, but both of her stepbrothers was wrong, otherwise she would have told her mother. Come to that, Hugh and Parker would have told their father, too. It wouldn’t be the big secret that it was.

She fought to hold back tears and finished her wine, the sharpness burning her throat.

If she was straightening out her life, applying for her PGCE, then she needed to straighten this out as well. There would be no more fucking Hugh and Parker. No more spankings, no more obeying them, no more letting her feelings—unwholesome, carnal, and dirty feelings—grow.

Making a sudden decision, she stood and, after shoving the chair roughly under the table, she headed in the opposite direction to Wendy.

There was only one thing for it, she needed to move out of the guys’ apartment and get herself back to her flat. Mice or no mice. At least it wasn’t raining today.

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