Tool (A Step-Brother Romance #2)

I smile broadly, and lean in close to her again. "I did. So I'll be close by. In case you ever decide you need some…relief. In fact, if it helps, know that I'll be next door thinking about you when I come."


I don't wait for her response before I leave her room, shutting the door behind me.





I'm standing here in my room, staring at the closed door like an idiot. As if none of that just happened. As if the throbbing between my legs is nothing.

Gaige is next door, with his hand on his cock, thinking about you.

Gaige's bedroom door closes, and I hear him moving around his room. These walls are paper-thin. I can't believe Gaige had the balls to move from the guesthouse to the main house – and not just the main house, but the room next door – just to mess with me. There are twelve bedrooms in this house, and Gaige picked the one next to mine.

He definitely wants to mess with you.

I'm not sure whether I'm more turned on or irritated. After his trip to Vegas with Chelsea and God knows how many other girls – I can only imagine the number – Gaige has the balls to stand here, pressed up against me, telling me what he wants to do to me.

The really filthy things he wants to do to me.

He has absolutely zero shame.

You're the one who put condoms in his room. The thought flashes in my head, and I quickly try to push it aside.

I wonder if he's actually jerking off in his bedroom. He sure didn't fake the erection that was pressed up against me when he pulled me close to him.

And there's definitely no faking the wetness between my legs. If Gaige would have made good on his threat to slide his fingers between my thighs, he would have realized it immediately. And I'm not sure I would have protested.

I cross the bedroom to lock the door – who knows if Gaige will return – and shed my office clothes piece by piece, unable to get Gaige out of my thoughts. I make a valiant effort at trying to distract myself by running through all kinds of other things in my head – work stuff, my to-do list, the fucking state capitols in alphabetical order.

Anything other than thinking about Gaige next door. Gaige with his hand on his cock. Gaige fantasizing about me. Gaige on the other side of the wall, running his hand along his length like he said he would.

The throbbing between my legs becomes more insistent, and I grab a novel I've been reading, flopping onto the bed and flipping open the book, my eyes landing right on…a sex scene. I slam the book closed. Choosing a romance novel to distract myself is entirely unhelpful.

I can't stop visualizing Gaige, naked, his hand on his cock. And there are a million damn reasons why I shouldn't be thinking about Gaige naked. I make a mental checklist in my head: Manwhore – check. Past history with him – check. Professional relationship – check. Stepbrother – double fucking check.

Next door, Gaige is silent. I wonder if he really jerked off. I wonder if he thought about me. I wonder if he finished already. I wonder what he looks like when he comes.

Damn it, Delaney. You have to stop.

Focus on something else.

Like the fact that my nipples are basically as hard as rocks against the fabric of my bra. And that my panties are damp.

I slide my finger down the front of my panties, thinking about what Gaige said.

How you'd feel as I touched my fingers to your pussy lips, the expression on your face…

I slide my finger lower, between my lips, slick with wetness, the wetness Gaige is responsible for creating.

How slick you'd be as I slid my fingers inside you…

I picture Gaige naked above me, giving me that knowing grin as he reaches between my legs, spreading my lips with his fingers and plunging them inside me. I stroke myself slowly, the way I imagine Gaige would touch me, bringing myself higher and higher.

The thought creeps into my head – this is wrong. But I push it away. Your stepbrother is right next door.

I picture Gaige next door, stroking himself, thinking about me as he comes. It's when I'm picturing him that I glance up at the closet door. Behind that door is Gaige's cock, the dildo he made. I'd stuffed it back in that box and hid it in the closet. Do I dare?

It's not like anyone would ever know. It's probably not even Gaige's anyway. I'm a thousand percent positive it's something he bought at an adult store, so why shouldn't I use it?

I slide my hand from between my legs and go to the closet before I can change my mind, rummaging through the assorted odds and ends until I find the box. Gaige's cock.

I strip off my panties and bra and slide into the bed naked, the sheets cool against my skin. I take a long look at the dildo. I'm about to lie in bed and fuck myself with a dildo made from a mold of my stepbrother's cock, while he's right next door, jerking off while he fantasizes about me.

My life sounds like a fucking porno.

Except it isn't. I haven't gotten laid in six months. And I can't even think straight. I might be losing my mind. But I don't care, not right now, anyway.