Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Rock Band Read online

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out

  With His Rock Band

  Delilah Devlin

  Copyright © 2016 Delilah Devlin

  Kindle Edition

  When a social media star decides to surprise her rocker stepbrother while he’s on tour, she’s the one shocked…then seduced…by two sexy rock gods…

  Note: This original 6000-word short story may be short in length, but it’s not short in passion!

  Check out more sexy stepbrother romances:

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Doctor

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Friends

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Partner

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Boss

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Pack

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Professor

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His SEAL Team

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Team

  From the Author

  To those of you who’ve read me before—hello, friends! To new readers, welcome to my world!

  As you’ll discover, I tend to bounce around in different genres, from contemporary to historical to paranormal to sci-fi—all are very sexy, so be warned. I also write in many lengths from short story to full-length novel. If you can’t tell, I love to write. And when a story is fast, it’s short. If my characters need more pages, well, you get the picture.

  I love hearing from readers and have a very active blog and Facebook friend page. I run contests, talk about my favorite TV shows, what I collect, what drives me crazy. I ramble a bit. I’m doing it right now. But if you’d like to learn more about me and what I’m doing or writing about, be sure to check out the “About Delilah Devlin” page after the story.

  And if you enjoy this story, please consider leaving a review on your favorite retail site or simply tell a friend. Readers do influence other readers. We have to trust someone to tell us whether we’ll have fun when we open a new story!

  Sincerely,

  Delilah Devlin

  Visit www.DelilahDevlin.com for more titles and release dates, and subscribe to Delilah’s newsletter at newsletter.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  About the Book

  From the Author

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Rock Band

  About Delilah Devlin

  Delilah’s Uncharted SEALs series

  More Short Stories by Delilah Devlin

  Stepbrothers Stepping Out:

  With His Rock Band

  ‡

  The Peabody in Memphis wasn’t Derek’s usual brand of comfort for a concert stop. Not ultra modern. Not accustomed to dealing with rockers and their entourage and fans. And I doubted the hotel management would be as forgiving of the noise that invariably accompanied a late night jam. Because of his recent Instagram posts, most fans probably thought he was staying on his band’s tour bus, but I knew better. This close to home, he couldn’t resist a trip to watch the ducks parade through the lobby. When he was a kid, his dad father treated him to a trip to the Peabody to see the odd parade. Something he still laughed about.

  As I strode through the lobby, past the fountain where the ducks splashed away, I wished I’d worn a hoodie. Heads turned. Cell phones came out. I lifted my chin and pasted on my famous, vacuous smile. It didn’t take a second before the first nervous fangirl ran gushing to my side.

  “Oh, Ms. Cornish! I follow your Candygrams! Do you mind?” the flustered teenager said as she thrust her cell phone toward me.

  Because she’d be sharing the shot with me, I reached into my bag, produced a new tube of my signature lipstick, and waited while she slid the color across her bare lips. I took her cell phone and held it away. “Pout for the camera,” I said, and then puckered my own lips to take the shot.

  After I’d taken the picture, I said, “Keep the lipstick and be sure to tag me.”

  She squealed, gave me a hug, and ran back to her family standing near the reception desk.

  With a quick glance around to make sure no more fans would approach, I headed straight for the concierge’s desk. The young man gave me a wink and handed me an envelope.

  I slipped him a hundred and headed straight to an elevator. Once inside, I pulled out a mirror and checked my hair. I’d left it loose and wavy, just as Derek liked it. My makeup was perfect—smoky eyes, red lips. Any fatigue I felt was well-camouflaged by concealer.

  Sliding the key card out of the envelope, I waited until the doors opened, checked to make sure the hall was clear, and then strode toward Derek’s room. His manager had made the arrangements. A surprise visit. With the launch of my new cosmetics line and the whirl of fashion week in New York, Derek wouldn’t have a clue I was coming. At his door, I took a deep breath. I hoped he’d be happy to see me. That our last spat wasn’t still fresh on his mind. And if by chance he’d moved on, like he’d threatened, I hoped I wasn’t interrupting something that would crush me.

  Yes, it was late afternoon, but Derek liked to rest before a gig. And not always alone. When we’d been hot and heavy—before my profile had exploded on Instagram and business opportunities had flown at me at a dizzying rate—I’d been the girl in his bed. The one he’d needed to tame his nerves before a concert.

  I let myself into the darkened room and moved through the suite’s living area, toward the cracked bedroom door. I stood in the space, listening, hoping I wasn’t too late.

  A soft snore greeted my ears. Just one. And even though the curtains were pulled and the lighting was dim, I made out one figure beneath the covers.

  Relieved, I crept inside the room on tiptoe and began to strip. As I shed my clothes, I shed “Candy Cornish”—the latest celebutante blowing up on social media. A funny idea, really, since I hadn’t been born into privilege. Until I’d launched my own line, my fashion and makeup blogs had mostly been filled with department stores finds—things any girl with an eye for fashion and a bit of courage could have managed to do. However, I had one advantage—my association with Derek and his band. Our photo bombs had brought me into the public eye. With only a high school education and a resume filled with cashiering at fast food restaurants and stints in telemarketing, I shouldn’t have succeeded.

  But here I was. With my own makeup line in direct competition with Kat Von D’s and my own clothing line set to launch in just a few weeks—with an online catalog company, because, after all, I was an internet phenom.

  Nude, I approached the bed, lifted the covers, and slid in behind the long, lean form stretched on the right side of the bed. Smiling, I smoothed my hands over his sides, scratched my nails lightly across his belly, and reached for his cock.

  I knew the moment he awakened. His breath caught.

  And because I wanted him to know it was me, not some crazy fan sneaking into his bed, I kissed his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Surprise, baby. Happy to see me?” His cock jerked inside my grasp, and I gave him a squeeze.

  “Um, Candy?” His voice was sleep-roughened. Deeper than usual. Sexy as hell.

  He rolled to his back, and I came over him, spreading my thighs to straddle his hips. When I leaned downward, a scent I didn’t recognize greeted me. Derek wore Gio.

  And something else registered. The penis in my hand was slightly thicker, shorter than I remembered.

  Before I could react, the door to the bedroom opened. Lights blazed above.

  I heard a soft, “What the fuck?” as I stared down into Jimmy Jones’s amused blue gaze. My jaw dropped. I eased my hand from his dick then quickly scrambled backward, baring both our bodies as the sheets slid downward. I dragged the
m up again, but realized my crotch was still pressing against Jimmy’s thighs. But what could I do? I crossed an arm over my breasts and turned to meet Derek’s dark glare. “I can explain.”

  He shook his head and held up two cups of coffee in his hands. “I only stepped out for fifteen minutes to grab a couple cups. Imagine my surprise when some chick in the lobby squealed about meeting Candy Cornish.”

  His words were terse. He was really angry. Color rode high on his cheekbones.

  Nothing was making sense. Jimmy was in his bed. The pillow on the left had a deep indentation. I sucked in a breath as my stomach dove toward my toes. “Nooooo.”

  Derek’s eyes narrowed further.

  I pointed to Jimmy whose mouth was curved in a one-sided smile. “You…and Jimmy?”

  Derek shrugged. “You know I need to let off steam before a gig.”

  “But…you…and…Jimmy?”

  Jimmy’s hands gripped my hips, and he slid my body from his thighs, upward, until his cock slid between my folds. I tensed my thighs, trying to put space between my sex and his, but he was stronger. “Stop that!” I said, swatting at his hands.

  Jimmy laughed. “You should see your face.”

  Anger flared. “You being here, I can understand. You’d fuck anything with a hole. But Derek?”

  “Baby, I’ve got skills,” Jimmy said, waggling his eyebrows.

  “Enough, Jimmy,” Derek said, his tone sharp. “Let her up. She needs to get dressed and go.”

  Derek’s voice cut through my anger. “But—”

  “Candace.”

  He never used my full name. He sounded like his dad when he did. I shivered. “But we need to talk.”

  One dark brow arched. He waved a hand toward Jimmy and me. “This is how you conduct a conversation?”

  I gave him a weak smile even while I clenched my pussy trying to keep more moisture from sliding over Jimmy’s shaft. As awkward as this was, I couldn’t let him eject me from his suite. “We’re talking now.”

  Derek’s jaw hardened. His cheekbones became more pronounced as he tensed. “Okay, we’ll talk.” When I started to push against Jimmy’s hands again because he still hadn’t released my hips, Derek shook his head. “Stay there. Just like that,” he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. “And we’ll talk.”

  My mouth went dry. The hard ridge between my legs pulsed, and I couldn’t help it—warm fluid oozed from inside me.

  Jimmy’s fingers bit into hips, but I ignored him. Derek said he was willing to talk. And he was sure I’d fight him about doing things this way. If I did, he’d march my ass to the door. So I took a deep breath, raised my chin, and settled against Jimmy Jones’s dick. I could ignore the heat building in my core. So a blush was rising from my chest, creeping up my cheeks to my face. I could do this. I drew in a shivering breath. “You haven’t answered any of my calls,” I said, my voice tight and little too breathless.

  Derek sniffed and strode toward the bed. He placed his cups on the night table and settled into the arm chair beside the bed. He looked relaxed, like seeing his sister naked and straddling his best friend was an everyday occurrence, and not one that caused him a bit of pain.

  His nonchalance hurt. And it goaded the devil inside me. The one who craved attention. Since I had his attention, I undulated my hips, rubbing my pussy forward and back against Jimmy’s cock.

  Jimmy’s gaze narrowed on me, but his fingers eased, giving me leave to continue my shallow movements.

  I shook back my hair. “I missed you,” I said, giving Jimmy a deeper glide, letting my slick heat coat his shaft.

  Derek’s dark eyes glinted. “You chose to leave.”

  “I had an opportunity. Once in a lifetime. I couldn’t live on your bus and make meetings in New York.”

  “You don’t need money. You could have said no.”

  “You’re living your dream. Why couldn’t I pursue mine?”

  Jimmy’s hand moved, sliding from my hip to my mound. I halted him, grabbing his fingers, but not taking my gaze from Derek’s face because his gaze had dropped downward.

  His anger gave way to arousal—I knew, because his mouth softened and his nostrils flared. Since he’d left his shirt half buttoned, I could see the quickening of his breaths. He was into watching what was happening. Watching me with Jimmy. Slowly, I released Jimmy’s fingers.

  He quickly tucked a finger into the top of my folds and toggled my clit.

  My breath hitched, but I shook back my long hair. “So you two are fucking. What do Tiny and Griff think about that?” I asked, mentioning the band’s drummer and the bass player.

  Derek leaned back in his chair and adjusted his cock, which was thickening inside his jeans. “They’re relieved I found an outlet without breaking our no groupies rule. Their wives wouldn’t have appreciated that.”

  I eased upward an inch, and Jimmy slid two fingers inside me. His thumb rubbed my clit now. My nipples were tingling, studding. I cupped a breast to ease the tightness.

  All these actions, Derek followed with his hungry gaze.

  I rose and fell, fucking the fingers swirling inside me. “I’m sorry I left like that,” I said, referring to the night I’d flounced away from the bus, a Vera Bradley duffle stuffed with clothes slung over my shoulder, without so much as backward glance. I’d taken a taxi to the airport and flown three hours to La Guardia before my anger at his stubbornness had faded, and I realized I’d made a mistake. Not the acceptance of the offer, but over the fact I’d left him mid-tour when he’d needed me most.

  Derek cupped his hand around his erection. His mouth twisted in a snarl. “Are we going to do this?”

  Already aroused by the fingers stroking my pussy, I was relieved Derek wanted to fuck—because sex was the way I’d always gotten to him. Whatever our issues, when we went at it hard, everything else faded away.

  I let my eyelids fall halfway, sucked my lower lip into mouth, and moaned. Jimmy’s clever hand had me halfway there. The darkness reflected in Derek’s eyes would send me into orbit. “Please.”

  Derek shot up from his chair and reached for the box of condoms on the nightstand. He tossed one at Jimmy’s chest. “Fuck him, Candy, but don’t come.”

  I waited as Jimmy tore the packet open and cloaked himself. Then I leaned both hands against his chest and raised my hips. He guided himself inside my cunt, and I pushed down and backward, easing down his thickness. When our groins met, I rubbed forward and back, liking how he filled me, loving the friction of his crinkly hairs against my clit.

  The bed dipped behind me. Hands cupped my shoulders and pushed me downward. When my nipples met Jimmy’s hot skin, I hissed. Jimmy gripped my hair, angled my face toward his, and kissed me, sinking his tongue into my mouth. I bit it, not hard, but enough he grunted and laughed. Our kiss deepened, and I rubbed all of me against him, loving the texture of his chest hair abrading my breasts, the feel of his thickness stretching me below.

  When cool gel was rubbed around my asshole, I whimpered and tightened. Jimmy gripped my ass to hold me still then pulled apart my cheeks. The tapered tip of Derek’s cock pushed against my hole, and I groaned against Jimmy’s mouth—a desperate, primitive sound that deepened as Derek pushed inside me.

  He’d taken my ass before, so it wasn’t painful. But I’d never been filled front and back like this, never felt this exquisite pressure. Stuffed and stretched, heat built in my core. When he began to move, pumping gently at first, and then with growing strength, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop quivering and groaning.

  Jimmy eased his tongue from my mouth and bit my lower lip. Our gazes locked. Was he reminding me he was there? His hands pushed on my hips, and I got my knees under me, making space for him to move. Now both men stroked into me. I went rigid. My back arched. I reached behind me to grip Derek’s long hair and screamed as I came.

  Jimmy followed a moment later, thrusting upward one last time and giving a muffled shout against my shoulder.

  Derek thrust hard and
held. I felt his come spurt inside me. Felt him trembling against my back.

  Together, we fell downward. Jimmy’s arms spread wide on the bed. Derek’s hand tucked under Jimmy’s head, cradling it, and another cupped my breast. Our breaths gradually evened.

  I knew our conversation wasn’t over. That we still had problems to work through. But I also knew Derek would never have done this if he didn’t still have feelings for me. I wasn’t some groupie whose name he didn’t know. I was family. His sister. His lover. We would talk. I had to know if there was still room in his life for me.

  I stood behind the curtain, watching as Derek and his band held the audience enraptured. His brand of classic rock, mixed with folk and alt-rock verve, was infectious. They’d had a good night. And I had to admit, I was proud of my contribution. Derek’s body was fluid, his vocals raspy and easy as he seduced the crowd. I knew what they felt, because I’d sat on the end of his bed when we were growing up, listening as his fingers strummed then crashed, as his voice growled and whispered. Back then, he’d covered the classics—honing his skills on tunes from Blind Melon, Zeppelin and Pearl Jam. Not until he’d hooked up with Jimmy his senior year had he attempted writing his own lyrics to Jimmy’s music.

  Now, I wondered whether their relationship back then had been something more than just two guys jamming every spare minute. They were too easy around each other, read the other’s moods and thoughts. The way they’d worked together, screwing me, hadn’t needed words. They’d functioned as one.

  If they had been lovers, how had my relationship with Derek affected Jimmy?

  Jimmy always had a partner. Always barely made it back to the bus after a gig, kissing some girl before he climbed aboard. Had that been for show?

  I watched as they entered the last song of the final set, Jimmy’s gaze glued to Derek. I’d always assumed his attention was simply to keep to the changing rhythm of Derek’s vocal stylings. But was there more to it? And Derek’s sideways glances went more often to Jimmy than to Tiny or Griff. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?