The Other Brother Part 1: Forbidden Read online

  “Are you sure?” Yeah, hot and sensitive. Perfect combo. Too bad there’s never been more than a flicker of interest between us. “I was watching you, looks like you’ve got something on your mind.”

  Baring my teeth, I wind up and punch the bag again for good measure. “Maybe.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He cocks his head, looking utterly adorable. Damn it. Why can’t I be interested in him? He’d probably provide me with a nice, stable relationship.

  He waits for an answer, and I pinch my lips shut. Hell no, I don’t want to talk about it. What am I going to say? Yeah, my therapist had a really fucked up idea to make me stop having crazy sex dreams about your old drinking buddy Seth?

  “I’m good.” I finally give him a small smile, hoping it’s enough to get him to back off. You know, cause I’m the crazy chick who wants the hot man to go away.

  Tristan arches an eyebrow, but nods, stepping back. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

  I watch that nice, tight ass walk away, thoroughly irritated with my lack of interest. Once he’s gone, I turn back to the bag, but I’m done. My muscles feel like overcooked spaghetti, and mentally I’m spent. It’s worked. I’ve left my worries on the floor.

  Grabbing my towel, I head to the showers. The women’s locker room is really no more than a closet, since I’m one of maybe four other women who use the gym. At least there is a shower stall, albeit a tiny one. I scrub my cotton candy scented shampoo through my hair, rinsing as I go, then towel off and slide back into my street clothes, worn jeans and a tank top. I still have an afternoon shift to work at the restaurant, five mindless hours during which I have time to decide whether I’m going to go through with the suggestion my therapist gave me. A suggestion I still can’t wrap my mind around.

  I can’t lie. The idea is... intriguing. There’s no other reason it would take root in my mind like it has. It also scares the ever loving hell out of me.

  I rub at my wrists remembering Seth’s hands around them, that fateful night. Try as I might, I can’t erase that touch, or the way he made me feel. Years of therapy still haven’t exorcised him, my own personal demon.

  And I know that’s why Dr. Gill has suggested what she has. So that I can explore that part of me. The part that yearns for those bonds, that needs them in some way... needs the freedom that might be found from losing control.

  Oh, to hell with waiting. I already know what I want. There’s no point in lying to myself. I spent enough time doing that shit.

  Even knowing what I want, my fingers tremble a bit as I pull out my phone. Scrolling through my contacts, I find Solace, the venue that Dr. Gill researched and recommended.

  I’m still trembling as I book and appointment, but I’m aware enough of myself to note than some of it is anticipation.

  I’ve made my decision... there’s no turning back now.

  Chapter Six

  SETH

  The ocean air is so salty it stings. I suck in as much as I can as I lean on the railing along the seawall. There’s not much I miss about Galveston—too many dark memories on this island.

  But the long boulevard along the ocean? Yeah. That’s got a sweet spot in my memories. The brief period that I lived here, I spent a lot time in this exact spot. Thinking and drinking, trying my best to stay out of trouble.

  Which hadn’t lasted long. But that was in the past.

  It’s pretty quiet, this time of night. This is fine by me—I’m craving some solitude. Being alone is definitely something I miss—it’s a sorely lacking commodity in New York. Too many people, always something going on. It’s part of the reason I bought my penthouse, a ridiculously huge home for one man.

  But a guy learns to guard his solitude like a dragon guards his gold after being shoulder to shoulder in prison for a full year.

  The reminder pulls me out of my memories, reminds me of why I’m here. Savoring one deep breath, I head back to the car.

  I have an appointment and I don’t want to be late for it. No—I can’t be late for it.

  I have very specific needs, ones that help me deal with the demons of the past by regaining control, however momentarily. And being back in Galveston makes me feel about as out of control as I’ve felt since the day I was released from prison and realized that I had nowhere to go.

  The Mercedes is a smooth ride, and gives me a twinge of satisfaction as it maneuvers seamlessly through streets that are the same but different. That twinge comes from knowing that I bought it. That I could buy a thousand more.

  The scarred, terrified boy no longer exists. He died that night, rather than Theo.

  And in his place is someone who made something of himself, against all odds.

  My GPS directs me to a warehouse style building that once housed a large grocery store. Knowing what’s inside now, the image makes me smirk.

  It’s Galveston, not New York, so there are no valets to hand my car off to. Not surprised, I park the Mercedes around back of the building and park. I’m not overly worried about theft or vandalism. While I’m proud to have been able to buy a Mercedes, I’m also not overly attached to it. It’s a thing. I can always buy another.

  The VIP entrance in discreetly marked, accessed by the key card I’ve carried in my wallet since I decided I was coming back to Galveston. There’s a solitary guard standing inside, but he waves me through after a quick once over.

  I’m not wearing a suit right now, but I know I’m a far cry from the sketchy kid I once was.

  The venue isn’t anything special—just a bar that tried hard to be classy and slightly overshot the mark. But its reputation is solid, and they’re thorough in vetting their clients. More than that, they are discreet, and this is key.

  No one can know that I’m here. No one.

  I don’t make it two steps before a tall man dressed all in black leather falls into step beside me. “Mr. Thorne.” He uses my real name because we’re still in the bar part of the facility—we haven’t yet ventured upstairs.

  Well, and he also uses my name because it’s what he used to call me. Like me, the man beside me has grown up—he used to be skinny, dark, maybe even a little on the Goth side. Tristan and I had never cared if he wanted to wear nail polish, so he’d hung around us some, back then.

  Seems he grew nearly a foot after high school, filled out some too. Most of his piercings are gone, save a bar in his eyebrow, but his eyes are still ringed with dark.

  I can feel him studying me, just I am him. After a moment we both crack, and I can’t hold back the grin, offering him a hand for a manly slap.

  “Nice to see you, man.” He nods as he slaps my hand. “Mr. Bigshot now, huh?”

  “I do okay.” I can’t keep the straight face and wind up grinning. I gesture discreetly with my arm. “Your place, huh?”

  He nods enthusiastically, a bit of the kid he once was coming out. “Yeah. Well, mostly. I’m a 75% owner so far. I’ll be buying out the rest as soon as I can.”

  His mouth opens to tell me more, but a woman brushes up against him then—a complete Jessica Rabbit look alike. Curvy body, red hair. I check her out because, hey, I’m a guy, and feel the slightest bit of interest stir.

  I’ve never been able to shake my penchant for redheads.

  “Good evening, Sir.” The woman addresses Gavin with clear interest sparking in her eyes. I’m pretty sure that protocol isn’t enforced in this part of the building, but hey, maybe that’s the only name of his that she knows.

  “Elsa.” When Gavin looks her over, I can see the change in him—the transfer from high school buddy to a Dominant. It’s fascinating, and I wonder if a similar transformation ever comes over me.

  I’m more inclined to think that I’d rigid like that all the time. In fact, I’m sure that I am.

  “On your way to an appointment?” It’s interesting to see my skinny old friend pull on that magnetic persona that has this woman’s cheeks flushing.

  “Oh, yeah.” Her stare flicks my way, and I note
the feminine appreciation in her eyes. Appreciation, but not that cloying sweetness that I’ve come to recognize as a warning sign. No, just carnal interest. “I’m about to get my world rocked.”

  “Lovely for you. Shame for both of us.” I arch an eyebrow at her, sensing that she’s fun, and there’s not nearly enough fun in my world. Elsa grins, gives a little wave and turns, heading for the stairs that lead to where the most interesting activities are held. There’s a little swish to her hips, a sauciness that makes me think she’d make a fun partner for the night.

  But apparently she’s already occupied. Pity.

  Glancing sidelong at Gavin, I find him rolling his eyes at me.

  “Now that your gratuitous flirtation is over, I might remind you that you have an appointment as well.” Gavin gestures at the stairs.

  “And no one knows I’m here?” I’m confident of the answer, but want to hear it from his mouth.

  “No one but me.” His tone is steady, calm. “And to keep an extra limit of anonymity since we’re friends, I forwarded your limits checklist and profile, minus your name of course, to my assistant, and had her do the match. It was blind on that end too. I approved the profile and checklist that was chosen, and beyond that, I only know that you have a woman ready and waiting for you, in the scene you have set.”

  “Excellent.” Inhaling deeply, I absorb the electricity in the room—energy that comes from all of the stunning displays of power exchanges.

  I start to climb the stairs, but Gavin calls me back. “One last thing. I know that you requested an experienced partner. This woman is new. However, everything else on your lists meshed so well that we truly thought it was the best match.”

  This gives me pause; I don’t play with beginners. Ever. I like women who know what they want, know their limits, wand want to pushed to the very edge.

  But tonight, with the sweet girl I once knew laying so heavily on my mind...

  This could fit into my fantasies very well.

  So I nod at Gavin, and begin to ascend the stairs again, this time with a rush of anticipation adding to my level of awareness.

  “You’re in room two.” Gavin calls up after me. “Everything will be as you asked.”

  Maybe it’s the sense of kinship with Gavin that I hadn’t expected, or maybe it’s the inevitable convergence of memories, the surf crashing into me, each ripple whispering a memory. A tendril of bright panic, something I haven’t felt in years, flickers through me light the lightest lash of a whip.

  It would be so easy to lose myself here. To shed the shell of the man I’ve become, to expose the soft white underbelly of the boy I’d been.

  At the end, it is that panic that gets me moving again. That’s why I arranged for a guest membership here, to this club—to help me maintain control. Hell, it’s why I looked for control in this manner in the first place.

  The only reason I’m in Galveston at all is the same reason I had to leave it. And I need to be on my game, in control, or I could lose it all.

  Shaking my head to clear it of these thoughts, I walk down the corridor to room two. Familiar anticipation fills me as I place my hand on the doorknob.

  Who will be on the other side? I have a general idea, given my preferences, but still, every last woman is different. Their coloring, their shape, the way they respond to me. Beautiful creatures giving me a precious gift, even if it’s never exactly what I want.

  What I want, I can never have. So I will take my pleasure where it comes.

  Opening the door, I step inside. As per my instructions, the woman is at the window, draped in darkness. Her shadow is a curvy silhouette on the wall.

  Like me, she’s dressed in black, a simple dress that leaves her legs, arms, and neck bare. It’s the legs that catch my attention first. Slender, but defined with curves of muscle. This one works out hard. It’s a turn on—I like discipline. More, I like woman who look healthy, who take care of their bodies, and by taking care I don’t mean subsisting entirely on salads with cut up chicken on them.

  This woman? She looks powerful enough to resist me.

  We both know she won’t. At least, not in the end.

  I take a step toward her. She turns her head slightly at the noise, and that’s when I notice that she’s a redhead. With only the candlelight flickering in the room, I hadn’t noticed when I first opened the door. My mind flashes to the woman I’d met downstairs—Elsa—and I feel a momentary smug pleasure, thinking that I’d gotten the woman who caught my eye after all.

  But this isn’t the same woman. I can see that now. Apart from the difference in attire—Elsa had been poured into red leather—the woman I’d met downstairs had clearly not been a neophyte in this world. Her posture, silhouetted in the window, might have a hint of tension borne from anticipation, but it wouldn’t be what I see here.

  This woman? She’s wearing the mask, as I instructed, so she can’t see me, but she’s jerking her head nervously over her should, trying to see me. Trying to gain control. Her entire body is rigid with tension, a tension that goes beyond anticipation.

  This is why I don’t play with novices. I’m not a nice man, and I don’t have the patience to break them in with the patience that they need. I should leave.

  I open my mouth to tell her that this won’t happen, though I’m annoyed that I’ll have to go down to the bar, have to go through the motions of flirtation to try to find a different play partner when I prefer to keep it like a transaction.

  Finished crossing the room, I lay a gentle tough on her shoulders. She stiffens slightly, and the small movement has her scent rising to my nose.

  Sweet. Sweet like candy.

  It sends blood rushing into my cock, hardening me to the point of pain in an instant. Need crashes over me like a wave.

  I don’t realize that I’ve pressed myself against her, my erection nestled into the hollow at the small of her back, until she gasps and reaches out blindly for the window. I hold very still, letting her get used to the feeling of me behind her.

  “You’re certain you want to be here.” Inhaling deeply, I savor that sweet scent. I know it’s not the girl that the perfume reminds me of, because Galveston isn’t quite that small, and also, the Allegra I knew was all softness and uncertainty, not strong and challenging, like I suspect this woman is.

  The woman pauses, sucks in a deep breath. I like that she appears to actually be mulling the question over.

  “Yes.” Finally she answers, her voice raw. I can hear the fervor behind it.

  Nervous she might be. Uncertain she is not.

  “Safe word?” I ask, which is standard protocol.

  “Thorn.” She licks her lips before she speaks.

  I turn on instinct upon hearing my last name, then realize she meant thorn, as in, the sharp part of a rose.

  I don’t know this woman at all, and even though I know she wasn’t actually saying my name, hearing it on her lips awakened a feral need inside of me, one that rarely came out to play.

  I’ve never believed in love at first sight, and I certainly am looking for nothing of the sort. But a click at first sight? A chemistry? Two people responding specifically to one another?

  There’s truth in that. And never mind that this woman is a stranger, that she’s wearing a blindfold, that I don’t know her name—that slight click is there.

  It doesn’t make any difference in my plans—this will only be for one night. But my usual scenes involve the exchange of power that I need, a physical release. Very clinical.

  As raw as I feel from being back in Galveston, the idea of gaining comfort, pleasure from a real connection, however strange?

  It appeals like water to a man who’s walked a thousand days in the desert.

  “I’m going to undress you now.” Catching the small tab of her zipper in my fingers, I slide it down, revealing an absolutely flawless back. A strong back, the snow colored skin marred by nothing at all, not even the band of a bra, because she’s not wearing one.

  T
he woman nods, and I stop, my hands spanning the curve of her slender waist. I can feel muscle beneath the soft skin, again telling me that is a woman who likes to use her body.

  “You will address me as Sir, or Master. You may choose which.” I absorb the shiver of her body that my words have caused. She liked that. Yes, she definitely wants to be here.

  “Yes... Master.” The words, coming in that throaty voice, make my cock pulse.

  I don’t require a woman to become a doormat in order to please me. There’s more pleasure to be had in slow submission.

  “Very nice.” Fisting my hands in the silky fabric of her dress, now bunched around her thighs, I pull until it gives way, pooling around her ankles.

  “Step out.” Hands back at her waist to guide her, I help her move over from the pile of cloth. I turn her so that she is facing me, her back to the ocean that I can hear outside.

  It’s my first full frontal view of her, and I’m mesmerized. She’s of average height, but that’s the only way that word applies to her. As she leans back on the windowsill, I can see her naked body in its entirety, the trim legs, the soft but strong stomach, the well defined arms. Her hair is up, and I contemplate making her take it down so that I can fist my hands in it. But that would hide the column of her neck, which is so white I find myself wanting to mark it with my teeth.

  She’s wearing full panties, which would have been an alarm bell telling me her neophyte status, if I hadn’t already known.

  They’re pink, edged in black lace, with a cute little keyhole cutout at the back that teases me by showing just the top portion of the divide between her absolutely fabulous ass. I slid my fingers under the edges, touching the tight silk of the bottom curves of her behind, and she moans shakily.

  “A beautiful ass is my favorite part of a woman’s body.” Untucking my fingers, I smooth my hands over the satin covering the firm globes. She pushes back into my touch, making me chuckle. “I love to admire them. Love to see them grow pink under my hand. And I especially like to fuck them.”

  She moans, though I notice that her hands clench tightly where they’re sitting on the windowsill. She’s doing just fine... in fact, she wants more.