Fracture

6. Levi

CHAPTER 6

LEVI

I'm not gay. I’m not gay. I’m really not.

My fingers claw into the car door as I repeat the mantra over and over in my head. But it’s pointless, because a man I just paid a hundred bucks to suck my cock has his head in my lap, bobbing up and down as his mouth works me hard. If I wasn’t about to blow my fucking load right down his throat, I could almost believe the words I keep telling myself.

But here, in the dimly lit parking lot, I look down at this man, run my fingers through his thick dark hair, and I know I’m lying to myself.

I’d never been attracted to men before. I was popular with the girls in high school, and had a reputation, one I was proud of. The back seat of my Camaro was the scene of plenty of moaning and screaming, girls telling me they loved me, trying to tie down Levi Fenton because he was good in bed and loved eating pussy.

But then in prison, being close to Dylan every day, things started to shift. He grew into a man, bulging with muscle, and he was just so fucking beautiful. I’d never been intimidated by a man before. I’d never been intimidated by anyone before.

And then yesterday, watching Dylan walk out of the water, his brown skin glistening in the sun, his face triumphant after giving Jared fucking Marshall a piece of his mind - he looked so fucking good, and since that moment all my desire and longing was too much. I needed to do something to tamp all those feelings down. So this morning, I went downtown and bought a car, then spent too much time trying to find a quick hook-up.

But for some dumb reason, I didn’t want a woman. I don’t want any woman, but her.

I clench my eyes shut. No, I can’t think about that either. Not my little sister. This is all messy enough as it is.

Instead, I surrender to fantasies of my best friend, his eyes that are so dark they’re almost black, the way his mouth curves into that crooked grin. His abs, the snake tattoos around his neck. I clench my molars as my balls draw up tight, imagining bracing my hand around Dylan’s neck, feeling him straining and moaning as I sink my cock into his ass.

Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with me?

The man’s mouth sucks me harder, and my head slams into the headrest as I moan loudly, my cock pumping hot jets of cum down the man’s throat. The man licks and sucks up every drop of me, and a sick feeling lands in my stomach. I run my hand over his head, but it’s wrong. I’m seeking out a stubbled head, a scar over the right ear, the warm steel of his piercings.

A stranger just sucked my cock, and all I can think of is my best friend, and wishing it was him instead.

I run a hand over my heated face, and the man sits up, regarding me with a grin.

“Who’s Dylan?” He asks.

My heart fucking leaps into my throat. “What?”

The man runs his fingers along his lips. “Dylan. You said that name when you came.”

“I - what?” That sick feeling increases. “I mean, he’s, he’s just a friend.”

“Just a friend, huh?” The man leans across and runs a finger along my jawline. “Listen, I get it. I see it all the time. Confused guys like you, experimenting with men like me.” He kisses my cheek gently, and I like the feel of his lips way too much. “Trust me, handsome, whoever this Dylan is, you’ve got it bad.”

“I’m not gay.” Saying it out loud makes me feel even more foolish.

The man laughs lightly, and opens the car door. “Sure, honey. Tell Dylan that.” He climbs out, closing the door behind him and disappears across the parking lot.

I sit with the heavy, sick feeling for a while, tucking my dick away and trying to get a handle on my breathing. Dylan is my best friend, and now my business partner. He’s also madly in love with my sister. I can’t come between that. I can’t ruin this for them both.

My phone buzzes in the dash, and I pick it up to see a message from Stella.

Next time you throw a party, maybe let me know first.

Shit, the party. I need to get back, right now. With a final deep breath, I gun the engine of my new bright blue Alfa Romeo, and head out of the parking lot into the fading evening light. I try to morph into some semblance of Responsible Adult. I have to present myself as the new boss to these guys, and the deep shame I feel over what I just did, and what I thought while I did it, just will not let me go.

Thankfully, in the fifteen minutes it takes me to cross town and pull into Stella’s driveway, I calm down. I put on the cocky grin, the well-rehearsed mask. I can do this .

Until I see Dylan hauling a keg over his shoulder. With no shirt on.

Three more deep breaths, and I force myself out of the car.

“Hey!” Dylan calls, heading across the drive into the garage. “Where were you?”

“Sorry, I had some errands to run and lost track of time.” I’m trying to be calm, but I’m sure there’s a neon fucking sign over my head saying I just said your name while I ejaculated in another man’s mouth . More deep breaths. I follow him into the garage, where music plays softly over the speakers.

“Stella’s pissed,” Dylan tells me, placing the keg behind the bar. “I feel like we’re doing one thing wrong after another here.”

“She’ll be OK, it’s not like we’re 16 and the house is going to be trashed.”

Dylan laughs, flashing me a broad smile. “No, so responsible now, right?”

I swallow so hard I swear my Adam’s apple is going to bounce right out of my throat. “So responsible. Yeah.”

Dylan cocks an eyebrow, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “You OK?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I gesture to the driveway, desperate for a change of subject. “See the new car?”

“I did, it’s a real nice color.” Dylan leans around the bar to get a better look. “I need to get one, too. At least try and act like an adult.” He puffs out a breath. “Not that I think it’ll make much difference.”

The brief flash of sadness in his face and the heavy tone in his voice make my stomach twist, placing a strain on my lungs that makes me feel sick. I can’t act on this. Not with Dylan. Not with Stella. He wants her so badly, he loves her and I need to support them. I have to swallow all that down.

They’re not meant for me.

Thankfully, I don’t have much more time to dwell on those thoughts, as a truck engine roars up the street and dies right outside the house. Dylan pulls his white shirt on and gives me that crooked smile that makes my heart stop.

“Ready, Mr Boss Man?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, and we turn to meet the first of our new employees.

Within an hour, the garage is buzzing with conversation, liquor flowing freely and friendly pool games being played.

“You two, you’re alright.” Eric, one of the older mechanics, clinks his glass against mine, and I answer him with a smile.

“We just want to do right by you all and by Mario.”

“I appreciate that.” Eric nods, looking out over the garage. “Nice place you got here.”

“It’s my sis-” The word dies on my tongue, and that sick feeling from this afternoon comes back like a freight train straight through my gut. Eric eyes me questioningly. “It’s, uh, my step-sister’s place. She let us stay after we, well, we got out.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that. You two, you, uh.” His eyes dart around the room, and he lowers his head towards me. “I heard you two killed your step-father.”

“It was an accident.” The lie. The well-rehearsed lie. “He attacked Dylan, and well, shit got out of hand.”

“Sorry about that man, that sucks.” Eric sighs heavily, taking a swig of his drink, his eyes wandering over my shoulder. And they nearly drop out of his head. “Holy shit.”

The garage goes strangely silent, only the low beat of music humming around us, and I turn to see what’s caught every man in the room’s attention.

Stella parades across the back porch in a scandalously small yellow bikini, martini glass in hand and a towel draped over her arm as she makes her way to the hot tub. Her hair is piled on top of her head and secured with a matching yellow scarf. She looks like she just wandered out of an old movie, or a high-class porno, I can’t decide which.

“I guess that’s your sister,” Eric says with a low laugh, and I think I’m going to throw up.

My sister. Yeah, sure, my little sister who looks good enough to fucking eat right now. My sister with tits to die for and an ass I could spend an entire night leaving teeth marks in.

Stella doesn’t look at us at all, merely sets her phone down in a dock on the small table beside the hot tub, and with a swipe of her fingers, music starts blaring, totally drowning out our own. A woman sings about I don’t need a man , and it’s so bratty and obvious I can’t help but laugh, while also being overcome with the urge to run up onto the porch and fuck the brat right out of her.

You’re not gay, and you’re not into incest. Back the fuck up.

Stella lowers herself into the hot tub, still ignoring us, and takes a sip of her martini. The men around me gradually start to move again, finally broken of the trance of watching this bronzed goddess of a woman parade her body right in front of their fucking eyeballs.

I need a drink.

I excuse myself from Eric and head to the bar, where Dylan is already pouring himself a shot. His face is warring between frustration and admiration, his eyes flickering up to where Stella is languishing in the water.

“Drink?” He holds the bottle up, and I nod. “She’s a fucking tease, man.” He pours me a shot of whiskey, and we both down them without another word.

“She sure is.” I cast a glance over my shoulder to see Stella’s head bopping back and forth gently in time with the music against the edge of the tub. “She’s just messing with us.”

“What’s that?”

I realize what I just said and turn back to Dylan with a smile. “I said she’s messing with you. Trying to make you see what you’re missing.” I’m going to lose my fucking mind. I decide then and there to try and get my own place as soon as possible and get as much distance between me and Stella and Dylan as I can, before this whole situation goes south.

Suddenly, the men around us whoop and laugh, and a few whistles go up. Dylan’s face is like fucking thunder.

“She just took her top off,” he growls through gritted teeth.

I whip around to see Stella’s naked back leaning over the edge of the tub as she selects another song on her phone. The yellow bikini top has been cast onto the porch beside the tub. Rage surges through me as I look at the men around me, ogling her as she’s up there basically naked.

But I have to be professional. I can’t fly into a fucking possessive rage on my new employees, not least of all because Stella would fucking love that. Getting a reaction like that out of me? She’d eat that up.

“OK, fellas, we get it.” I raise my voice and hold up a hand. “Let’s get back to pool, and stop eye-fucking my sister, please.”

The word sister has the intended effect even though it makes my skin crawl. The men all respectfully lower their eyes with abashed chuckles. The conversations start up again, and I give Dylan a pointed look.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell him, before I cross the garage and go up the porch steps.

Stella watches me approach, swirling her hands through the water.

“Hey bro ,” she purrs, giving me a sly smile. “Good night?”

“Great night. You?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m having a great time. Enjoying the stars and my martini.” She leans her head back, which lifts her chest so her breasts are bobbing just below the surface of the water, and I need to take those three steadying breaths again. “Next time you have a party, brother dearest, maybe give me some warning so I can reschedule my skinny dip.”

“I’ll keep that in mi-” Her bikini bottoms hit me in the face before I can finish my sentence, sending warm water straight down my front, and a chorus of cheers from the men in the garage. I brush the droplets from my eyes, and Stella smiles at me sweetly.

“Hand me my towel, would you?”

I lean over the edge of the tub, seething and soaked and fucking dying to slap that ass that I know is naked below the surface of the bubbling water. “If you think I’m going to let you get out of this tub buck-naked in front of all these men, you got another thing coming.”

She pouts and holds up her hand. “But I’m starting to prune.”

“Stella, I swear to god.”

“What?” She moves through the water towards me until we’re face to face. “What’re you going to do, Levi? What would you do if I stood up right now?”

I’m barely containing my rage. This perfect face that won’t stop grinning up at me is driving me fucking crazy, and all I can think about it forcing those pouty lips apart and shoving my cock down her throat to show her who’s boss. And she’d love it. I’d make her love it.

Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you, man?

“Come on, Levi.” She rises a little, so the water bobs just below her nipples. “You going to preserve your little sister’s innocence?”

Innocence, my ass. I know she’s playing. I know she’s doing this to punish me and get a rise out of me. She’s not doing this to entice me. It’s not like that. But then all I can think about is her standing at my doorway, watching me sleep naked, wondering what she was thinking, and suddenly it feels like she is fucking taunting me. Like she’s trying to push me, me, not Dylan.

I want to push back. I want to play right into her game and see how devious the sparkle in those amber eyes can get. But I know Dylan is watching us right now, probably wondering why my step-sister is sitting right in front of me giving me half an eyeball of perfect, round tits.

Fuck, don’t think about her tits that way .

Stella seems to sense her triumph, and with a loud swish she rises to her feet. Her slippery body is on full display, and I step back and gawp at her for a split second. She’s fucking perfect. Huge tits and a round ass that’s begging for the slap of my hand, a tiny waist against which is perched a manicured hand.

The whistles and cheers from the garage bring me to my senses, and I snatch up the towel and throw it around her before the men see too much of what I do not want to share with anyone. The men clap and laugh, and Stella waves haughtily.

Dylan is standing by the garage door, his face incandescent with rage.

“Stella, get inside now,” I command in a low voice.

She steps out of the hot tub, clutching the towel around herself, and shrugs. “I thought I’d come join you all for a drink.”

I grab her by the elbow and drag her towards the back door. “Get inside, dry off and get dressed.”

“Or what?”

Fuck . That bratty, lilting fucking voice.

“Or nothing, just get dressed.”

“It’s so hot, maybe I don’t feel like getting dressed right now.”

Just inside the doorway, once we’re out of view of the garage, I back her against the door frame. Her face is lit up with excitement as I cage her in with my hands, her body showing the tension of fear, but fuck it makes me want her even more.

“You get inside and get dressed now or I will spank the brat right out of you, you hear me?”

Her mouth twists into a grin, but her pupils blow out at my words. “Spank me, huh? Put me over your knee?”

“If that’s what it takes.” My hands are balled into fists against the wall either side of her, determined to hold on to my self-restraint.

“Would I be naked for this spanking?”

Fuck . “Stella, stop it.”

She blinks, feigning innocence. “Oh, I’m sorry, yesterday you wanted to read me smut and now you’re getting all uptight and antsy. That’s so weird, brother .”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” She puts a hand against my chest where my wet t-shirt clings to my skin. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Stella?” Dylan’s voice rings across the yard, and Stella blinks and shakes her head, as though coming out of a sort of trance. She braces her hand against my chest and pushes me away, hard. “Next time you throw a party, ask me first,” she spits out, before turning and pushing through the glass french door and disappearing down the hallway.

Dylan’s footsteps thud up the porch steps, and he regards me with confusion as I emerge from the shadows. “What happened? Where’s Stella?”

“She went in to get dressed.” I lean a hand against the wall beside me, and inhale deeply. “That girl, she’s… She’s a fucking brat.”

Dylan rubs his chin and nods. “Yeah, she sure is.” He gestures to my wet clothes. “Maybe you should go change and come back and join us. Stella probably needs to cool off.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” I head inside, and I know it’s a bad idea to follow Stella in here. For all I know she’s walking around the house naked somewhere, downing another martini to give herself the confidence to sass me some more. I drag my hands through my hair, my skin inflamed and my cheeks burning. Fuck, the things I want to do to her.

I take the stairs two at a time and when I get to the landing, I breathe a sigh of relief to see Stella’s door is closed. I head into my room and pull on dry jeans and a fresh blue t-shirt, and head back out. I walk quietly so Stella doesn’t hear, pausing at the top of the stairs when I hear a strange sound.

A buzzing noise.

What is that ?

I pat my pocket, and it’s not my phone vibrating. Then I hear a moan, and turn to look at Stella’s door. Like a moth to the fucking flame, I edge closer to the door, and realise - Stella’s getting off mere feet from where I’m standing.

She was fucking taunting me . And now she’s as turned on as I am .

I want to tear open that door and see what she’s doing. I want to watch that pretty face as she comes. I take another step towards the door. I should turn around. This is wrong. Dylan’s downstairs. Fuck, she’s not mine. This is wrong.

Another soft moan. I’m going to go fucking insane.

Then there’s a roar of a motorcycle engine, and loud cheers downstairs, and I’m brought violently to my senses. Fucking asshole. Get the fuck away from her.

Shame coils around my throat as I head back down the stairs and outside to rejoin the party. The men crowd around our bikes, music plays loudly, and liquor continues to flow. Every now and then I cast a glance up at the house, to Stella’s room, and by midnight, the light is out.