Step Brother: Off Limits (5 page)

“Oh, I want you to fuck me, Reed. I want you to fuck me hard.”

“Tatum, you’re going to rub your clit, and you’re going to come for me right now.”

“Oh, God, Reed, that feels so good. I wish it were your tongue on my clit.”

The thought of Tatum, spread out naked on her bed, rubbing her clit and thinking about me, was more than I could stand. I was getting close to an orgasm. “Rub your clit with one hand and pinch your nipple with the other. Come for me, Tatum.”

She started breathing faster, and I could hear the phone shifting as she used both hands to pleasure herself.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Tatum,” I said, rubbing the whole length of my cock. “I want to hear you come.”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna come, Reed. I have my nipple between my finger and thumb, and I’m pinching so hard it hurts. I’m rubbing my clit, and you’re gonna make me come. I’m going to come, Reed, right now.”

Her cries were muffled a bit as I heard the phone slip to the bed, and I jerked off thinking about her writhing in ecstasy on the bed. Goddamn, did I want her.

“Reed?”

“Yeah?”

“I just came all over my fingers because of you.”

I slowly stroked myself as my erection subsided. “Put your fingers in your mouth again. Suck your juices off.”

“Mmm,” she said, and I could tell her mouth was full.

“Tatum, you are the sexiest women I’ve ever met.”

“I want you to come home. I need you in my bed for real.”

“Baby, I’ll be there just as soon as I can, trust me.”

“I’m going to fall asleep tonight thinking about you inside me, and Reed?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I threw such a fit. Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. Sleep tight, gorgeous. I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up, and I realized I had a ridiculously huge grin on my face. Tatum was the entire reason.

I cleaned myself up and headed out to the kitchen, intending to tell Dad I was leaving right away.

“Hey, Reed.” Laura was in the kitchen fixing breakfast for Henry.

“
Bonjour
, Reed,” Henry said, jumping down from the chair to throw his arms around me.

I hugged him back, still having trouble believing I had a half brother young enough to be my son. “Morning, Laura. Gordon around?”

“He walked into town to see if he could set up a day of fishing for the three of you.”

“I don’t want to put the worms on the hook, Reed. Will you do it for me?” Henry looked up at me with enormous brown eyes that looked just like his mother’s.

I messed up his hair. “Of course.” I swiped a piece of bacon from the plate Laura was fixing for Henry. “Know when he’ll be back?”

“Any minute, I should think,” she answered, her upper-crust British accent making every word she said sound like a line from a movie. “Everything all right?”

“Yup. Just need to talk to him about when I’m going back to real life. I talked to the person running my shop, and I need to let her know when I’m going back to work.” I decided to keep my news about Tatum to myself for the time being.

“I don’t want you to go, Reed,” Henry told me. “I want you to live with us forever. Granny’s house has plenty of room.”

“That’s an understatement,” I said, thinking about the enormous estate in London. “But I have to go back to Las Vegas at some point, buddy. I have a company to run.”

“But Papa has plenty of money.”

“I know he does, but grown men earn their own money. Don’t worry, I’ll come visit you.”

Laura put the plate in front of Henry’s chair and waved him back into it. “He’s really going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss him too,” I said, surprised to realize it was true.

Laura got Henry settled and handed me a cup of coffee. “Step outside with me?”

I followed her onto the terrace, and we sat at the same table Dad and I had occupied the evening before.

“Gordon told me this morning that he’s going back on tour. Just a short one this time, but Henry’s going to miss his dad terribly.”

“Don’t tours take a long time to set up?”

“Not this one, evidently. There’s some new vodka being kicked off, and they’re doing shows in European capitals. Just six shows, and it’s an enormous sum of money. It’s huge profile, and Gordon’s call came last minute because someone else backed out. It’s no small blow to his ego, but he’s going to do it anyway. He leaves next week.”

“Well, I guess that makes my decision about when to leave a little easier.” I thought for a second. “Why aren’t you and Henry going with him?”

“It’s not exactly going to be an appropriate atmosphere for Henry. Apparently the owner of the vodka is a … well, we’ll call her an adult entertainer. It’s the sort of show with women dancing in cages. You get the idea.”

I laughed. “I guess Henry is a bit young for that sort of thing.”

“But you’re not.” Dad walked onto the terrace from around the side of the house. “I don’t think Laura’s terribly excited about my going, but the money’s just fuckin’ crazy.”

“I do trust you, Gordon, but you must admit your track record isn’t pristine.”

He leaned down and kissed her on the head. “I know. But I am, indeed, a changed man. You and Henry are more important to me than all the cage dancers in the world. I promise I’ll perform with my eyes closed.”

“How sweet, darling.” Apparently Laura could give Marla a run for her money in the sarcasm department.

She went inside and Dad sat down in her place. “So what do you think? Wanna tag along? Amsterdam, Berlin, Madrid? We could have a helluva time.”

“There’s no way. I have a business to run, Gordon.”

“What if you could promote your business on the tour?”

“What do you mean?” I was perplexed.

“I talked to my agent, and he thinks we can hook you up as one of the sponsors. As long as you do some publicity for the tour, they’ll give you a mobile studio to use for no charge. You can tattoo your way across Europe.”

“Whoa, Gordon. You shouldn’t have done that without asking me.”

“Why? Nothing’s set yet. It’s just an opportunity. You can build your brand, and we can spend some time together.”

I didn’t know what to say. I knew I should probably go back to Vegas, both for the shop and for Tatum, but the tour really could be a huge opportunity. “How long’s the tour?”

“Three weeks.”

“That’s it?”

“Yup. Three nights in each of six capitals. It’s a mini music festival with vendors and local acts featured on the nights leading up to the big show. We have one night off between each of the three-night gigs.”

“And they’re willing to give me a space without charging me? That sounds too good to be true.”

“They’ve already funded the show, and they’re adding you as a favor to me. They don’t have any other tattoo artists, and apparently one of the organizers is a fan of your work.”

“Wow.” My head was spinning as I realized just how much of an opportunity was in front of me.

“No strings?”

Dad got a funny little smile on his face.

“What?” I asked, instantly suspicious.

“Well, there is one requirement.”

“Spill it.”

“You have to agree to tattoo Pussy Katt on camera. She’s the vodka sponsor.”

I laughed. “So I have to tattoo a porn star?” I laughed out loud. “Shit, I’d pay to do that.”

“Than what’s the fuckin’ holdup?”

“I guess nothing. Let me think about it, make some calls, and I’ll let you know.”

“I need an answer by close of business today. It’s gotta move quick.”

“I understand.”

“Motherfucker.” I rolled over and felt around on the nightstand for my phone—its ring disturbing my sleep on one of the very few mornings when I could sleep late. Smiling as I remembered the previous night’s phone call, I hoped Reed was on the other end of the line, calling to tell me when his flight arrived. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was from a Las Vegas area code. “Hello?” I croaked.

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Who the hell is this?”

“It’s Stanford. Donald was kind enough to give me your number. I didn’t wake you up, did I? It’s nearly nine o’clock.”

There was something about the guy that really pushed my buttons, and not in a good way. “Stanford, it’s eight thirty on a Saturday morning. Yes, you woke me up. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Why yes, there is, pretty lady. I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of accompanying me on an outing guaranteed to get your father additional votes.”

“It’s entirely too early for mysterious invitations. What are you asking me?”

“Well, if you want to take all the fun out of it, Donald and Tina have an appearance at the party’s monthly meeting, and then all four of us can have lunch afterwards. Donald would be thrilled if you came, and in fact, he’s the one who suggested I invite you.”

I sighed and dropped the phone. I couldn’t think of any place I’d rather avoid than wherever the Vegas Republican party was meeting, and I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to spend time with less than Stanford Boyle. But if my dad really did want me there, maybe I should consider it.

I picked the phone back up. “Dad specifically said he wants me there?”

“Absolutely. Seriously, Tatum, it would be awesome if you came, and I promise you’ll enjoy yourself. I’ll make certain of it.”

“Well, it would get me out of going to the gym, I guess.”

“See, there you go. You look perfect, anyway. You can certainly skip a day at the gym, right?”

“You don’t know my drill sergeant roommate.” I sighed. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“Super!” Stanford sounded like an excited little kid. “I’ll pick you up at eleven forty-five.”

“You’re very precise, aren’t you?”

“Always. See you then?”

“I guess. Do you need directions?”

“Oh, I know where you live. I always do my research.”

“Well, that’s a little creepy.”

Stanford laughed, as if he assumed I couldn’t possibly be serious. “Oh, and Tatum?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re going for business casual, here, so slacks or a skirt would be great.”

He hung up, and I looked at the phone. Slacks? Who even says slacks anymore? Was it 1950?

I swung my legs out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen for coffee. Garrett had left me a note letting me know he wouldn’t be home until Monday morning.

“About time that man had a date,” I mumbled as I poured myself some coffee. I caught up on the news online, downed half a pot of coffee, dutifully did my sit-ups and pushups, and stared at my closet. “Not a single pair of slacks to be found,” I said, pulling out a casual denim skirt and a sleeveless top. I tossed a cardigan onto the bed and headed for the shower.

I was nearly ready when I heard the doorbell ring, and I headed out to let Stanford inside.

“Lovely home you have here, Tatum,” he said, sounding for all the world like a fucking Boy Scout.

And he was wearing freshly pressed khakis, of course. I nearly laughed out loud when I realized his khakis had pleats. Seriously, this guy needed to be brought into the twenty-first century.

“Thanks, but the house isn’t mine. It belongs to my best friend, Garrett.”

“Did he hire an interior designer? It’s beautiful.”

“No,” I laughed, thinking about how well Garrett fit the gay male stereotype. “He did it all himself.”

“You look perfect,” Stanford said, as I dodged a ridiculously awkward attempt at something between a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Wholesome and healthy, just what we’re going for.”

“Didn’t realize I’d be evaluated.”

“Always. And given your less-than-ideal publicity from Lake Tahoe, we have some image mending to do, you know.”

“Well, the good thing is I’m not running for office, Stanford. My dad is.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that my research shows that family members have a much greater impact on public opinion of male candidates than we ever realized.”

“Specifically male candidates?” I asked, intrigued despite myself.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s completely different for women. They need to be pretty, but not slutty, and as long as their kids aren’t ugly, my research shows their families have little to do with how well they poll.”

“Ugly kids, huh?” I repeated, as I headed toward my room. “Be right back. I’ll be ready in no more than five minutes.”

I was already regretting having agreed to go along with Stanford, and I hoped the event would be such that I could spend time with my dad, rather than with the insufferable little prick who was in the living room. I looked in the mirror. At least I looked good.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said as I came back out. “Where exactly are we headed?”

“Oh, it’ll be fun. We’re meeting at the gun range. We’ll do a couple of photo ops of the next mayor hitting the bull’s-eye, and then the Chamber of Commerce is hosting a luncheon.” Stanford opened the door for me. “Oh, I forgot to ask. Do you want to bring your own gun, or would you rather just use one the range supplies?”

I laughed out loud. “Stanford, I don’t have a gun. Not a big shooting aficionado.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t say that in front of a reporter. Guns poll well, and girls with guns poll even better.” He thought for a minute. “Do you know if Tina’s a good shot?”

“Seriously? How the fuck would I know?”

I thought Stanford’s eyes were going to bug out of his head.

“Calm down, there, missy. That’s no way for the mayor’s daughter to talk. I’ll find out myself.”

I contemplated telling Stanford to go fuck himself, but I was afraid he’d have a heart attack. “Let’s go,” I said, hoping the day would improve.

The drive to the gun range was filled with Stanford’s attempt to impress me with all the research he’d done that he was certain would tip the scales in favor of my dad’s victory. Though the election was months away, he’d set weekly benchmarks for polls, and had scheduled appearances everywhere he could think of. Even though I didn’t like the guy, he certainly sounded thorough and committed. He droned on and on, and I tried to pay attention.

But mostly I thought about how he wasn’t Reed. Reed would probably have said two words to every two hundred of Stanford’s, and while Mr. Boyle fretted constantly about how his actions and decisions would be interpreted, Reed just did what he wanted, damn the consequences. Even though those consequences—like the pictures in Tahoe—were sometimes difficult, I had to admire a man who lived his life and let idle chatter roll off his back.