Meet The Stepbrothers: A STEPBROTHER MENAGE ROMANCE Read Online Free PDF Page A

and over in his head.
    Patricia stood at the counter and prepared another lavish meal.
    “How do you like your eggs, dear?” she asked me.
    “Scrambled, please,” I replied.
    “Jamie likes his eggs sunny side up,” she said to me for no reason except to make me feel uncomfortable.
    I smiled.
    “Did Charlie wake you kids up last night?”
    James looked up at Patricia. “Charlie’s home?”
    “He came in late last night. Nearly gave me a heart attack,” Patricia said. “He came into our room to say hello. He just barged in without knocking.”
    “Where is he?” James asked.
    “He’s asleep. Gosh, it must have been four in the morning.”
    A patter of footsteps ascended the stairway from the basement. A familiar face emerged.
    “Hello, everyone,” Frank said as he entered the room. He was topless, with nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair was wet. His muscles were thick, bulging. The crevices between his abs were deep and dark with shadows. “Ma, is there another bottle of shampoo? I don’t want to use your fruity stuff.”
    “The fruity stuff is fine,” Patricia replied. “What’s wrong with the fruity stuff?”
    “I just don’t want to use it.”
    “It won’t make you less manly, Frankie,” Patricia replied.
    “I don’t want to be smelling fruit all day, ma.”
    “You can use James’s shampoo,” I said.
    “Really, James?” he asked.
    James looked up, and then looked at me.
    “Yeah, I guess so. Go for it,” James said.
    “Sweet, thanks bro.”
    “It’s just in our bathroom, by the sink,” I said.
    “Thanks.”
    Frank walked passed us, towards our little guestroom. I snuck in a quick glance of his ripped chest as he passed. His massive pecs must have protruded out two whole inches from his body. His back was just as impressive, two rippling hemispheres divided by a deep vertical fissure.
    “You can’t just fucking offer my shit to everyone,” James said quietly to me—quiet enough that his mother couldn’t hear.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that wasn’t okay,” I replied. My eyes were wide, shocked at his outburst.
    “What kind of toast would you like? Brown, white or sourdough?” Patricia asked.
    “Hmm… Sourdough, please,” I said.
    “Jamie liked brown toast.”
    “Ma,” James said.
    “Family!” a voice called out from behind me.
    I spun around.
    A man I knew only from photos on the mantle—Charlie—stood at the top of the stairs. He was wearing a pair of orange-tinted aviator sunglasses and a loose button-up shirt with a sporadically colourful pattern on it—a shirt straight out of the 90s, complete with spirals, triangles, squiggles and polka dots. 
    “Well look who showed up! If it isn’t little Charlie,” James said, standing up.
    James walked up to Charlie and the two brothers hugged. Charlie looked at me from over James’s shoulder.
    “Well I’ll be fucked, Jay,” Charlie said. “That looks like a lady.”
    “Charlie Kallo,” Patricia said sternly. “Watch your language in this house.”
    “Sorry, ma,” Charlie responded.
    “Hello,” I said, smiling and standing up.
    He walked towards me, extended his hand and bowed his head.
    “And, to whom do I owe this pleasure?” he asked.
    “I’m Brenna—Brenna Wilkinson.”
    “Brenna, my darling, you are absolutely stunning. James is beyond lucky to have found you.”
    I couldn’t help but blush.
    “Watch it, Charlie,” James said.
    Charlie smiled and pulled out a box of cigarettes. “Wilkinson, hey?” he said. “That a coincidence?”
    “How so?” I asked.
    “Ma’s a Wilkinson now too,” Charlie said.
    “It’s one hell of a coincidence,” James said.
    “Language!” Pat barked.
    “What do you mean?” Charlie asked, pulling a cigarette out from his pack.
    “Come outside and I’ll tell you about it,” James said.
    “You aren’t smoking those death sticks still, are you Charlie?” Patricia asked.
    “We’ll be right back, ma,” Charlie said.
    I sprung to my feet,