Chapter Five

Aspen

After getting home and taking a quick shower to wash the smell of sex off of my body, I message Boston to let him know I made it home fine, then we texted back and forth until my eyes got too heavy to keep open.

When I woke up this morning, I had a smile already plastered to my face. One that not even the reality of moving and having to completely start over at a new school can wipe away.

After quickly showering, again, not wanting to meet my new siblings while in a compromising state, I dress and skip down the stairs with a pep in my step.

“Hey, honey,” mom greets me as I step into the kitchen.

“Hey, mom. Need any help?” I ask, walking up next to her to see what she’s cooking. “Are we feeding an army?” I ask when I take in all of the bacon, eggs, sausage, and pancakes that mom has made and the hash browns that she’s finishing up.

“No, sweetpea. I just want to make sure there’s enough for everyone.” She says, turning around to look at me with a smile. “I’ve got this, why don’t you go set the table. Collin said he was going to wake the others.” As she says this she acts like she’s going to swat me with the spatula, but I shift away too quickly. We’re both giggling and playing around in the kitchen when I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later Collin walks in and behind him is…

Holy.

Fudgesticks!

There are four identical boys staring back at me and two of them have their mouths hanging open in shock.

“Boston, Lincoln, Dallas, Jackson. This is the woman I was telling you about, Ashlynn, and her daughter, Aspen. Ladies, these are my boys.” Boston begins coughing as I just stand there, staring at the four boys in front of me, worrying my bottom lip and thinking about how absolutely fu*cked I am.

Needing to get away for a moment, I excuse myself and slip past the boys and their dad and run upstairs to my room. As soon as the door is closed, I sink to the floor, my back resting against its hard surface as I try to get my breathing under control and wrap my head around the fact that…

Boston and Lincoln are my stepbrothers…

What in the actual hell?

What the hell are the chances of that even happening?

I had sex with one of…

I hear their voices as they come down the hall. “Did you know?” One of them asks.

“Fu*ck…” another swears.

“What’s going on?” A third person asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah, what are we missing here? Bos, Linc?” says who I’m assuming is the last of the four brothers.

The door to the bedroom next to mine shuts and I hear, “Fu*cking hell…”

“What are you going to do, Bos?” That must be Lincoln.

“Fu*ck if I know,” Boston mutters.

Crawling into my bed, the tears that I’d been fighting back break through, and I bury my head in my pillow to hide the sound of my crying. What’s worse is I don’t even know why I’m crying.

I’m not mad that they’re my stepbrothers―that he is one of my stepbrothers. It’s not like that’s any of our faults, but I guess I do feel… let down.

I feel my bed dip and I assume it’s my mom coming in to find out what’s going on. Imagine my surprise when a pair of lips press against my shoulder and a weakly murmured, “Aspen…” hits my ears.

Turning my head to look at him, seeing his conflicted feelings playing out clearly on his face, I roll into him, burying my head in his chest as my tears begin soaking into the fabric of his gray shirt.

“I didn’t know…” I mumble, unsure if he can even hear me.

“I know,” he responds. “I didn’t either. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I sob, shaking my head back and forth.

Boston tries lifting my head up, but I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. I just can’t. So instead, I keep my face turned down.

“Hey, look at me, ba-Aspen. Please.”

When I don’t listen, he dips his head down until we are looking at one another eye to eye, “Are you…” He breaks off, biting his bottom lip, “do you regret what happened between us?” he finally asks.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

I don’t.

I don’t regret it in the least but that doesn’t mean it’s right, that’s it’s something that can continue…

“No,” I say matter-of-factly, lifting my head so that he doesn’t have to duck his in order to see me. Even now, knowing that he’s my new stepbrother, I still want to feel his lips on mine. I still want to feel the weight of his body against mine. I still want to feel him moving inside of me, bringing me pleasure like I have never known.

“I don’t regret it, Boston. Not at all but…”

Cupping my cheek, Boston drops his head and k*isses me on the lips this time. “No buts, this changes nothing, because I don’t regret it either,” he mutters before claiming my mouth again, this time sweeping his tongue against the seam of my lips, wanting entry.

I quickly pull away, “Wait!” I say, holding my hand up to stop him from kis*sing me again. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask, remembering the picture of the girl on his nightstand.

His brows draw in in confusion, “what are you talking about?” He asks grabbing ahold of my hand to keep me from moving away from him, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” He states as I try to pull my hand from his grasp, but the more I fight, the tighter his hold becomes. “Would you stop!”

“No.” I growl, “Now let go of me. Why don’t you go to her, whoever she is, if your dick needs attention?” As I say the words, I actually find myself kind of jealous, which is just stupid, right?

“What are you talking about?” He snaps, clearly getting irritated, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I think that I would know if I did.”

“I find that hard to believe.” I snap back, “I saw her picture on your nightstand. Guys don’t just leave pictures of girls next to their bed if they aren’t important to them.”

He releases my hand, his face suddenly transforming to one of someone who’s hurting. “She used to be my girlfriend.” He whispers. Then looking back at me, he takes a deep breath, schooling his features. “But, she’s not here anymore. I. Don’t. Have. A. Girlfriend.” He enunciates each word as he says them, his blue eyes watching me—likely trying to gauge whether I believe him or not.

If she’s not his girlfriend, then why does he have her picture sitting right next to his bed As I think this, his face dips closer to my own.

“Then why do you have her picture on your nightstand?” I whisper against his lips.

“I keep it there as a reminder.” Before I get the chance to question what he means by that or ask anything more, he closes the last bit of distance, crashing his lips to my own.

I get lost in the ki*ss for a moment, before coming back to reality. Breaking away, I shake my head, “Okay, so you don’t have a girlfriend, which is good but we still can’t do this.”

“Why?” He asks, his voice gravely with desire. “Our parents being married doesn’t change anything—I told you that.”

“How can this not change anything?” I ask, shaking my head back and forth, “You’re my stepbrother. This changes everything, Boston.”

“Because,” he mutters before going in for a chaste k*iss, “we’re not blood-related.” Another kis*s, this one lasting slightly longer, as Boston wraps his hand around the back of my head, readjusting us until I’m straddling his lap and able to feel him.

“We can’t do this, Boston. We just can’t.” I say, shaking myself from my Boston-fueled lust once more and pulling back, albeit reluctantly, trying to slide off of his lap.

Wrapping his hands around my waist, he holds me in place, “Yes, we can. We’re not doing anything wrong,” he mutters, removing his right hand from my hip, but still holding me firmly in place. He cups my cheek with the other, making me look him in the eyes, “I want you so fu*cking bad, baby.” Boston growls those last words as he thrusts his hips up, his erection rubbing against my pussy, making me moan at the contact.

“Do you feel what you do to me, baby?” he whispers, trailing kis*ses down the column of my neck.

“Boston…” I moan at his next hip thrust, a deep ache growing between my thighs with his every thrust.