Cannon (A Step Brother Romance #3) Read online

  Underneath her dress, her scent is intoxicating. I don't know what it is about her, but I could keep my face buried between her legs all the time and be a happy man. I can't get enough of her.

  "I want you to touch me," she says, and as I reach between her legs, lightly grazing her pussy lips with the tips of my fingers, she moans. My cock is rigid against the fabric of my tuxedo pants at the mere act of touching her, and I want nothing more than to plunge myself deeply inside of her tight pussy. But I wait.

  "What else?" I ask. I want her to tell me what she wants. I like to hear her speak the words.

  "I want you to lick me," she says, so I touch my tongue gently to her, licking the length of her, pressing my tongue against her clit, sucking it into my mouth as she makes little moaning sounds. Being between her legs like this is my idea of heaven, I think, as I slip my fingers inside her and she moans louder. I'm stroking her, bringing her higher and higher until she's urging me on, commanding me.

  "Fuck me," she begs. "I'm so ready."

  "Come on my face, first," I order.

  "Shit, Hendrix, I'm going to – oh, holy shit!" I fuck her harder with my fingers, feeling her pussy muscles squeeze around me as she begins to orgasm. Then she smacks the back of my head.

  "Oh, yeah, you like that," I say.

  "Hendrix!" She's coming on my fingers, smacking my head underneath her dress and I'm groaning, telling her how much I want to put my cock in her. "Get up!"

  "Hendrix!"

  I stop cold, my blood practically turning to ice in my veins, fingers paused inside her, unmoving, feeling Addy throb around me.

  That was definitely not Addy's voice.

  I'm going to actually pass out. Or have a heart attack. Or a stroke. People have strokes or heart attacks or faint in situations like this. It's the kind of thing you read about in the tabloids, the stories of weird one-in-a-million deaths. Leave it to me to be the one in a million.

  I might even die of humiliation. That has to be possible. I will die right here, right now, and the news article is going to read, Wholesome Country Music Star Dropped Dead With Her Stepbrother's Face Between Her Legs.

  "Hendrix!" my mother shrieks. "For Christ's sake, Colonel, lock the fucking door. Apparently that never occurred to you two geniuses."

  I smack Hendrix on the back of the head. Why is he still there, frozen under my fucking dress? His fingers are still lodged in my pussy, with our parents staring at us. He finally moves, coming out from under my dress, and it falls back down to the floor. He stands up and wipes his mouth, really playing it up for the parents, and now I'm really going to die.

  "What the hell is wrong with the two of you?" the Colonel bellows, lunging for Hendrix. His face is red, contorted with anger, and I see a look come over Hendrix that I've seen before. Hendrix puts up his arm and catches the Colonel before he can hit him.

  "You tell me what's wrong with us, sir," Hendrix says through gritted teeth.

  "Hendrix, don't," I say, my heart in my throat. I'm afraid if he hits his father, he won't stop.

  "This is…disgusting," my mother says, her lip curled up in a snarl. "What's wrong with you? He's your brother!"

  "Stepbrother," I correct. "It's none of your business who I date, mother."

  Beside me, the Colonel berates Hendrix. "I gave you a goddamned job, after you couldn't hack it in the real world. After you couldn't bring your squad back alive."

  It's like the Colonel's words are suddenly amplified in the room, and whatever my mother is saying seems to fade into the background, as if someone turned down the volume in her voice. She's talking about my contract or my deal or what people will think or some other bullshit, and all I can hear is what the Colonel says, echoing in my head. You couldn't bring your squad back alive.

  It's like it's all happening in slow motion. Hendrix draws his fist back and punches the Colonel across the face. My mother spins to the side in her evening gown and screams. And I call after Hendrix, call his name as he out the door.

  My mother turns toward me. "You see what you've done?"

  "What I've done?" I ask. I'm barely paying attention to her, more focused on going after Hendrix. "You're fired, Mother."

  "You spoiled, ungrateful little bitch," she says. For a second I think about pulling a Hendrix and socking her across the face too, but I don't.

  Then it's complete chaos. The door opens and one of the stage managers looks at us, blinking. "Ms. Stone," he says. "Is everything okay? It's almost time for you."

  "Change in plan," I say, stepping past my mother on the way out the door, my gown trailing on the ground behind me but I don't care.

  My mother has her hand on my stepfather's face. "Get him some ice," she yells at the stage manager. "Addison Stone, I'm contacting the attorney."

  "Ditto," I say, on my way out.

  "Hendrix!" Addy calls. She's walking toward me, her dress billowing behind her, the stage manager assigned to her taking short brisk steps to keep up while simultaneously talking rapidly into a headset and texting on his phone, his clipboard tucked under his arm. "Wait, please."

  When she catches up to me, she takes my arm, and I shake her away, even though part of me wants to take her in my arms and kiss her right there. I want to press my lips against hers, inhale her scent. More than that, I want to forget the shit my father just said, the thing that has me practically crawling out of my skin, wanting to get the fuck out of here. "Addy, go out there," I say. "I'll see you when you get done."

  "Wait, Hendrix," she says, her cheeks flushed. "What your father said about your squad – "

  I swallow hard. "Leave it alone, Addy-girl," I say. "Are you okay?"

  Addy smiles, her cheeks flushed. "Yeah," she says. "I think I am."

  "Where are they?" I start.

  "They're leaving," she says. "They'll be escorted out. They were my guests, and they're no longer welcome."

  "Security is probably going to come pick me up too, you know," I say, looking behind her. I expect men in suits to show up to escort me out at any moment.

  Addy shakes her head. "I don't think the Colonel will say anything," she says. "He's too arrogant to let anyone know you hit him and not the other way around."

  The stage manager interrupts. "This is really quite unprecedented, Ms. Stone."

  "What's unprecedented?"

  "We're on the move," the stage manager says, taking Addy's arm.

  "I'll be back in a few," Addy calls. "Wait here for me? And watch the show!"

  She disappears, and I'm left standing there backstage, surrounded by people I don't know but that I recognize from magazines, in their tuxedos and evening gowns, milling about like it's a cocktail party. I'm left standing there thinking about what my father said. You couldn't bring your squad back alive.

  The words play over and over in my head on a loop, and I'm not sure I can stand here watching an awards show when I'm so agitated that I just want to go run until I can't think anymore. I breathe in, trying to focus on now, instead of the images that begin to flash in my head, the images I can't erase.

  And then I hear Addy's voice on one of the many televisions scattered about the walls backstage, and I walk closer to it, ignoring the inane chatter and stupid conversations of the people around me, talking about their designer dresses and after parties later. Everything fades away into the background, the voices blending together and becoming a dull roar as I look at her.

  "I'm going off-script," she says, looking into the camera. "I was supposed to sing something from my most upcoming album, but I'm not going to do that. I'm going to sing something I wrote. It's not flashy, and the band isn't prepared for this, so it's just going to be me and a guitar. I hope you like it. And Hendrix, if you're watching, it's all for you. It always has been."

  My heart in my throat, I watch while Addy picks up the guitar and puts the strap around her neck. A few people standing behind me titter, and I turn around and shut them up with a look. Addy standing there in her shimmery white evening gown