Stepbrothers

Stepbrothers By Lily Harlem Stepbrothers: text copyright © Lily Harlem 2023 All Rights Reserved With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Lily Harlem. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s written permission. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Love Lily Harlem? Sign up for her newsletter to get a free ebook, enter contests, receive exclusive content and be the first to hear of hot new releases. Back Cover Information Not one, not two, but three sexy new stepbrothers. Hell yeah, life is about to get real interesting! This is exactly what’s happened to Clarice Miller. Her mother’s fourth husband has three sons, all unique in their own way, and also handsome, dominant, and, so it seems, madly attracted to their new stepsister. And she can’t deny she’s all aflutter whenever they’re around; her pulse rockets and her skin heats. Which one to choose? But should she choose any? They’re her new brothers, right, isn’t that kinky as fuck? The matter is quickly taken out of her hands when she displeases city boy, Parker, and he tips her over his knee for a spanking and then gives her what she’s been searching for. Hugh, a hunk of a fireman, doesn’t have a problem with his brother’s firm hand and soon shows her his wild side. But can she handle the eldest brother on top of Parker’s and Hugh’s passion-infused demands? He’s a too-hot-to-handle killing machine who turns up fresh from a war zone all brooding and mysterious and with very particular needs. Only time will tell if Clarice can keep her cool when life reaches boiling point. If she’ll be able to bend to her brothers’ will, and if her body is up to the challenge of taking everything they have to offer—at the same time. *This sexy book contains hanky-panky spanking and stepsibling shenanigans. Please do not buy if such material offends you. Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight About the Author Chapter One “Fuck, which room is it?” Clarice asked, impatience clawing at her. “Two, zero, one.” She gripped the arm of the hunk she’d picked up at Romy’s Bar and tottered along at his side. She was horny. She had an itch that needed scratching. And Scott—or was it Sean?—had given every impression he’d be up for the job. More than up for it, and he was damn sexy, too. She studied a numbered plaque then gestured left at the end of the corridor. “That way…Scott.” “It’s Sean,” he kind of growled. “My name is Sean.” “Er, yeah, course. Come on, Sean, let’s hit the mini bar.” He wrapped his thick arm around her waist, practically lifting her off the floor as they skimmed around the corner. “We’ve had enough to drink, there’s more important cravings to satisfy, don’t you think?” She giggled, enjoying being clamped against his hot, hard body. Through his black cotton shirt she could feel the outline of his torso, and damn, she reckoned she was going to be very impressed when she saw it. “You come to London often?” she asked. If he was a decent shag maybe they could meet up again. “Occasionally.” His voice was gruff. “So when are you next in town?” They came to a halt outside room two hundred and one. He pulled the key card from a black leather wallet. “Not for a while.” “Why? You off on holiday?” “Work.” He opened the door and held it wide with the flat of his palm. His brow was creased, his dark eyes narrowed. He gestured for her to enter. “What is it you do again?” When she’d asked before he’d been vague. “I told you, security.” “Ah yes.” She stepped in, and the moment she’d gone past him, the door shut with a resounding click. The next thing she knew she was locked up against him. His mouth hit down on hers, and he groaned, seemingly relieved to be giving in to his desires. Clarice squeezed close. He tasted of the peaty whisky he’d just drunk, and hot, hungry male. A thrill went through her, clenching her belly and dampening her panties—her barista job at Grind ‘n’ Go long forgotten. “Fuck, you’re a sexy bitch,” he said, kissing over her cheek and at the same time clasping her right breast over her top. She was breathless, her heart hammering, and she kicked away her stilettoes and then reached for his shirt, dragging it from the waistband of his black jeans with sharp, frantic movements. “If you want to call a halt…” he murmured, “say so now ’cause I’m nearly at the point of no return.” She yanked his shirt upward. “I don’t want to call a halt, and if you stop, I’ll kill you.” “Huh, you can try.” He stepped back, pulled off his shirt, and cast it into the velvety shadows. He dragged at his belt, snapping it through the buckle. Fuck! Her gaze dipped down his body. The guy was ripped. She’d hit the jackpot. His shoulders and chest were wide, his biceps bulged, and his abs a brick wall. He had a dark tattoo on his right pec, a simply drawn dagger with a snake coiled around the blade. “Strip,” he said gruffly and shoved his pants down