Seducing My Stepbrother (The Forbidden Fun)

But I’d picked up Mason’s phone by accident and was shocked when the face of a pretty blonde appeared on screen.

“You have a Matchy,” the words read. “Vanity would like to meet you.”

I stopped short. I’d long since suspected that it’d been Mason on Matchy that long ago night. At first, I’d shaken my head, no. Why would an Olympic hopeful be on Matchy? After all, my stepbrother was already famous. Time Magazine had recently featured him in its Olympics issue, so everyone knows who he is.

But it’s not that simple. Men, even powerful men, have trouble meeting women too, so why not look around on-line? After all, Mason is a busy man, and with Matchy, he could scroll through a bunch of profiles without having to meet in person. Besides, it was fun. It was almost like a game. Swipe left, swipe right, and maybe you’ll win a prize.

But what was this exactly? Clearly, Mason hadn’t deleted his account, but maybe it was something he’d long since forgotten about, like an orphan app on your phone. Plus, we’ve never talked about dating or relationships except in a very vague way.

Yet I couldn’t help myself. Out of curiosity more than anything, I scrutinized the blonde named Vanity. She was pretty but older, with dyed hair and an overly tan face. She was maybe around forty, or even forty-five judging from how tight the skin was pulled over her cheekbones. Plus, her body, from what I could see of it, was clearly past its prime with its too-orange skin and slightly sagging flesh. But it was clear she’d had a lot of work done and her boobs were big and waist tiny. Had Mason really matched with her?

I put his phone down resolutely. I’ve been with Mason non-stop these past few months, and there was no way he was dating anyone else. This whole Vanity thing was just a remnant from his single days. He had no time to meet anyone between practice, work-outs and meetings with sponsors, not to mention the hours we spent in bed.

Yet who was she? I shivered, my head spinning as I frowned. Come to think of it, there were some hours unaccounted for. After all, I worked nights at the Donkey while he slept. But Mason couldn’t be seeing someone else … could he?

13

Janie

The Olympics were fantastic. Frank, Paula and I had watched as Mason splashed to glory, his mighty form taking off like a rocket from the stops before cutting through the water like a shark. It was incredible, the way his muscles had gleamed. My lover was total domination in the pool and out.

But now, we were at an after-party and all of USA Swimming was in attendance. The music was loud, and everyone was smiling and chatting. Why not? Mace had just won two gold medals and was the hero of the hour.

“Mason!” said my dad, clapping the big man on his back. “You were amazing! We’re so proud of you.”

“Honey,” chirped his mom. “Were you nervous? You didn’t look nervous at all, and those medals look so good on you. Are they real gold?”

With a grin, Mason brought one up to his mouth and bit playfully, showing off his perfect white teeth.

“Yes, real gold,” he laughed. “We could melt them down if we wanted to.”

But before we could reply, a throng of admirers pushed us out of the way. Eye-popping flashes went off as reporters peppered my lover right and left with questions. He’d never looked more handsome. His dark hair was still sleek from the water, and those blue eyes were sharp and piercing.

“Mason, how does it feel to win a gold medal for the United States?” chirped one lady reporter.

“Phillips, you broke the record in the one hundred IM. How does it feel?”

“Are you going to Disneyland now?” chimed in another to a general round of laughter.

We could only step back as my stepbrother was surrounded by a scrum of press, his six-four muscular form towering above the crowd like a God among men. I’d never felt so proud because he was gorgeous, magnetic, and he was all mine. I watched, my heart bursting with joy, smiling even though he couldn’t see me as we retreated so as not to be trampled.

But I tilted my head to the side and frowned a bit as I saw a blonde approach Mason. She was older, with dyed hair and an overly-tanned face. Plus, she stood out because she was wearing a mini-dress and heels when everyone else was in athletic gear.

With a proprietary air, the woman put her hand on his bicep, squeezing it playfully while looking up at Mason adoringly. He didn’t acknowledge her because he was so busy talking with the press corps, but the blonde wasn’t deterred and wormed up against him until she was practically pressing her boobs against his arm. At that, he turned. He gave her a slight smile before turning again to talk with the press while pulling his arm away.