Protector Read online

  Protector

  A billionaire step-brother romance

  Candy Quinn

  © 2017 Pathforgers Publishing.

  All Rights Reserved. If you downloaded an illegal copy of this book and enjoyed it, please buy a legal copy. Either way you get to keep the eBook forever, but you’ll be encouraging me to continue writing and producing high quality fiction for you. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Wicked Good Covers. All cover art makes use of stock photography and all persons depicted are models.

  This book is intended for sale to Adult Audiences only. All sexually active characters in this work are over 18. All sexual activity is between non-blood related, consenting adults. This is a work of fiction, and as such, does not encourage illegal or immoral activities that happen within.

  More information is available at Pathforgers Publishing.

  Contents

  Preamble

  Cole

  MacKenzie

  Cole

  MacKenzie

  Cole

  MacKenzie

  Cole

  MacKenzie

  Cole

  MacKenzie

  Cole

  MacKenzie

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by Candy Quinn

  Get More Romance & Erotica Here

  Preamble

  Book Themes:

  Step-Siblings, Masturbation, Pregnancy and Virgin

  Word Count:

  37,409

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  Cole

  My eyes opened as I became aware of the morning sunlight shining on my face, and it took me a second to realize the satin sheets draped over my body weren’t my own. My body protested against opening my eyes, but a few more seconds on the fluffy set of pillows my face was buried in didn’t do much to bring back the events of last night. I held in the urge to stretch out my body, which was naked, I realized.

  The sunlight was shining in through a tall window that overlooked what sounded like a busy street a few floors down. I looked around them to see nice brick walls and what looked like real hardwood floors. Hell, I couldn’t be that far from the club I’d been to last night. I gave a sleepy murmur and shifted a little, but my pounding head kept me down, and instead I settled on looking at the blank flat screen mounted on the wall opposite the bed.

  Huh, Drunk Cole might not have done too bad for himself.

  Before congratulating my past self too much, I let myself stretch out, every muscle in my body contracting blissfully as I turned over in the light lavender sheets to see who lay beside me.

  I stopped halfway as I realized a leg was draped around one of my own. The woman next to me had a face half-covered in her own dark brown hair, but a button nose poked out. Her body was veiled in the light sheets, but a shapely figure trailed down to the foot of the bed and shifted a little as I moved on the bed. I smiled. Well alright, not half bad, Cole. I leaned in and brushed hair out of her face, to which the woman’s eyes opened just a tad as she, too, seemed to be resisting the morning. Seeing me, they fluttered open wider, and she smiled. I kissed her on the cheek.

  “Good morning, Cole,” she giggled, turning away from me playfully.

  “Hey,” I smiled back.

  She stretched her own length—between the two of us moving around, we’d managed to get most of the sheets off them and crumpled in the space between them. I smoothed my side out and slid closer to the woman next to me.

  “After all you had last night, I’m surprised to see you up already, Cole,” she teased, and I felt my heart pick up a moment. Shit, what’s her name? Rather than trying to respond, I opted for the safer way out.

  I drew myself under the covers and over to the long, tan legs of the woman sprawled out next to me.

  “What’re you doing?” she teasingly drew back as she brushed her hair out of her eyes and tried to see where I was headed. She let herself sink back down into the pillows as she felt my mouth at her lips down below. “Oh…”

  I let a murmur of pleasure out as I explored the woman’s pussy with my tongue. I stroked her lips gently at first, brushing the smooth surface as I teased my way towards her clit. I felt the woman inhale sharply as I pushed my tongue up into it. I slipped my hands up around her hips as she started to rock them with the rhythm of my motions. I slowed her, trying to do the work myself as I plunged my face further into her warm mound. Her legs started to clench around me, and I felt her toes scrunch against my side as my facial scruff rubbed against her pussy. Erin, Julie, Leslie? Names flipped through my head, but despite my efforts to buy time, it wasn’t coming back any more than last night’s drinks. I could feel her getting wetter, and I started to grind my own hardening manhood against the bed as I worked. One of my hands drifted up to her breast, but I found her own hands already working her nipples gently. My eyes flicked up to her, but her head was back against the bed. She let it loll backwards in the throes of the relaxed feeling of waking up and the roiling ecstasy of having her pussy eaten. I started to work my tongue more rhythmically against her clit, putting steady pressure on with every stroke, like water from a showerhead. Rachel? Susan? Ashley?

  It didn’t take long. After only a few minutes of work, my face sopping wet from my own saliva and the woman’s juices, I felt a shudder in her pelvis as it contracted suddenly—she gasped loudly, muffled, and I looked up to see she had turned her head over to bite a pillow as she let herself get massaged by my tongue. I felt a series of little orgasms roll through the woman’s body before I let myself draw back and crawl up over her body to kiss her neck.

  “I don’t remember you being this forward last night,” she whispered into my ear, her long-fingered hand moving down to my cock and starting to massage its generous length.

  “You must have had too much to drink,” I husked back to her, holding her head by the chin and making her look into my eyes with a smile.

  The mystery woman gasped the next moment as I slid my throbbing member into her waiting pussy, and I found her hips already bobbing up towards mine in hungry anticipation. Just as hungrily, I devoured her naked brown nipples that rocked under me as I worked her cunt. Her hands explored my body as I did, her soft palms feeling up the thick muscles on my shoulders, the rough stubble on my pronounced jaw, drawing my face back up to hers to kiss it as her dark hair got tangled between us. Neither of us cared, we were lost in a haze of ecstasy as my well-honed body worked her cunt like a machine, bucking and pounding rhythmically as more orgasms rolled through her body. Tammy? Beth? Lauren?

  As soon as I realized the name just wasn’t going to come to me, I started to let myself ram into her pussy faster, feeling the muscles in my pelvis start to relax as the buildup of the orgasm prepared to wash over me. I heard her start to giggle in anticipation, and she let her arms fall back as she turned her head up just in time for me to pull my cock out of her with a wet noise. After I wrapped my hand around my cock, I think I heard her say “Please!” just as a long stream of pearly cum shot out and across her chest, all the way across her face. She gasped and let her head fall back onto the pillow as my knees buckled and I felt release wash over me, shot after shot of cum blasting out and onto her breast and belly. As my seed spent itself across her sweating, panting, satisfied body, I let myself slump to the side and exhale deeply, listening to her contented sighs.

  As she stood up to go clean herself off, I grabbed at her side playfully. She laughed at the tickle as I rolled out of bed to stand up shortly after. Blood rushed to my head, and I held it with one hand as the oth
er stroked my bobbing cock gently. The clock on the nightstand read 11:00 AM. While the mystery woman was still running some water in the bathroom, I grabbed my jeans and started to pull them on.

  “Don’t you want to stay for breakfast?” she stuck a lip out while toweling off as she watched me dress.

  “Little late for breakfast, don’t you think? Besides, I already ate,” I grinned at her from across the room and darted out before she had a chance to think about it.

  The kitchen was the kind of place there might be a lot of after-work house parties, I guessed, and I wonder if I’d stumbled in on one last night after the club.

  Pulling on my other shoe as I leaned against the counter, a note on the fridge caught my eye.

  Becky

  Sounds like you got home safe last night, LOL! Seriously, careful with that fucking stud you brought home, and don’t let the new cleaning lady get a hold of him. Cake from last night is in the fridge! —Carla

  I snapped my fingers and chuckled to myself. Becky. Not that it mattered now, anyway, I figured as I hustled down the stairs and out into the hot summer morning to find where I’d left my motorcycle. A decent way’s walk back towards the bars and there she was, in the usual garage, and I was on my way home with the wind whipping around my torso.

  My own apartment wasn’t that far away. I didn’t like being too far away from the city’s nightlife scene. It was the same condo I’d been posted up in since I was 17, and it still felt as new as the day I’d moved in. Most of the neighbors were the kind of people who owned the offices around town—attorneys, a few docs, that kind of crowd, but most of them young enough that there wasn’t any fuss when we threw ragers up there. Probably because most of them liked using the pool on the roof that I owned. I left my bike in one of the private garages, watching the sunlight glint off its sleek, gunmetal-grey body as the shutter door closed and I headed up to the elevator.

  Part of me always wanted to move a few blocks down, just because some of the memories of how I got this place nag at the back of my head when I remember slumping into the elevator for the first time, heart still pounding from the fight I’d had with my dad.

  Todd van der Hausen might have been one of the biggest middle-aged stars in Los Angeles, but he couldn’t have been a worse father. He was always out at this dinner or that reception, always leaving us at home to make some new connections at the hippest parties, and more than anything else, always talking to some new squeeze hanging on his arm, hoping for a new lead.

  That was probably why Mom walked out on us when I was 16. I couldn’t blame her, either, not with how much he was fooling around away from home. Last I’d heard, she had boarded a plane to Europe and hadn’t made contact with us since then. His place just felt empty after that, and it was all his fault. He yelled at her so much the few times he actually was home, I’m surprised she had as much patience as she did, especially after what happened to Chelsea.

  Chelsea was my sister. When she was 10, she was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis, and her health was already taking a sharp turn down at that point. She and I had always been close, going on boat trips with Mom together, playing together on long, overseas plane rides, and even starting to take up horse riding just before she’d gotten ill. She was gone a year later, just before my 14th birthday.

  It felt like Dad hardly noticed. Sure, he was there for the funeral, but the next day he was out at another nightclub with some new Brazilian actress who co-starred with him in a blockbuster he’d been shooting the whole time Chelsea was sick.

  Mom leaving was just the tip of the iceberg. I’m sure she knew about his affairs, but her actually up and leaving sent the media into a frenzy. For a few weeks, I couldn’t even leave the house, the press was hounding both of us so hard, and the last thing I wanted was to spend another second under the same roof as him. So when I told him that he was going to pay for my new condo in the city or I’d let the paparazzi know about the rest of his dirty laundry, he knew what the right answer was. I’m 21 now, and he hasn’t tried to cut me off yet.

  He hadn’t always played ball happily, though. Some days, I could swear he still had people watching for me to slip up, find some kind of dirt on me, but he’d never catch up to everything I had on him. The perk of being a Hollywood actor’s son is that people don’t care about you half as much as they care about the asshole in the limelight.

  By the time the elevator hit the top floor and I’d snapped out of my memories, I realized I’d worked myself into a gloomy mood. I checked my phone as I walked through the door, and there was a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

  “hi! didnt think u could be torn away from Becky at the club, so how about my place later? ;) –Tonya”

  I rolled my eyes. It was gonna be a long night. Again.

  MacKenzie

  I sat on the floor of my soon-to-be old living room, surrounded on all sides by looming stacks of books and knick-knacks to be packed into boxes. In the corner, a pile of hastily-assembled luggage collapsed to the floor, as my mother came swishing into the room. She was petite and curvaceous, with a bottle-blonde and big-breasted look that had landed her numerous roles in soap operas over the past twenty years. In 1991, Julie Mason had transformed into a child star overnight at the age of twelve, and it had been pretty smooth sailing since then. As it turned out, a pretty girl with the ability to cry on cue and make her costars fall in love with her was just the kind of formula which worked in Hollywood.

  Today, the 36-year-old Julie lived in a lavish guesthouse in the backyard of a very famous actress friend, with me, her 18-year-old daughter. But the pair of us were packaging up our old lives to move in with her newest beau, an extremely wealthy and notorious actor and producer named Todd van der Hausen.

  I had yet to meet the guy, but I knew his face from various tabloids over the years. I only hoped he would treat my mom better than some of the guys she dated before. Julie Mason had a penchant for the bad boys, and it got her into trouble more times than not. And guess who was always there when she came home crying? That’s right: yours truly.

  “Could you toss me the tape, Kenzie honey?” she chirped, tucking a loose blonde curl behind her ear. She produced a black marker from her jeans pocket and began to scribble “FRAGILE” on a box of dishes. I pitched the roll of tape across the room and it clattered to her feet. In typical fashion she let out a little shriek and covered her mouth.

  “Sorry, Mom!” I said quickly. She waved her hand dismissively and smiled. No harm done. As much as I complained about her taste in men (and in acting roles), I had to admit that she was a cool mom. Apart from the occasional disagreement about her outfits, we got along perfectly. Maybe it was lame, but my mom had always been my closest friend.

  At just that moment, the phone in my lap lit up with a text message from my best friend, Jessica. It read: “what r u doing? rooftop party in west hollywood 2nite!!! dress slutty, 4 my sake and urs!”

  She was a year older than me, but it was as though she lived in another world completely. So many nights when I sat on my bed watching reruns, she would call me from the back room of a club to gush about some hot new DJ she’d met. Jess was what teen movies would categorize as a “bad girl.” She sneaked cigarettes, cut school, and occasionally shoplifted. Usually I was at home, still watching reruns. But despite our differences, she never treated me like I was the boring friend, even if I was. And it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part; I had spent many a night in the passenger seat of Jessica’s sports car while she tried to pep-talk me into breaking minor laws with her. I often went to the same parties she did, but whereas she would inevitably find the leather-jacketed lead guitarist and make out with him in the bathroom, I would generally end up standing awkwardly near the exit, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. I was a wallflower, for sure, and no amount of psyching myself up could cure me. Anyway, I liked being dependable. I liked making good grades and obeying laws. Besides, I figured that between Jess and my mom, someone had to be the responsibl
e one, and it might as well be me.

  “Hey Mom,” I piped up suddenly, “is my room gonna be bigger or smaller in the new house?”

  She gave me one of her infamous winks and replied smugly, “Oh sweetheart. Just wait and see. Todd’s place is massive. You’re gonna love it!”

  I smiled and nodded. “I’m really happy for you, Mom.”

  Julie clasped her hands together dramatically, looking just like the cover of a romance novel. Sometimes I wondered if acting from such a young age had taught her to behave like she’s always being filmed. She had a flair for the theatrical, but she always meant well. “Be happy for both of us, Kenzie. This is gonna change our lives, I swear,” she told me, beaming.

  I looked back down at my phone to see a second text: “don’t flake out on me, Kenz. this party is gonna be amazing.”

  My stomach churned at the thought of walking into a room full of hyper-attractive strangers dressed far more sophisticated than me. I pictured them staring at me, rolling their eyes or muttering to each other under their breath. “It’s all in your head,” Jessica always assured me. And I knew she was at least partly right. I was shy, but I wasn’t hideous. Of course, I would never be the kind of dark, mysterious beauty Jess was, nor could I pull off the bubbly bleached-blonde thing my mom had.

  “I’m gonna go in my room for awhile. That okay?” I said.

  “Mhmm, yeah, go ahead.”

  I got to my feet and headed to my bedroom. It was almost empty by this point: only my bed and my emptied-out dresser remained. I collapsed onto my bed and stared nervously at my phone, trying to think of a way out of going to the party tonight. Jess was very difficult to say no to. She was persuasive and enthusiastic in a way which kind of infected you. “That girl has a contagious energy,” my mom often said about her.