Page 36 of The Biker's Brother

“What am I being paid back for?” he asked.

“Well, let’s see. Waking me up with a pillow to the head. Making me travel in wet pajama bottoms all day because you didn’t give me time to dress this morning, much less shower. Then there was the music.”

“Alright. Alright. I get the picture.”

The bath was smaller than most broom closets. The shower was a standard three by three feet. The rest of the room was just big enough for a sink, toilet and one person.

Brandon pulled the flimsy vinyl curtain out of the way, turned on the water and waited until the temperature was right. The whole time he was silently chanting an affirmation that he would not let her see how awkward he felt about undressing in front of her.

When he pulled the wet Henley and tee shirt off over his head, Cami surpassed smiling and openly leered at his exposed upper body.

“What possessed you to cover half your body in all this color?” Brandon raised an eyebrow. “Not that it isn’t attractive. I mean, I can see the appeal. But didn’t it hurt?”

“Yes. It hurt.”

He continued undressing, ignoring the question about why he would do that to his body. He just didn’t feel like getting into the whole tale of matching his brother so he could get to know his dad incognito.

He tried to drop his wet pants, but they stuck to his legs and fought being removed.

“Here,” she said. “Let me help.”

“What happened to the person who was adamantly opposed to sharing a room because of the appearance of impropriety?”

“That was before I knew that it was just us girls.” She smiled.

“Now wait a minute…”

From her makeshift grandstand she peeled at the jeans until she’d pushed them to the floor. Naturally, between that and the act of exposing himself to Cami, he was sporting the biggest erection of his entire life. He thought about trying to hide it, but realized there was no way in that proximity. The only thing he could do was own it.

When he pushed the boxers down and stood up, his full and protruding glory was just twelve inches from her face and looking like it was trying to pull the rest of his body forward.

“I think this establishes the fact that this is not ‘just us girls’.”

Camden’s eyes were wide and the smile had left her face. She swallowed, not able to pull her gaze away. It seemed that Brandon had been hiding what was without a doubt a penis intended for a god, the standard by which all others would be measured for all time. It was long, thick, straight and of a color that was pleasingly pink. The thick veins were not a detraction, but rather suggested an enhanced virility.

She could have wept thinking that such a work of art would be reserved for other men. It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t fair. But as Trey had loved to say as often as possible, life is not fair.

“Criminy, bodyguard. You’ve got a devilish body. If you weren’t into boys…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but the rest of the sentiment was obvious.

Brandon renewed his internal dialogue with a whole new string of colorful expletives.

“Don’t be flattered. I always get excited about hot showers,” he lied. He stepped under the water and pulled the curtain closed.

“Awwwww. Don’t close the curtain. If you’re going to jack off, I want to watch.”

“You know,” he said from inside the shower, “I’m starting to wonder if you were really raised to be a proper young lady.”

Her response was a throaty, husky laugh that would do any barmaid proud. Indeed he was going to jerk off and he did not want her watching.

“I went to finishing school when I was fourteen. I can set a table for a seven course meal and tell you what kind of flowers to use for the centerpiece for any occasion. You can’t produce a piece of flatware or cutlery that can stump me. I know what each one is and how to use it. I know how to sit, stand, walk - especially how to walk downstairs, how to do hair and, given my current circumstances, that’s kind of funny, how to apply makeup for any and every occasion. I know when an event should be semiformal, black tie, and white tie. I know how to plan a party, how to treat guests, and how to keep conversation moving at dinner. Oh, yeah, I was raised to be a proper young lady. And I’d still love to see you jerk off.”

By the time she was finished with that resume detailing how and why his mother would love her and why she’d be the perfect match for the head of St. Germane Enterprises, he’d come and the semen had already washed down the drain. He used the cheap motel shampoo, lathered himself with soap, and enjoyed the warmth of the water.

“That’s impressive. Keep talking. I need to know you’re still here.”

“I’m here, but it’s so steamy I’m practically wet again. And you promised me dry.”

He turned off the water.

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