My Best Friend's Hot Brother (18+)

Sex Stud

Sterling

"Why do you feel the need to always intrude into my life?!" I yell into my phone. "I'm perfectly happy without you here."

My mother sighs from the other end of the line. "I haven't seen you in over a month, dear. I would like to spend some time with my only daughter before she leaves for college."

"Honestly, Sterling," she continues. "You couldn't have chosen a university closer to home?"

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. A dull headache begins throbbing near my temples, and I know that the longer I stay tethered to this call, speaking to my mother, the likelier it is that the ache will morph into a pounding that hammers against my skull.

"That was the point, mother," I reply in exasperation. "To get as far away from you as possible, and now you're telling me that you want to drive up to Maine for a mother-daughter day?"

"Why not?" she inquires. "It will be fun. We will lunch by the water and go shopping. Perhaps, even color your hair a nice hue of auburn-"

"No!" I interject through clenched teeth. "I like my hair the shade it is. Stop trying to change me."

"Sterling," she exhales. "You need to start presenting yourself as a proper lady if-"

"I'm tired of everybody claiming that I'm not a woman just because I don't dress or act a certain way," I fired back. "Don't come here, Mom. I don't want to see you. And that's final."

***

"Your mom's here!" Jackson calls merrily as he pulls back the curtains to glance out the window at the sound of tires crunching on the gravel.

Groaning, I join him and stare out the pane at the pain exiting the vehicle. My mother has an air of refined elegance about her. She seems to float gracefully across the driveway, her nude pumps clicking on the asphalt, her navy slacks perfectly pressed, and her blouse bleached to a crisp white.

Not a single chestnut strand of hair is out of place in her slicked back bun. And although her jewelry is subtle, the diamonds from her necklace and earrings still shimmer as they catch the reflection of the sun while she walks.

"Do you want to slap on a dress and pretend that you're me?" I plea to Jackson. But I am not joking. I would rather eat soup with lake water as the broth and algae as the noodles than spend an hour with this woman.

He steps back from the window and looks me solemnly in the eye as he clasps my shoulders. "Are you going to be alright? Do you want me to tag along for moral support?"

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, but no thanks. You'll just egg her on when she starts moaning about how I need to be classier."

Smirking, he leans in and softly kisses the top of my head. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope," I giggle, giving him a playful smack on the behind. "That will teach you to say things that you may one day regret, Violin boy."

He tickles my sides and I erupt into a fit of laughter. "I'm not fond of that nickname you've so endearingly chosen for me," he teases.

"I could call you something else if you would rather," I purr, wrapping my arms around his neck and nuzzling his chest. "Sex stud, perhaps?"

He glances over nervously towards where his mom is seated in the living room, curled up on the sofa in front of the roaring blaze of the fireplace while engrossed in a murder mystery novel.