Sure, when I was sixteen and he was nineteen and just heading off to college, it was totally cool to hang with him. Not that we had much in common, but still. Now, inching close to thirty, it’s not nearly as fun anymore. After graduation, he moved off to Texas, while I stuck around Atlanta. And so, we haven’t exactly spent a lot of time together…for quite a while. But now, he’s back. For good, he says. And he’s totally cramping my style. Oh, don’t get me wrong. Mark is one fine ass white boy, no doubt. He’s big, over six feet tall, and built like a tank...all muscle, without an ounce of fat on him. Add in the pretty boy smile, pale skin, shining bright eyes…and he’s the all-American boy next door that my friends drool over whenever he interrupts our girls’ night out. Sadly, he’s also a stepbrother who doesn’t want his stepsister getting it on with anyone. Ever. He’s never said the words, but he seems to make damn sure he stands close to me in the clubs, hovering over me, watching me like a hawk.
