Siblings With Benefits Ch 26

Authors note;

First off before I say a couple of things about the upcoming chapter, I am very excited to have found out that couple of other authors have nominated Mark for sexiest male character in the 12th annual Literotica awards. Several other people have followed suit and if you would like to further the cause of Megan's beautiful little brother the thread is in the 1/13 update on my bio page. Now as for this chapter; I know I said I was going to try to make them a little shorter but this one is fairly long. Reason being in my outline and drafts this is really 2 chapters. However if I separate them it would be one chapter (The Winthrop trial) with no erotica and the second (Megan/ Mark in Chicago) would be pretty much all erotica so I combined the two. One note on the Winthrop trial I go into a fair amount of detail as this event in Mark's life greatly shapes the upcoming chapters.

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I shut the shower off, and shook my head at the image of my father telling my brother that he would always be his son no matter what. That was six years ago and, up until a few months ago, my father and Mark had gotten along extremely well, now somehow, Mark had gone from sugar to shit; from a hell of a son, to a fucking animal, as dad had referred to him yesterday. I sighed heavily as I got out of the shower and dried off. I had cum damn hard to the image of my brother fucking me in the shower my first morning back home after rehab; however, before the afterglow of that orgasm had faded, I had recalled that wonderful moment between my father and Mark that made their situation now seem even more upsetting. I rolled my eyes at the thought that my head was spinning so bad today that I had, as the expression went, just literally fucked up a wet dream.

Tossing the towel in the hamper, I slipped on the turquoise thong and, after putting on the matching lace bra, looked at myself in the full length mirror on the inside of the bathroom door. My long black hair was still wet and one side of it was over the front of my shoulder and down over my tit where it lay against the ivory skin of my stomach. The lingerie set perfectly matched my finger and toenails and I had no doubt my brother would love this look. That made me pause when it occurred to me that I was going to see my brother and had not thought about what would happen.

Neither Mark nor I had slept much over the last couple of days and both of us were upset. Mark was heartbroken, feeling that I had rejected him, and I was upset for causing him to think that in the first place. I was also a bit emotional over reading the journal last night and dealing with the many painful feelings it had awakened inside of me. When Mark and I were upset we needed each other, hence my visit here in the first place, and Mark always wanted his big sister when things weren't right for him. Looking at it that way, sex between us was inevitable and now I found myself wondering if we should.

Fucking Mark yesterday turned out to be a mistake; in the end he had gotten even more upset. As I started blow drying my hair, I started to worry about yet another thing that could change between us. If I decided not to accept Mark's heart, would it mean that he wouldn't want to sleep with me anymore? Would sex with between us become a dagger in his heart, because he wanted me to be much more than just his sister? In the past, Mark and I had abstained from each other during my relationships and his last few months with Samantha, when she became more than just one of his pets.

There were times, during those stretches, that it was tough to hold back, but I think that somewhere in my mind, and most likely in Mark's, we knew that it would never last. I don't think it had ever occurred to me what it would be like to never be with Mark again. Finishing with my hair, I started to get dressed and felt a feeling of dread in my stomach. Mark was good at games, both in the courtroom, and of course the bedroom. If I didn't give him an answer right away, or not the one he wanted, would he hold back from me? On the other hand, with the exception of times when I had been extremely wasted, Mark could never turn down his sister's pussy. Then again I was always just his sexy big sister to him and it was all just a dirty little taboo, our way of breaking the rules, now Mark wanted it all.

As I looked in the mirror at my long well shaped legs sticking out of the extremely short black mini skirt I was wearing, and the short light blue tank top that left my stomach bare exposing the silver chain dangling from my naval, I decided that I would definitely be going after my brother. Unlike yesterday, however, I would go easy and be affectionate, I knew Mark like no other woman ever could, and knew that what he needed right now would be for his big sister to take care of him. On that note, it would be a way to see if he would still accept me as only that. After taking one last look in the mirror, I smiled at the fact that at thirty eight, I still looked damn good; and could still carry off this look, wearing clothes more suited to a teen. After blowing a playful kiss at my reflection I left the bathroom to say good bye to mom.

Going back into the kitchen to grab my purse, I saw that mom was on the phone, which was a good thing as it would make it easier to slip out. As I picked up my purse and turned to leave Mom snapped her fingers and, as I turned to look at her, told whoever it was on the other end to hold on. Coming over mom reached into the fridge and I rolled my eyes as she handed me a banana.

"Knowing you it's all you'll eat until lunch with your father." Mom said.

"Okay," I said taking it from her.

Leaning forward I kissed her on the cheek and once again made to leave when mom caught my arm and said;

"Oh here hon, give this to Mark, he might get a kick out of it."

Reaching down to the table, mom picked up what looked like a large photo album and handed it to me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's a scrapbook your father made for that Winthrop case. It's got all the articles, good and bad. Dad was waiting until it died down to give it to him, but it wasn't too long after the trial ended that they stopped talking. I figure Mark might want it to look back on someday."

"Well," I said laughing. "It's about his favorite subject, him, he should love it."

Mom laughed as well then, looking at me, shook her head and asked;

"Really Megan, when are you going to start dressing your age?"

Five minutes later I was stuck in traffic on 95 south. According to the overhead sign there was an accident three exits down. I rolled my eyes and sighed, downtown Providence was only a few minutes from my parent's house by the back streets, but I had figured the highway would be faster. Shaking my head I picked up the banana and, after peeling it, was prepared to take a bite when I heard a horn beep next to me. Turning my head I saw a mustang with two guys who looked like they were barely eighteen in it. It was a nice day and I had the window down, when they saw me looking the one in the passenger seat called out;

"Nice banana!"

I rolled my eyes and was ready to put the window up when I looked at the banana, which was a fairly large one, at least eight inches and thought; oh why not.

"Yeah baby?" I called out to him. "Watch this."

Peeling the banana all the way I brought my mouth down extremely slowly until I had two thirds of the banana in my mouth. Then, tilting my head back and holding it by the very tip, pushed the rest of the banana down my throat. Removing my hand, I pushed with my tongue and, working the muscles in my neck, caused the banana to start moving in and out of my mouth a couple of inches. Turning my head, I almost choked at the sight of the two of them both staring with their mouths wide open. Reaching up I pulled the banana out and held it up so they could see the red smears of lipstick on the bottom of it.

With a wink I bit the banana, then, turning my head, put up the tinted window so I wouldn't have to listen to them try to talk to me for the next mile and a half. Oh you nasty girl, I thought to myself. Glancing down to the seat next to me, I reached out and flipped the photo album open. It contained the top half of the front page of The Providence Journal from last May. The top headline was the one that had started it all;

"Son of wealthy business owner accused of raping fellow Brown student."

Steven Winthrop the third, a silver spooned little bastard whose father had made millions in the overseas cargo trade, had slipped a sophomore named Alicia Carson a rufie at an off campus party and, after taking her upstairs tried to have his way with her, Carson had regained her senses and tried to say no which was when he proceeded to brutally beat and rape her. The story that came out from Winthrop's family, of course, was that it was all a misunderstanding. A report came out that Alicia Carson and her father were offered a substantial sum of money 'to compensate her, for this unfortunate situation' as Steven Winthrop the second put it, but Carson held her ground.

Winthrop's next step was to bring in a high profile defense attorney named Reggie McAllister who had never failed to get a rich guilty client off. Winthrop was fourth generation money, whose family was well respected, owning companies in Boston, Chicago, and New York. Alicia Carson was a scholarship student from South Providence, who had lost her mother at the age of ten and whose father could barely manage to pay the rent. Making things worse for Alicia, was the fact that she had a history of drug abuse, having spent six months in rehab at the age of fifteen. Since then she had been clean, an honor student and a gifted basketball player, who had gotten a second chance at life and taken full advantage of it.

Reggie McAllister wasn't a lawyer as much as a character assassin, Alicia's background was all he needed to spin the case into her being a gold digging piece of trailer trash that was looking for a free ride at the expense of the son of a solid citizen. There was no denying the sex, but the story was that it was consensual and Alicia liked it rough. Steven the third was naïve and of course didn't understand he was being set up by a street savvy whore. To make things worse, as McAllister took his time assembling his team of highly experienced lawyers from around the country, it was discovered that the reason the Rhode Island Attorney General's office was dragging its feet was that someone there was on Winthrop's payroll.

This little bit of knowledge was brought to light by a reporter for the Providence Journal who produced proof in the form of some extremely large deposit's in the original prosecutor's bank account, that were traced to one of Winthrop's companies. Later on it would be found that someone else in the employ of Winthrop, had tipped off the reporter to discredit the AG's office. Rhode Island law dictates that if a plaintiff feels they have been represented unfairly, or the state has been compromised, they can hire a private attorney, but things were looking bad for Alicia Carson; she not only couldn't afford an attorney, but she was staring down the barrel of what would be a full out slander campaign that would make Winthrop look like the victim and her a lying whore. In which case, not only would Winthrop walk, but Carson would lose her scholarship and her future would be ruined.

Enter my brother, who in a televised press conference, held on the steps of Carson's South Providence home, said that he would take the case pro bono to see justice served. In a brilliant media play, geared to gain the sympathy of the working class, Mark described how he had grown up only blocks away from Carson, how he had been a foster child who had gotten a second chance at life when he was taken in by a good family and working his ass off, received a full boat scholarship, just as Alicia had. My brother stated that he was taking the case to ensure that Alicia got the chance that he did. Staring into the camera, my brother uttered the slogan that he and others would use during the duration of the case:

"The guilty should never be allowed to persecute the innocent."

Now of course my brother's motives were not as entirely pure as they seemed. Granted Mark wasn't looking for money, but what he did want, and ultimately what he would get, and in spades, was a challenge. Tired of being considered a great attorney in a small state, Mark wanted to take his game to the next level, to prove that he could compete with the best and win. At the end of the press conference my brother, using his best killer smile, looked into the camera and publicly challenged McAllister to bring his circus to town for a real fight. At that point someone in the audience had called out that McAllister had never failed to get a client off. Mark's reply was that he had yet to lose a case and that McAllister had never faced anyone like him before. Flashing that smug smirk that made even me want to smack him sometimes Mark's final words were;

"Let the best lawyer win."

The case started a month later and, for Mark, became a classic example of be careful of what you wish for because you just may get it. The evidence was all there, Rohypnol in Carson's system, Winthrop's semen all over her as well as his blood where she had scratched him. Most damaging was a brutal photo of Alicia's face, where just under her left eye, which had been swollen shut, was the imprint of Steven Winthrop's class ring which conveniently disappeared when Mark asked for it then, a week later, mysteriously reappeared when Mark somehow gained a search warrant for the house of a police officer who worked in the evidence room.

The facts spoke for themselves, leaving McAllister to do what he did best, make the case about everything but the crime. The first wave of attacks was against Carson, her drug history, background, and why was she at the party in the first place. To her credit Carson held her ground and would not rattle. While this was going on, Steven Winthrop the second, who went to college with, and was a close friend of Alex Warner asked him to talk Mark into backing off his son. Alex had been my brother's best friend since he was eighteen, and tried to talk my brother into getting the Carsons to take the money the Winthrop's offered. Mark was supposed to tell them that they could either lose the case and get nothing or walk away with a hundred thousand dollars, which would pay for Carson's tuition, if she lost her scholarship. Mark refused, saying that Winthrop had raped and beaten a woman and would probably do it again if he got off.

Warner then made the mistake of bringing up the past; throwing it in my brother's face that he had helped him out of the Max situation. That Mark had been guilty as sin but Alex's lawyer had gotten him off. All he was asking was that Mark repay the favor. Mark told Alex that there was a big difference between him beating the shit out of a guy who was six inches taller, and a hundred pounds heavier than him, and someone drugging, beating and raping a helpless girl. Alex then reminded Mark that it was he who had gotten Mark his scholarship and the bottom line was that my brother owed everything he had to him. Mark's response was to say thank you and then tell him to go fuck himself. They have not spoken since the case ended. Fifteen years of friendship down the tubes.

Now my brother was dealing with not only McAllister and his resources but Warner's as well. At this point the trial was in full swing and was a dog fight. Witnesses for both sides were being discredited left and right and McAllister's team was pulling out every dirty trick they could think of, but in the end it was to no avail. Mark had all the evidence he needed and was sticking to it, expertly dodging every bit of misdirection thrown at him, and bringing the trial back to one simple fact; Winthrop was guilty.

Four weeks in, Mark got McAllister's key witness on the stand, the one who insisted he heard Carson tell Winthrop how bad she wanted him and asked him the date of the party. Once he answered the question Mark asked him when he spoke to the police. After that answer my brother produced a copy of a bill of sale showing the witness had bought a new sports car two weeks after his report to the police, and when his bank balance was less than a hundred dollars.

That afternoon, at a press conference, an obviously frustrated McAllister had declared that the "truth would still win out". Mark's only comment when asked about the day's victory, was to smirk and ask when the vastly over rated McAllister was going to decide to become involved rather than let his lackeys keep taking a beating.

Now that it had become obvious Mark was not going to lose in the courthouse, the real slander campaign began. The next day an article was published that stated that my brother was a card carrying member of the church of Satan and attended black masses regularly; when asked about it Mark's response was simply that his beliefs were his business. Two days later a photo of Mark appeared in the paper that showed the massive Baphomet tattoo on his back and underneath explained that it was the symbol of Satanism.

Things got worse; a few days later a video appeared on YouTube of my brother at the Black Flame standing there in a crimson robe, arms outstretched; eyes closed, chanting the Ave Satana in Latin. Several church groups began picketing the courthouse, and the Governor's office contacted the Attorney General suggesting that Mark be removed from the case. My brother's answer was to show up for court the next day with the head of the ACLU who, standing on the courthouse steps, threatened the State of Rhode Island with a discrimination suit. The trial itself had been causing a media circus and by playing the blue collar card my brother was winning in the court of public opinion. Realizing that there was more to lose than gain, especially seeing they had been shown to be corrupt at the outset, the state backed off, saying it was a misunderstanding.

The next attack was even more shocking; it was another video, in it my brother was standing there shirtless, with that absolutely crazed look in his eyes. Standing behind him was a tall black woman who, as the camera rolled, cracked a whip that hit my brother in the back. Mark didn't so much as flinch, even after she hit him several times. Instead he smiled and whispered;

"Thank you Mistress."

The camera then panned away and showed him from the waist down, it revealed that he was wearing a pair of black leather pants but more noticeable were the two extremely young scantily clad girls that were kneeling on either side of him with their arms wrapped around his thighs. Both girls were wearing collars with leashes attached to them. My brother was holding one leash in each hand and, as someone called out for the show to start, Mark pulled his right arm up yanking on the leash that was attached to the redhead on that side who immediately rose up from her knees which was when the video blacked out.

Once again the media began having a field day, calling for Mark to not only be pulled from the case, but to even going so far as to say he should be disbarred. Mark publicly challenged the state to specify what law he had broken. He said if they could, he would step down. During this time I had been worried sick about my brother and was calling him every night. Mark was sounding more exhausted every time I spoke to him and, at this point, you could even see it on the news, as the at the last press conference he had given there were noticeable bags under his eyes. I offered to come up and visit, but Mark said to stay away or else I could get dragged into it. He said that so far they were leaving his family alone. Reading between the lines I know Mark was talking about my history. I had told him I wouldn't come up unless he asked and, when I hung up, I cried in frustration because I knew he was right and that my past would be used against my brother, especially because he had used his connections to get me off the hook a couple of times on drug charges.