In His Custody

by Jessa Kane

  In His Custody

  Jessa Kane

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  1

  Brody

  The young blonde troublemaker I’ve been fantasizing about for months walks out of the juvenile detention center and stops abruptly, cocking a light brow behind her sunglasses.

  “Who are you?”

  “Your stepfather. Brody.” I hold out my hand, silently begging her to take it. “Nice to finally meet you, London.”

  Even though her eyes are shielded by Ray-Bans, it’s impossible to mistake the hurt that streaks across her face before she hides it. “I should have known my mother wouldn’t come to pick me up herself.” London breezes past me toward the parking lot, tight backside twitching right to left in painted-on denim. “Let me guess, she’s on a cruise with a new best friend who is trying to convince her to invest in a pyramid scheme disguised as a makeup company.”

  My lips tilt as I follow her. “Something like that.”

  “I didn’t even know she’d gotten married.” London flashes me a sassy smirk over her shoulder. “Again.”

  “It’s a good thing she did or you’d be taking the bus home.”

  Her smile slips a touch and I immediately regret the harshness of my words, but I sure as hell don’t take them back. I’m a former Army captain turned police chief. Coddling isn’t in my nature. Thanks to a lack of parental guidance, London has been in and out of juvie since she turned fifteen—and that shit ends now. Her mother might have been incapable of laying down the law, but that is not the case anymore.

  She’s too goddamn perfect to spend another day locked up.

  It’s up to me to put her on the right path.

  I unlock the doors of my Range Rover, watching through the window of the driver’s side as London boosts herself into the seat in a huff, tits jiggling around in the low neckline of her white tank top. My cock is already stiff as a board. Seems like it has been this way ever since I met her mother, Kelli, in a bar and I saw that picture of a kiss-blowing London on her phone. It’s been like this, rigid and swollen and starved. Waiting.

  Planning.

  This might be the first time my stepdaughter is meeting me, but I’m well acquainted with her. I’ve been paying the guards at the detention facility for information. For video. Photos. Access. Anything I can get my hands on. Until I can have the real thing.

  When I settle into the driver’s side of my vehicle, it takes every ounce of self control not to reach over and slide my hands down the front of her tank top. To test the weight of her braless tits in my palm. See if her nipples can already get hard for me…or if she needs some seducing first. Either way, I’m going to have her.

  I need to have her.

  With a discreet adjustment of my belt buckle, I start the car and pull out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of my house. “I bet you’re relieved you never have to go back there, huh?”

  “Oh, yes.” She crosses her delicious legs and gives a little shimmy. “Next time, I get to go to big girl prison. It’s like the grown up table at Thanksgiving. Just with handcuffs.”

  I’m already shaking my head. “You’re done getting locked up, London. As long as you’re on my watch, you’ll be staying out of trouble.”

  London snorts. “Please. You’re going to be part of my life for a week, then I’ll never see you again. Just like all the other boyfriends and husbands. Don’t act like you care.”

  “How about I prove it to you, instead?”

  Momentarily, she seems caught off guard. “Yeah, um. Good…good luck with that.” I can feel her curious eyes roving over me, turning my balls to lead. “What are you? A cop or something?”

  “See that? You’re too smart to spend your life in a cell.”

  “Oh my God. You are a cop?” She tilts her head back and groans—and I swear to Christ, I almost pull the car over and pull that bratty little mouth down to my lap. “Seriously, just take me back to juvie. It’s better than living with a police officer.”

  I clear the desire from my throat. “How so?”

  “There are a hundred other girls in juvie! The guards’ attention is divided.” She crosses her arms and flounces back against the seat. “At home, I’ll have to deal with your authoritarian nonsense all by myself.”

  “That’s right.” I slow to a stop at a red light, keeping my tone mild. “By the time your mother gets home from her business trip, I’m going to have you on the straight and narrow. No more running your mouth to cops, stealing cars or disturbing the peace. No more drunken dancing in fountains or chaining yourself to government buildings, either.”

  “Okay. So you’ve done your research.”

  “I always do.” When it comes to you. I don’t say that part out loud, but I would love to. I’d love to tell London everything right now. That I’m obsessed with her. That I’ve spent the last few months orchestrating this moment. When I’d bring her home and have her all to myself.

  I can’t come clean this soon, though. She doesn’t trust me yet. And earning my stepdaughter’s trust might be one of the most difficult feats of my life, considering she’s been abandoned, over and over again, since she was a child.

  Never again, baby. I’m here now.

  “When is my mother coming back from her…” She does air quotes. “Business trip?”

  My fingers flex on the steering wheel. “About a month or so.”

  That’s a lie. I doubt London’s mother is ever coming back.

  The girl sitting in the passenger seat of my car is my sole priority now.

  My sole…everything.

  “How did my mother hook up with a cop? I can’t wrap my head around it. She is just as resentful of authority as I am. Last time I saw her, she was trying to kick a coke habit and failing.” London gestures at me. “How did this happen?”

  The truth?

  I’d had a shitty day at work and needed a drink. I lost an officer in a gun fight that afternoon and gave myself permission to numb some of the pain with whiskey. Rare for me. To give in to weakness like that. But there I was, replaying the moment over and over again, wondering what I could have done differently, when Kelli stumbled to the bar beside me.

  Crying. Drunk.

  If I hadn’t seen the picture of London on her lock screen, I would have asked her to go bother someone else. All it took was one glance, though, and I was done for.

  “We met at a bar,” I say simply. “The rest is history.”

  “I can’t see you in a bar.” She tilts her head, the ends of her blonde hair brushing against her nipples. “Maybe you should take me to one now, so I can get an accurate picture.”

  “Funny.”

  “It can be a welcome home gift.” Leaning across the console, she walks her fingertips up my bicep, dragging up the sleeve of my T-shirt. “One little drink. Come on, Daddy.”

  I groan behind my teeth, coughing quickly to disguise the sound. My dick is straight and solid as a flagpole, come dribbling from the tip to soak into my fly.

  Get yourself together.

  She only called me that title as a joke, so I can’t take it seriously, as badly as I want to. As badly as I want to pull over to the side of the road, throw her facedown over the backseat, yank her panties to her ankles and fill her to the fucking hilt with Daddy.

  “No bars,” I bark. “Not until you’re twenty-one.”

  Maybe not even then.

  “You’ve had no structure. No guidance. But that ends now, London. You’re going to live under my roof and follow my rules. You’re eighteen.
An adult now. It’s time to act like one. We’re going to figure out what you want in life and get it together.”

  London is pouting at me. “Look, I appreciate you wanting to turn me into a respectable citizen and all, but you don’t have to take responsibility for me. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. You are hereby absolved of any obligation.”

  “I don’t want to be absolved.”

  Her panic is turning more and more palpable.

  She’s grown so accustomed to being deserted that my interest is probably terrifying. To London, getting attached is probably the worst thing she could do, because getting abandoned will hurt all the worse when the time comes. She has no way of knowing I’ll never leave her as long as I live, so I’ll just have to show her.

  “You know…” She licks her lips nervously. “There are other ways I can get you to back off.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Oh yeah?” She unhooks her seatbelt and turns, coming to her knees on the passenger seat. Placing her hand on my thigh, she presses her open mouth into my neck. “I could seduce you.” She’s trembling like a leaf. “Bet my mother wouldn’t take too kindly to her new husband lusting after her daughter.”

  My cock almost breaks my zipper. “And you would tell her, is that right?” I manage.

  “Every detail. So I g-guess you better stay away,” she purrs, her hand sliding to my inner thigh and inching higher. “Keep a heathy distance, Brody. I’m bad news.”

  “Oh yeah?” I turn my head, bringing our mouths less than an inch apart, watching her cornflower-blue eyes widen. “You ride good cock, little girl?”

  She gulps. “The best.”

  Don’t ask her to prove it.

  Not yet.

  Not this way. When I get her beneath me for the first time, I want it to be because she’s hot for it. Because she feels something for me. Not to drive a wedge between us.

  I put my mouth to her ear. “Liar. You think I can’t tell that your pussy’s been sealed up tighter than a vault?” Finding her eyes with mine, I reach down and stoke a finger down the seam of her jeans, making her gasp. “You might be wild, but you’ve kept your panties on, haven’t you? And before you lie, London, understand that I’ve gone through your medical records. Several times.”

  She pulls back slowly, twin pink circles decorating her cheeks. “Who are you?”

  “I’m your stepfather—and I’m in charge now.” Her mouth is calling to me, but I force myself to plant a kiss on her forehead instead. “Breakfast is at eight o’clock sharp.”

  2

  London

  I wake up at six-thirty after a measly three hours of sleep and resume pacing at the foot of my bed. Who is this guy? He is not like my mother’s usual conquests.

  He’s got a job, for one.

  Two, he’s a cop.

  Three, he owns property.

  Brody actually has his life together. My mother tends to date or marry men who are in the same financial straits as her. One of them hits the number or gets a lucrative gig, they tie the knot, then everything goes to pot when they inevitably party too hard and hit a downswing.

  I’ve known Brody for less than a day and already I know this man doesn’t know the definition of downswing. Case in point, he’s already awake and exercising downstairs, as evidenced by the clanking of weights and hum of the treadmill. The fact that he’s working out doesn’t surprise me. I would be lying if I claimed not to notice he’s in incredible shape. He’s in his late thirties, a little silver around the temples, tall, stacked with muscle.

  Hot.

  There, I admitted it.

  This douchebag who thinks he can control my life is extremely sexy, in a hard, brooks no disobedience kind of way. Men usually turn me off simply by being men.

  Thanks to my mother’s revolving door love life, I’ve been around enough of them to know they’re needy and immature and gross. Which is why I’ve played keep away with my virginity. There isn’t a single member of the opposite sex that deserves it. Or me.

  I go solo.

  That’s the way I like it.

  People come and go, so I have to have my own back.

  You’ve had no structure. No guidance. But that ends now, London. You’re going to live under my roof and follow my rules. You’re eighteen. An adult now. It’s time to act like one. We’re going to figure out what you want in life and get it together.

  There is no way Brody meant that.

  That he wants to help me achieve something with my life. He made it sound like we’re on the same team, which is ridiculous. Why would he care what I do in five minutes or five years? I’m nothing to him. His future ex-wife’s daughter.

  And I feel the pressing urge to prove that.

  I want him to be a scum bag, like all the other men I’ve met, from my father all the way down to some of the security guards at juvenile hall.

  The alternative—that he really cares—gives me too much hope. Hope is the enemy. It almost always lets me down and I’ve been burned too many times to let it happen again.

  A feline smile curves the edges of my mouth.

  I might not have a lot of experience with men—okay, none—but I’m sure I can make Brody crack. I learned a thing or two about sex appeal by listening to my fellow offenders. If I can seduce Brody and film the entire thing on my phone, I can blackmail him into leaving me alone by threatening to show it to my mother. I’m sure he’ll opt to save his own skin. Men always do. Then I can put my worries to rest that he might be different.

  Skipping to my dresser, I open the top drawer, hoping to find some old clothes of mine.

  This house is not where I was living last time I offended and got sent to juvie. Oh no, my mother and I were in a one-bedroom in a far worse section of town. I know it’s a longshot that she brought my clothes here and put them away, but, holy wow…she did. Not only that, there are new clothes. Nice ones, with the tags still on!

  With a breathy laugh, I go through them all, rubbing the expensive fabric on my skin, until I remember my mission is to seduce Brody this morning.

  “Right. Game face.” I dig until I find the shortest pair of shorts I can find and put them on. Without underwear. Next, I tug on a sports bra and a cropped tank top, leaving my stomach bare. After rubbing my fingers against my scalp to give my hair that sleepy look, I pad downstairs to the home gym. I wasn’t given a tour last night. No, I kind of ran inside and hid in my room after that whole surprising exchange in the car. But I can hear metal hitting metal on the other side of the door, so I know I’ll find my new stepfather here.

  I roll my neck a few times, then push open the door, strutting into the small gym.

  I’m working it like a runway model—

  Until I catch sight of my sweaty, shirtless stepdad and run smack into a pillar.

  “Jesus.” He drops the barbell he’s pressing overhead and comes toward me, visibly concerned. I try, I really do try, not to notice the way his thighs ripple in the navy blue sweatpants, but it’s impossible. Once I notice the thighs, I can’t help but become highly aware of the thick pendulum of manhood swinging between his legs. Holy mother of God. “Are you okay, London?” he asks, tipping my chin up. “Looked like you bumped your forehead.”

  “It’s fine.” I’m staring desperately up at the ceiling, forbidding myself from checking him out again. Honestly, I don’t even need to. His chiseled, glistening upper body is branded on my brain forever. But—wait. Wait. Why am I avoiding looking at him? Is this how a seductress would behave? I’m never going to get what I need at this rate. “I’m really fine,” I murmur, meeting his eyes for the first time. Gathering my courage, I let my attention travel down the front of his chest to his navel. “Don’t let me interrupt your work out.”

  He tucks his tongue into the corner of his mouth. “Baby, you’re dressed to interrupt.”

  “Oh this?” I twirl a strand of my hair around my finger. “I couldn’t find any other exercise clothes.”

  “Is th
at what you came down here for?” His knuckle grazes my belly, slowly traveling up and down, stopping at the waistband of my shorts. “Exercise?”

  “I love working out.”

  Lie. Huge one. I hate it. Satan invented it.

  But I need to buy myself time so I can set up my phone to record the seduction.

  “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

  “Thanks.” I turn around, celebrating when I feel his attention glue itself to my nearly bare butt. “I’ll just hop on the stair climber.”

  “Be my guest,” he rasps, adjusting himself.

  I make a meal out of getting on the machine and beginning to climb, exaggerating every movement and watching his jaw flex in the wall of mirrors. “So, Brody…” Discreetly, I slip my phone out of my sports bra, setting it in the cup holder of the stair climber, facing it in the direction of the squat rack. “Do you work today?”

  “Yes,” he growls, tearing his gaze off my bottom, walking to a shelf near the door and chugging a full bottle of water without coming up for air. The thing between his legs is no longer a pendulum. Ah, no. It’s pushing against the front of his sweatpants like an extended fist. “I’ll be back for dinner. You’re going to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

  “There go my plans,” I quip, sending him a teasing look over my shoulder.

  The water bottle pauses on its way back to the shelf. “You’re in a playful mood.”

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday.” I arch my back and really give him a show, feeling the shorts ride even higher. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but he’s even less comfortable. His Adam’s apple is tucked up under his chin, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. “Maybe we can try again?” I ask cheerfully.

  “Try again,” he repeats gruffly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

  “Great.” Continuing to climb, I peel off the tank top and toss it away, leaving me in nothing but the tiny shorts and sports bra. “Any ideas how to…achieve it?”