Monster Stepbrother

by Harlow Grace

  He was possessive. Demanding. I’d become Oliver’s willing plaything, his fuck toy. At night when everyone had gone to bed, I'd be summoned to his room, or he’d appear in my bathroom while I was soaking in the tub or taking a shower.

  He was moody and angry all the time, as if he had to prove something to himself. What happened to the sweet guy I’d given my virginity to? Maybe I’d dreamed all of that. With every passing day, I saw him get more distant and relentless in the way he fucked me.

  My life had changed so much since my stepbrother had found me in the bathroom bleeding on the floor, that it was divided distinctly into two parts: Before Oliver and After Oliver.

  Before Oliver had become a blur. The only highlights were the times my dad or Oliver were featured in some small part. The rest I’d forgotten.

  After Oliver had taken over my existence. I'd become addicted to the man I’d always pretended to hate. It didn’t matter how badly he treated me, I took it every single time and then came back for more.

  Since he brought me home from the clinic, he’d moved into the house, working from the study. Larissa seemed pleased to have her son so close after all the years she'd hardly seen him.

  “So I can watch over you, little bee. Make sure you never try to leave me again,” he’d said when I questioned him about not going back to LA.

  Since that first time when I’d given him my virginity, he’d fucked me on every conceivable space in the house. He’d dragged me down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, saying he was hungry. He was—hungry for me. The fact we could be found out at any moment spiked my adrenaline, made it even more thrilling.

  He started with my pussy, then slowly trained my ass. Oliver had a thing for fucking my ass. And I’d do anything to please him, even wear butt plugs to college to stretch me enough so I was ready for his cock later. It made sitting through lectures pure torture, yet it also excited me; I had a constant reminder of where he’d been inside me and where he was going to be the next time he screwed me.

  Sometimes he couldn’t wait and he’d show up at college on the pretense that I’d left a book on the kitchen table or some other bullshit story. Sometimes I’d see Oliver walking up the path and pretend I didn’t see him, letting the boy I was chatting to come a little too close to me or even brush against my shoulder. Funny how boys liked rubbing their shoulders or legs against mine. It did nothing for me, except give me the ability to watch Oliver’s face as he glared at the boy, wanting to rip him apart with his bare teeth. Some part of me found pleasure in knowing that I could inflict such torture on him, just as he’d done to me for all those years.

  It turned me on so much that my pussy started weeping, the aroma of my sex so strong that even the innocent boy would sense something different and start panting. It was risky, yet I couldn’t stop myself, wanting to spur Oliver’s jealousy to fever pitch so he’d fuck me even harder when we were finally alone.

  “Has any boy been checking out my tits today?” he’d ask as he grabbed both my breasts in his palms and squeezed till I wanted to cry out. I’d shake my head, biting down on my lip to stop a smile from giving me away, inwardly pleased that he was so possessive and so damn insanely jealous. I needed my daily fix of Oliver’s cock, my attachment to him growing more and more, my dependency on him reaching dangerous levels.

  Oliver was my drug of choice.

  I never denied him. We fucked like bunnies in the springtime, neither of us ever having enough. It got to the point that I needed a nap most days when he left the house for a jog; sometimes he'd go to LA for business meetings so I could get some much needed sleep.

  In some part I hated myself for the way I couldn’t resist him. Hated how he always won in the end. Why, when it came to Oliver, was I so damn stupid sometimes? He was slowly but surely breaking any resistance I had to him.

  Quinn was worried about me. She said it was unhealthy not wanting to do or be anywhere if it didn’t involve Oliver. I just smiled at her, knowing she’d never understand what it felt like—I only felt alive when he was around. There was no use in defending myself.

  Sometimes Oliver was sweet and caring—those were the times I breathed for. I was so damn confused I gave up trying to figure him out.

  Consumed. It was the only way I could describe my situation. I held on to every moment because I never knew when it would end. Because one thing I did know: this couldn’t last. We’d kill one another fucking the way we did.

  Sweaty. Dirty. Always pushing for more.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine — Oliver

  I sat at my desk and scratched my head. Having Maya in my bed was fine—as long as nobody was aware of it. The mansion my mother lived in was large enough that she and her husband occupied a completely separate wing than Maya and me. And we were careful to never be together when the servants were in our part of the house. All hell would break loose if anyone found out about us. We were doomed from the start and it was a fucking nightmare to try to figure out how I was going to handle this.

  Alec hated scandal of any sort. His first wife’s suicide had nearly ruined his reputation in the medical industry and the high society circles he moved in. Everyone judged him, blamed him for the loss of her life. How had he not read the signs and stopped it from happening?

  The man would go ape-shit crazy if he had any idea I was fucking his daughter. Nearly two weeks of wild abandon and fucking Maya as often as I could, under my stepfather’s roof, was already taking its toll on my nerves. And hers. Sometimes she’d cry after we fucked, telling me that this had to end. I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to hear it.

  The real estate agent had just delivered the documents for the purchase of a home on the hill of Santa Barbara. I couldn’t go back to my empty life in LA. No amount of working hard and fucking even harder could cure my obsession with my stepsister.

  Nor could I stay in my stepfather’s house any longer. I was unable to keep my hands off Maya, fucking her from the moment we went upstairs to my room after dinner until dawn, not to mention every opportunity I found during the day. But the things I still wanted to do to her, the ways I needed to take her, were impossible while staying there.

  My little bee was sweet and smart. She knew just how to wrap me around her little finger. Christ. All this time I thought I was the one in control, but it was her all along. I was acting like a fucking love sick teenager—she invaded my every waking moment. If she wasn’t with me, I’d be thinking about her, getting hard remembering her taste, dreaming about her. My dark obsession with my stepsister ran so fucking deep there was no way I wanted to stop this. Yet I knew we were on a collision course with destiny.

  It ate at me like cancer, causing me sleepless nights and anxiety. In the small hours of the night, when Maya curled up in my arms with my dick still inside her, I’d make up my mind to give her up, to walk away. But the instant my eyes met hers when she awoke, I fucking couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk away. In fact, I craved her more. My hunger for her grew in intensity until I was convinced I was losing my fucking mind.

  Some day everything would fall apart. Destroy us. It terrified me that we could be torn apart by shit beyond our control. I fucking hated the despair it left in my gut. Hated that I was waiting for it to come smashing down around us.

  But more than anything, I hated that I’d become weak. I'd allowed her to get under my fucking skin. It had to stop. She was nothing more than dirty sex to me. It was her gorgeous body I wanted to fuck, nothing more. My obsession was purely carnal.

  Raw.

  Primal.

  But that was it.

  I needed to take back my fucking power. Prove that I hadn’t become soft because of her fucking pussy driving me wild. God forbid that I fell in love with her. My own stepsister. What kind of man would that make me if sex wasn’t the only thing on my mind?

  A deviant.

  A fucking depraved deviant.

  Maya needed to understand this was only about sex. Nothing more.

  We coul
dn’t fall in love with one another.

  It was the one thing that would break us.

  Force us apart.

  Love.

  Anger swirled in my gut that I’d allowed her to have pleasure from this. I was losing my perspective on what this was all about. This was revenge for all the wrongs that had been done to me. And since I’d taken her virginity, there was nothing to stop me from showing her just how rotten I was at the core of my soul.

  I was going to fuck her, make her scream with pain. The same pain I felt deep in the abysses of my fucking soul.

  Was I heartless? Yes. Yes, I fucking was.

  And Maya would find out all about that soon enough.

  Once I’d exorcised my demons, then I’d consider letting her go. I’d use her then throw her away. Discard her like a broken toy. Because that was what she was. A sex toy for my pleasure. I wanted to believe it.

  Then why did it hurt so fucking much whenever I thought of my life without her? Why was I miserable when I was away from her? Why did every cell in my fucking body yearn for her?

  I hated myself for feeling this way.

  Before, I had the power in my hands. Now I was weak for her. I needed her like I needed air. Something wasn’t right. I had to fix it.

  Grabbing the keys of my SUV, I made my way to my car. She’d be at class now, but luckily I knew the campus, so I'd track her down. I'd teach her that I was her master. That I hadn’t become soft. That I would only use her. That I didn’t need her to breathe.

  That love was a four letter word.

  Twenty minutes later, I’d found a parking spot near the building where I knew she was taking her class. I walked over the lush green lawns, asking a few people that I’d recognised and seen with Maya before if they knew where she was.

  “Yeah, she’s in that building,” the brunette whose name I’d forgotten said, checking me out with big eyes running up and down my body. She looked at her watch. “Her class finishes in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you come to the cafeteria with us while you wait? She usually comes there after class.”

  I followed her and her friend to a glass building with tables set outside. We found an empty one and sat down. I wasn’t really listening to their conversation; I kept looking at my watch.

  “You’re Maya’s stepbrother, aren’t you?” The blonde cocked her head and twirled her locks between her fingers—the universal sign for subtle flirting.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Um, we heard you moved to LA. Pity you didn’t come to this school.”

  I didn’t feel like explaining myself to them. There really wasn’t any point. The second I spotted Maya, I’d be gone.

  “Ah, there they come now,” the brunette chirped.

  My head snapped up. They?

  Sure as fucking hell, Maya came toward the building, oblivious that I was there. She was laughing, completely at ease with the guy she was with. My gaze shifted to him, ready to tear his head off. I sucked in a breath—it was none other than the little prick I'd thrown out only the other week. What the fuck?

  Unable to watch any longer as he laid his hand on her arm and smiled into her eyes, I jumped up and stormed toward her. As I approached, the fucker saw me first. His eyes widened and he stopped talking, his mouth gaping open as I closed in on them.

  “Maya, I need you to come with me,” I growled. “And you, jackass, quit touching her. I’ve warned you before. Don’t make me fucking break your dick.”

  I didn’t wait for his response. I grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her back toward the building she’d come from.

  “Oliver, wait. What the fuck’s gotten into you?” Maya said, digging her heels in and refusing to come along.

  “If you don’t want me to throw you over my fucking shoulder and carry you off, you better come along,” I grunted. Her resistance was pissing me off big time.

  “Stop acting like a fucking barbarian.” Her voice had a panicked tone to it. “Everyone is looking at us, for fuck sake. Slow the fuck down and act normal.’”

  Jesus fucking Christ, I was going to burst into hysterical laughter. Normal? I didn’t have a fucking clue what that was. Normal was not in my vocabulary.

  “The bathroom. Where is it?” My patience was fraying. Any minute I was going to snap.

  “You’re going crazy because you need to take a piss? What the hell?” she said, indignation clear in her tone.

  I laughed. It was the safer of all the options. I saw the board pointing to the unisex bathrooms and pulled her inside, locking the door behind us. I didn’t wait for another word from her; I slammed her hard against the wall, my mouth closing over hers. I caught her gasp in my mouth as I lifted her off the ground, pressing her back into the concrete wall. Maya’s legs automatically clasped around my hips, squeezing tightly. Her skirt rode up her thighs; I pushed it up further until the fabric bundled around her waist.

  “Got to fuck you,” I grunted while loosening my belt and dropping my pants to my ankles. My cock sprang free, hot and throbbing. Anxious to feel her warmth. Gripping both of her wrists in one hand, she whimpered as I pinned them above her head. They’d still be tender, especially since she’d taken off the bandages, so I squeezed harder, making her cry out in pain.

  Good. I wanted her to feel pain. If I felt it, she sure as hell needed to feel it, too.

  Pushing her panties to the side, my cock thrust into her all at once. She shuddered from the pressure of taking all of me to the hilt. Fucking her like an animal, I thrust in and out, harder and faster, not caring if she liked it or not.

  This was for me. To show her who owned her. That I was her master.

  Her whimpering became louder, but I covered her mouth with my hand as I fucked her into next week. My eyes met hers. Large. Frightened. Dilated.

  A dead fucking giveaway that she liked this. Fuck. I was using her and she was fucking turned on. Little bee was as fucked up as I was.

  I tore my gaze away and bit into her shoulder. A muffled scream escaped her lips as my teeth and cock sank ruthlessly into her, claiming her.

  And then I came. I came so hard that my knees nearly buckled under me.

  Tears splashed onto her cheeks as I took her mouth with mine, possessing her completely.

  When my rage finally subsided and I pulled away from her mouth, she blinked a few times and turned her head away from me. I gripped her cheeks roughly and jerked her head back to me.

  “Never look away from me, Maya. Never,” I warned through gritted teeth.

  Her tear stained face turned red, her eyes blazing as she spat in my face.

  “You, Oliver King, are a fucking monster. I despise you.”

  My hand tightened around her throat.

  “And you, Maya Childs, are my little slut. Deal with it.”

  I stepped back from her, letting her feet slide back to the floor. Pulling up my pants, I fastened the clasp of my belt.

  “If I see that prick touching you again, you are both going to be sorry.”

  Shaking, I stormed out of the washroom, never looking back.

  Chapter Thirty — Maya

  Oliver left me there like a rag doll. The way he used me cut through me like a knife.

  I could handle most things he threw my way—the rough sex, the mean names. But what I couldn’t stand was Oliver cutting me off without explanation—cold and outright rejection. Like him avoiding me for weeks on end.

  Being abandoned was my worst fear. The total opposite of my deepest heart’s desire to belong wholeheartedly to someone.

  Sometimes I made myself believe that I could feel a connection between Oliver and me beyond the mind-blowing sex. That we were bonded, not just by sex, nor blood, because we weren’t related, but by something far greater than the two of us.

  But as quickly as elation and acceptance had started breaking my resistance down, my walls shot right back up again when he treated me the way he just had. My heart had slowly started cracking open as I’d seen slivers of what life with Oliver could b
e like. Sometimes he was tender and caring to a fault, only to treat me like dirt the next time he fucked me.

  Rag dolls had it good. They were loved by their owners. Mine just used me and then cast me aside. Didn’t care what happened to me afterwards. And it hurt like fuck. So after each episode, I’d build the wall around my heart back up again, only this time a few layers higher, a few layers deeper.

  Impenetrable. Unfeeling. That’s what I wanted to be.

  Instead it was breaking me—each time a little more. One day I’d run, I’d say no to the bullshit and get the hell out of there. If only my fucking addiction weren’t as paralyzing. If only I didn’t need it more than my freedom.

  Since I’d started college, I was focusing more on my studies. And I’d learned to cope with everything thrown my way. But rejection was the hardest pill to swallow. It shredded my insides, made me bleed.

  Worse than any blade I’d ever pushed against my skin.

  Deeper than the sharpest edge.

  “Maya, what the fuck?” Quinn pushed the door open and stared at me. I just sat there, my back against the cold wall, tears streaming unchecked down my cheeks. I didn’t care who saw me like this. Nothing could hurt me more than Oliver King already had.

  Trust Quinn to find me. She was like a damn bloodhound. Thank God.

  “Sweetheart, let me help you up.” She leaned over and placed her arm under mine and pulled me up slowly. My knees were trembling so hard, I wasn’t sure I could stand on my own.

  “You don’t have to talk. I can just imagine what happened. Oliver fucking King stormed passed me like a fucking tornado was on his tail. That man is possessed by the devil. Calling him a monster is kind.” Quinn was pissed off. More than I’d ever seen. Her face was flushed and her eyes blazed. I pitied anyone who got in her way when she was this mad. She didn’t take shit from any man.

  “I’m okay,” I lied.

  “Seriously, Bee, Oliver would be wise to stay the hell out of my way. Some days I just want to slap some sense into him. He’s the biggest asshole I’ve ever know, and that’s saying a lot.”