by Tia Siren
A lot of people would say we’re wealthy. Wealthy doesn't even do anything to describe what I’m looking at right now.
This apartment is two stories. There is a wraparound balcony overlooking Park Avenue from where I’m looking with connections to the living room, dining room, and family room. There’s a long hallway that leads to a foyer where guests can be received. A friendly maid comes out.
“Mrs. Kane?” she asks me.
I nod. That’s right. My last name has changed. My new name is Ashley Kane.
“I’m Marta, the housekeeper,” she says. “Let me grab your suitcase from you. Is there more downstairs?”
My parents insisted that they would send everything over during the week. Packing would give them something to do, they asserted. I shake my head no.
“Mr. Kane is…busy,” Marta says, looking away from me and averting her eyes. “I don’t…”
“What is it, dear?” I ask Marta, taking a step closer. She’s hiding something.
But she looks at me and shakes her head, mumbling and taking my suitcase with her.
I walk around the living room, looking at the tastefully placed modern setup. I look out the balcony and the views of New York City stretching out in all directions. This apartment is magnificent.
I wonder where Percy is and I walk down to the staircase. I hear voices as I get to the top and follow them to the end of the hall where the master bedroom must be.
I open the door. Percy looks up from where he is on the bed. He’s flanked by two women. A blonde and a brunette. They’re both sucking his cock. One’s dragging her tongue up his shaft while the other is jerking him and wrapping her lips around his tip.
He recognizes me. “Oh, Ashley,” he says as if seeing Marta. “You’re here.”
The women who are feasting on Percy’s upright cock don’t pay me much attention. He must be paying them. No woman could show that much interest in a regular 5- to 6-inch cock.
“Girls,” he says to the two hookers. At least I think they’re hookers. “This is my new wife, Rebecca Gordon. She didn’t want to be called Rebecca Kane.”
Both women are on their knees kneeling over Percy’s cock. She looks over to me and gives me a lewd smile. They love it when they hear that I’m his wife. Something about sucking his cock in front of his wife is turning them on.
I’m disgusted. It’s one thing that he didn’t bother bringing me to his house or even that he didn’t meet me as I came in. But this…
“You want to sit down and watch us?” Percy asks with an evil smile, and I realize he’s done this on purpose. “I’m afraid you’d have to wait your turn once these ladies are done with me though,” he says, as the brunette climbs up and positions her pussy above his cock.
I can’t watch. What kind of man have I been set up with?
“This might be the closest you get to sex for a long time, Ashley,” Percy calls out as I run away. “You can be damn sure I’m not touching you!”
I want to cry. I want to throw up.
I head to the front door.
And I run into a wall.
I back up.
That’s not a wall…that’s…
The most gorgeous man I’ve ever met.
3
Parker
"You look upset," I say, walking straight into a woman. I nearly knock her down as she rounds the corner. Her blonde hair obscures her face, but she still looks visibly distraught. I can tell she's been crying and her cheeks are flush. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. I've seen this before. My father has an unsavory reputation with women. I mean, I'm no angel myself—women drop their skirts at my feet quicker than I can slam back a shot of whiskey, and that's pretty fucking fast—they can't keep their hands off of me.
But don't act surprised. It's the truth. I mean, can you blame them? Look at me. I'm 6 foot 3 inches with a set of 8-pack abs that would make the men on the cover of Men's Fitness magazine envious.
"Sorry, I didn't see you there," she says, quickly wiping her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara. She's dabbing the tips of her fingers just underneath her eyelids. I look at her for a moment and realize that this woman seems different—unlike the rest. I get the feeling my father hasn't hired this one for the day. For one thing, she's fucking gorgeous. I can tell that her body is a work of art under that dress she's wearing. I don't see that kind of classic beauty often.
"What happened?" I ask.
"It's fine—I mean, I'm fine. I'm just still getting used to this new life—this new place."
New life? What's that supposed to mean? She can sense the confusion on my face and continues, "I'm Ashley Gordon—I mean Kane—Mrs. Ashley Kane. Percy's new wife. This is all new for me."
So this is his new wife. It's all starting to make sense. I knew he was newly married to a woman in her mid-30s, but I didn't expect her to look like this. I don't know what exactly I was expecting—maybe a woman who looks older, but I'm shocked my father managed to get his hands on a woman like Ashley. Sure, he's rich and powerful, but he's a flawed man, and everyone knows it. To top it off, his reputation is a thing of legend.
"Well, then. I guess that makes us family. I should introduce myself. I'm Parker Kane, Percy's son," I say, extending my hand to hers.
She takes it, but I can see the distrust in her eyes.
"I know who you are," she says coldly. "You live here too?"
"For the time being. It's temporary."
You're probably wondering why, at twenty-one years old and with my own money, I still live with my father, right? It's not a permanent situation, I can assure you. It's just until I find a new place. And this opulent apartment on Park Avenue isn't a bad place to be hanging out.
I watch as Ashley eyes me up and down. Maybe it's the Tom Ford suit I'm wearing—yes, the same one James Bond wore. It's the kind of suit you can't buy online—you'll have to go to an upscale shop to even try it on. Why am I telling you this? Appearance is everything. Believe me.
"I'm surprised to run into you here," I say.
"Why's that?" she asks.
"Don't you have better things to be doing than sulking around the halls of this apartment?"
"Like father like son," she says, almost under her breathe. I watch as she shakes her head.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.
"Women should be seen and not heard—always with a smile—is that it? You Kanes are all the same, aren't you?"
"Actually, I'm nothing like my father."
When I say that, she eyes me suspiciously, but doesn't say anything.
I break the silence. "I hope you'll find the apartment agreeable. It's not that bad of a place—once you get used to it."
"It's… different from what I'm used to. But enough about the past," Ashley says. "I should be settling in and asking myself where to go from here. There's no use crying about it."
She straightens her posture, and looks resolute. If I'm honest, where I'd like to go from here is straight up that skirt of hers. I know… I know… You don't have to tell me. I know I shouldn't be having these thoughts. She's my stepmother. She's married to my father now. I get it. And there's a sizeable age difference too. I'm 21 and I've heard that she's 36, but I can imagine myself squeezing those two full, eager breasts of hers, and bending her right over the sofa in the foyer. Not only is Ashley fucking flawless—head to toe—but she's confident too. I know we've only just met, but I can tell. She carries herself with a confidence that I don't see in younger women. I find that attractive and it fucking turns me on.
I realize I've been standing here in front of her with my mouth open like an idiot. My thoughts are suddenly a mess and I can't remember what I was saying or where I was heading just five minutes ago. I'll admit; it's been a while since a woman's had that kind of power over me.
"It was nice meeting you," she says, placing her hand on my arm. Her touch sends an electric current down my spine, and all I can do is nod in agreement. I watch as she turns to walk away and I have an unob
structed view of her entire body—I was definitely right—that ass, those hips and lips. Heels that accentuate her legs. Delicious. She walks down the hall and doesn't so much as glance in my direction, and not wanting to let her slip by, I clear my throat and say, "Wait."
She stops and turns to me.
"I'll be at the rooftop pool," I say, deciding to extend her an invite. "If you'd like to join me and see just how different I am from my father, you should. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."
I see the corner of her mouth curl up in the hint of a smile. And with that, I watch as the world's most textbook-perfect woman turns around and exits the room.
Fuck. I'm in trouble.
4
Ashley
I open the door to the roof and step outside, squinting my eyes at the bright afternoon sun. I shouldn’t be here—and I didn’t mean to come here—but something about Percy’s son drew me in. Maybe it was his confident tone, or the way his shirt clung to his toned pecs…
Don’t look at me like that. I might have been forced into this horrid marriage, but that doesn’t mean I’m no longer a woman. In fact, it seems that being Percy’s wife has made me more attuned to my urges. All that I can expect from this marriage is a long sexual drought, which to be honest, suits me just fine. I wouldn’t be able to stomach having Percy’s clammy fingers on me. Not to mention his shriveled cock. God, if only I could just scrape away that image from my mind. But, Parker, on the other hand…
Walking on tiptoes, I head toward the rooftop pool, a dryness taking over my throat as I lay eyes on him. Parker is lying back on a lounge chair, eyes closed and hands behind his head as the sun makes his tanned skin glisten. Just one look at him and my heart starts to race.
He’s shirtless; a pair of swimming shorts is the only clothing on his body. He’s perfectly still, but even so his muscles demand all of my attention. I mean, those are 8-pack abs. Aside from the male models on magazine covers, which I always assumed had a hefty dose of Photoshop wizardry on their bodies. I’d never actually seen someone with this kind of muscle definition. And the way his abdominal wall ends in a delicious V-cut... God, is it me or does that look like an invitation?
I stand close to the pool, my toes dangling over the edge as I mentally devour every perfect inch of his body. Lucky for me, he doesn’t open his eyes; maybe he’s sleeping, or simply zoning out and doesn’t seem to have noticed my presence, which is for the best, really. This way I can fully appreciate the chiseled muscles he hid under his crisp white shirt.
It’s almost hard to believe that he is Percy’s son. He seems like the perfect antithesis—while the word disgusting applies perfectly to Percy, Parker is the definition of eye candy. His muscles seem to have been carved out of marble, and his full lips seem like the perfect excuse for a kiss.
I know this is improper, you don’t need to tell me that. Aside from the fact that he’s my stepson, he’s more than a decade my junior. And, judging by the way he carries himself, he surely must have a harem of girls in their 20s fawning over him. What chance would I have with a guy like him?
I open my mouth to call him, but I stop myself right before his name rolls over my tongue. What am I doing here? It’s not like I can just hang around with him and play in the pool as if I didn’t have a worry in the world. I’m married to that monster, Percy, and this is his son… I’m not living a fantasy where we can all be friends and hold hands. No, this is the real world I’m living in.
That doesn’t stop my mind from running wild, though. As I stand here, completely hypnotized by the man lying just a few feet away from me, the gears inside my head are turning at full speed. I can see myself going around the pool and sitting next to him, my fingertips running down his washboard abs to his waistline.… And then further down. I wonder what those shorts of his are hiding. Judging by what I’ve seen from his half-naked body, I’d wager that what’s there is something equally impressive.
“Enjoying the show?” Parker says suddenly, opening his eyes lazily as a grin takes over his lips. The smart look on his face tells me that he knew that I was here all along, staring at him shamelessly.
“Maybe,” I smile at him, my heart pounding so hard that I start to feel dizzy. My eyes are locked on his, and I start to feel blood running to my cheeks—and to some other places.
Stretching his arms, Parker gets up from the lounge chair, his muscles flexing as he moves. God, to see him moving around, his half-naked body moving like a sinful miracle… He looks even more perfect, if that’s possible.
“Why don’t you take those clothes off…?” he asks me, the grin on his face widening as I feel a growing wetness between my thighs. “And join me in the pool?” he continues, almost as if to show that there was no hidden innuendo in his first question.
I say nothing for a second—a second that seems to stretch for all eternity. I feel his eyes travelling all over my body, just like I did before, and that makes my mind cook in a slow boil. I want to push the straps of my tight-fitting dress down my shoulders, and I want him to see that I’m as hot as any college-aged girl. The fact that I’m not wearing a bikini, just a tiny thong and a lace bra, doesn’t even register in my mind.
Focus, Ashley! I hear reality’s whip snap deep inside of me, and that brings me back to reality. He’s Percy son! That voice continues to say, its tone a warning one. That’s right, I can’t let myself be fooled by his good looks and chiseled abs. This whole family is poisonous, and I can’t forget that. After what they did to my father, there’s no way I’m going to be cuddling with the enemy, even if I’m part of their family now. But there’s something that I can do.
“I’m too lazy to take my own clothes off,” I tell him with a grin, a seductive tone to my words, almost as if I were asking him to undress me. And that’s exactly what I want him to think. “Maybe another time, Parker,” I tell him, turning around on my heel. I walk toward the door, swaying my hips lewdly as I walk; he’s looking at my ass right now, and I know it.
I’m playing with fire here. You don’t need to tell me that. But I refuse to be a victim in this whole affair. I’m going to get my revenge on Percy… And I’m going to get Parker to help me do it.
5
Parker
Fuck—that’s all I can say after spending one week under the same roof as Ashley. She’s driving me fucking crazy; I’m not going to lie about that. Since the first time I laid eyes on her I knew she was going to be fucking trouble. I mean, a woman as hot as her has trouble written all over her.
And the worst part? I think she wants to drive me fucking crazy. There’s something in her eyes, something I can’t quite put my finger on. And the way she walks around the house, always wearing tight shorts and showing her toned legs… Not to mention the low-cut shirts she wears—swear to God, it’s a fucking wonder that I can look her in the eyes when her cleavage acts like a fucking magnet. Fuck, it’s a wonder that I’m not walking around 24/7 with a fucking boner.
After one week of this, I’m going bat-shit crazy. I can’t sleep at night, for fuck’s sake. Every time I close my eyes her image dances behind my eyelids, and I get fucking hard. Yeah, I won’t fucking lie; I’ve stroked myself more times than I can count while thinking of her. Sure, I could just head out and try to find a willing slut, and there are a lot of them, that much I can tell you. But I don’t think that would fucking help. Her presence is venom, and I’m fucking poisoned already.
Fuck, I can’t go on like this. I need to blow off some fucking steam. And what better way than a grueling session at the gym? It won’t fucking hurt, I guess, and that’s exactly why I’m heading toward the home gym my father built in one of the spare rooms a few years ago. It’s not like he fucking uses it; the only numbers he cares about benching are the ones in his fucking bank account, but it has always been my favorite place in the whole house.
I stop dead in my tracks as I see a reflection on the gym’s sliding glass doors. There’s someone inside, and it sure as fuck isn’t my father. F
uck, I know I should be turning back right now, but that’s like telling a hungry wolf to step away from its prey. I close the distance between the door and me, but hold off on stepping inside. Ashley is in there, on top of a blue rubber mat, and her back is arched as she bends her body.
My eyes roam all over her tight body, tracing every single one of her curves, from her heaving breasts to her perfect ass. She’s wearing tight yoga pants, the kind that leave little to the imagination… And fuck, imagination would never beat the real thing. It’s a fucking shame, really, that a woman like her ended up with a man like my father. Even though she’s closing in on her 40s, Ashley is a fucking knockout. She could have any man she fucking wanted, there's no doubt about that.
She goes up to her feet, and gazing over her shoulder, she looks straight at me. My heart skips a fucking beat, and my cock starts to twitch. I stand here, silent and unmoving, as her lips turn into a grin. Looking forward, she bends over, planting the palms of her hands on the floor; with her ass turned to me, she lowers her hips, her chin dipping down as she bends her arms and moves her torso forward. She repeats that fucking motion for God knows long, my cock hardening each time she does it.
I actually have to take a fucking deep breath to remain in control. I have to play it cool. One more deep breath and I slide the door to the side, stepping inside while she goes up to her feet.
“Are you going to be my yoga partner?” she asks, turning her body to me. I have to resist the fucking burning urge to look at her breasts, their curves pushing against the tight tank top she’s wearing. Fuck, I just want to pin her against the wall and push those fucking yoga pants down her legs.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who does yoga?” I say, trying to act natural. I walk across the room and toward the bench close to the weight rack.
