“Hey,” she says, shyly.
“Hey back,” I reply. “Now sit your ass down.”
I take her in as she comes closer. She’s in her pajamas, a tight black tank top and shorts covered in polka dots. I know if she turns around I’ll definitely be getting a show of the bottom of her ass cheeks. My dick is aching to see this girl naked and fuck her. I check her out, focusing on her toned legs, and lick my lips in hunger.
“Did you lose your t-shirt or something?” She asks, her eyes blazing down on my bare chest. I want her to drink me up, get turned on, and let me have a piece of her. If I have to walk around with my chest out every goddamn day, I’ll do it until she gives it up.
“I figured I’d give you something good to look at since you don’t get it with your boyfriend.” She rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, and thanks for letting me use your car.”
She gives me an innocent smile and sits down. “No problem. Did you have fun tonight?”
“It was alright.” I’m sure as fuck not going to be sharing how I had my hand deep in a girl’s pussy.
Her nose scrunches up. “I can smell alcohol on your breath. You drove my car while drunk?”
“I’m definitely not drunk, babe. I had two beers.”
“So you drank and drove?”
“Two beers is nothing.”
“But I trusted you.” She’s not angry. She looks more disappointed than anything.
“I’m sorry.” I feel bad for letting her down. “But really, two beers is nothing. It doesn’t affect me one bit.”
“Everyone says that until they kill a family or something.”
“Does two beers get you wasted?”
She sticks out her tongue in disgust. I want to lean forward and taste it. “I wouldn’t know. Beer is pretty much the nastiest thing on this Earth.”
“So you don’t drink?”
“I’ve had wine and … stuff.”
“Stuff?” I ask, curiously. I’m ready to see more of the bad girl come out.
Her eyes don’t meet mine. “Champagne, vodka, tequila,” she rambles off.
“And you keep getting more and more fun.” I tap her on the forehead and jump up from the couch.
“Where are you going?” She asks.
“Be right back.”
I rush into my bedroom to grab the bottle from my bedside drawer and head back into the living room.
She holds her hands up when she sees the bottle and shakes her head. “Oh no, that’s not happening.”
I hold up the full bottle of tequila. “Oh, it’s happening, sunshine. You,” I point the bottle towards her. “And me,” I point towards myself, “are about to have some fucking fun.”
“There’s no way I’m drinking with you right now. Our parents can wake up at any time,” she hisses.
“That’s the fun part, the whole I could get busted gives you an even bigger buzz. Plus, I don’t think they ever even come down here.”
She fakes a yawn and stretches her arms out above her. “I’m actually feeling pretty tired.”
I grab her arm when she gets up to leave. “Nu uh, princess.”
She plops back down. “Fine, but I’m not drinking.”
I screw off the cap and take a long drawl from the bottle. It stings as it goes down, but it tastes like heaven. I try to hand the bottle to her but she shakes her head. “Fine, more for me then. But I thought you’d want to shed your doormat image …”
“I’m not a doormat,” she snaps.
“You are so a doormat.”
She stares at me in contemplation. I know I’m basically the definition of peer pressure right now, but I want to see her let loose. I want to see her throw out all of her inhibitions, show me the real her.
Liquid splashes against my arm when she snatches the bottle from my hand. She wraps her plump lips around the rim and takes a drink. I watch her face as she swallows it down, and it shows full distaste. She pulls the bottle away, inhales a deep breath and then gulps down another drawl.
“Damn girl,” I say, slowly pulling the bottle away from her.
“What? You said to show you I’m not a doormat. Let loose a little princess,” she says, mocking my voice.
“I said get a little loose, not take a trip to the emergency room, killer.”
She shrugs, a giant grin on her face. “So now I’m feeling a buzz, you happy?”
“The better question is are you happy?”
“I guess,” she chirps. She leans back and starts to get comfortable. “So are we watching a movie or something?”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“I’ll do whatever you want to do.”
I raise my brows. “Whatever I want to do …”
She scoots in closer to shove my chest. “We’re not having sex.”
“Is that the only stipulation? Because I can find plenty of fun things to do with you that aren’t necessarily sex. I can use my tongue …”
She shoves me again. “Or anything sexual.”
I frown. “You always take away all of the fun.”
She hikes her leg up on the coffee table. I can feel my dick pulsating. Fuck, what I’d do to lick her from her ankle up to her thigh.
“I wonder if it counts against the rules if we’re down here after midnight considering we both live here,” she says, completely oblivious that I haven’t taken my eyes off of her leg. My cock starts to swell up.
I take a deep breath. “Fuck the rules.”
“You can’t say fuck the rules,” she whispers, a small giggle escaping her.
“I can say whatever the fuck I want. And so can you.”
“I can as soon as I get out of here.” She holds up three fingers. “Three months.”
“And you’ll be leaving for school?”
She nods, anchoring a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yep. Columbia.”
“Why there?”
“Why not there? It’s Ivy League.”
“That’s your only reason? Sounds pretty superficial to me.”
“Quit ruining my high. I want to be a pediatrician and that’s where I’m going to get the best education to help people. It’s not superficial. It’s me wanting to be great at my profession. The more I know, the better I can help people.”
“I like that. You got heart.” I feel bad for wanting to seduce her for a second, but that quickly goes away when my eyes travel back to her thighs.
“What about you? Are you in school?” She asks.
“Nope.”
“So what do you do?”
“I worked at a tattoo shop in Cali, but that’s about it. School is not for me.”
She tilts her head to the side, like she’s examining me. “Why isn’t it for you?”
“First it costs a shitload of money, which I don’t have much of. Second, I’m not planning on being a doctor or anything, so it’s a waste to go.”
I graduated high school and then immediately started working. College was never in the plans for me. I worked a few low paying jobs and then got into tattooing. I was finally starting to make money before I got arrested.
She nods in understanding. “Why exactly are you here?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m sure it can be uncomplicated.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, tightly squeezing my eyes. “I got arrested.”
She bites the edge of her lip, but doesn’t flinch at my answer. “I heard something about that. How did that bring you here, though?”
“After I got arrested my mom called my dad, begging him to get me a lawyer that I didn’t fucking want. My dad called one of his friends he went to school with. They somehow made a plea deal. Basically I had to get my ass out of Cali for six months, get my shit together, and then the charges would be dropped.”
“So what did you do to get arrested?”
“I beat up a guy.”
“For what?”
“I walked in on him using my mom as a punching bag.”
That was
one of the worst days of my life. He had my mom cornered against the wall, his fist pounding into her cheek over and over again. My blood boiled. I wanted to kill the fucker. I grabbed him by his throat, threw him down on the ground, and beat the shit out of him. I would’ve killed him if the cops didn’t come in and stop me. The neighbor had called them because she heard yelling.
“Oh … Then I don’t blame you,” she says, shocking me. I was sure when I told her she’d think I was a bad guy. “Drunken conversations are the best. You would’ve never told me that sober.”
I shrug. “I would’ve told you eventually.”
She snorts. “Yeah, right. You don’t like to talk about anything besides pussy.”
I throw my head back in laughter. “Oh sunshine, you’re already getting used to me.”
A smile itches at her lips for a second until she lets it out. “That means you trust me, though.”
“What?”
“You trust me enough to tell me that.”
The muscles in my neck convulse. I’m not ready for a serious conversation like this. I don’t like serious conversations.
“I guess that means I do,” I say, my voice low. “And I think you trust me, too. You like hanging out with me.”
I can feel the alcohol rising through my veins. I focus my eyes on her. She's feeling it, too. Something shifts and the air in the room gets hot.
My cock springs back to life when I notice the goose bumps pop up along her legs. Her thighs clench together. Her tongue dips between the seams of her lips. She wants me as bad as I want her.
She flinches when my hand cups her thighs, but doesn’t pull away. I twist her to the side, my hand inching up towards her heat, as she looks up at me with lust filled eyes. I’m ready to take her on this fucking couch.
Her breaths are caught in her throat. I scoot forward, fully ready to run my tongue in between her lips before I drive it into her mouth.
Her eyes flutter open, reality hitting her. Her palm smacks into my chest and she pulls away. “I have a boyfriend,” she whispers.
“Break up with him,” I say, my tone completely serious.
I’ve been drinking, but the thought of her dumping him makes me feel inflamed.
“I can also smell perfume on your shirt.” Hurt is clear in her voice. I look down, feeling like the asshole that I am. “I’m not like that. I’m not that kind of girl, Zeth.”
I scrub my hands over my face. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Work on not being that kind of guy.”
7. ADDISON
“So, where’s the sexy stepbrother at?” My best friend, Savannah asks, jumping up from my bed as I finish tying my bikini top.
“He’s downstairs sleeping considering it’s eight in the morning,” I answer, pulling my hair up in a high bun. I feel nauseated from the tequila and thoughts of having to see Zeth after what happened last night. No matter what, it’s going to be awkward.
I almost kissed him. I wanted to kiss him. The guilt that I feel from that is sickening. I have a boyfriend. I love Cam; at least I think I do.
“Good thing we’re going downstairs, so I can check his ass out,” she says, skipping down the stairs¸ her black hair bobbing up and down. I inwardly groan. I don’t want her messing with Zeth. I don’t even want her meeting him, but I know there’s a chance because our basement leads out to the pool.
He’s passed out on the couch snoring when we get downstairs. I notice the bottle we were sipping on last night sitting on the table. I guess he doesn’t care if he gets busted with that.
Savannah tiptoes over to the couch and peeks over the back of it. “Holy shit,” she mouths, pointing to him. “That’s him?”
I hold my finger to my lips. “You’re going to wake him up,” I whisper, running over to grab her arm and pull her away from him.
Her face lights up. “I want to wake him up so I can see more of him.”
I slap her arm. “Go outside. I’ll grab the towels and meet you there.”
“Fine,” she yells out. “If your step-brother just so happens to wake up, let him know he’s more than welcome to join us by the pool.”
I stop in my step and whip around to give her a dirty look.
“Will you be wearing bikinis?” I hear Zeth yell out in a husky voice.
“Damn straight,” Savannah chirps, clearly proud she woke him.
“Be there in five, ladies,” he replies.
I take short, slow steps to the spare bathroom where we store all of our beach towels. My stomach twists when I think about Savannah with Zeth. She’s going to try to sleep with him, and I’m sure she’ll succeed. I know he’s not mine and it’s wrong, but I don’t want Savannah to have him. I don’t want anyone else to have him.
“I like that suit,” Zeth says, startling me when I walk out. I’m greeted with his bare chest again and he’s wearing swimming trunks.
“Thanks,” I say, looking down at myself insecurely. “Oh, and look who’s checking out who now.” I give him a forced smile, trying to make light of the situation.
Hello awkwardness.
He grins, holding up his hands. His hair is rustled at the top, giving off the whole messy, bedhead look. “Busted and mistrusted,” he says. “But you can’t come out looking like that and expect me not to look. You’re body is fucking amazing, and that suit shows me every curve you’re working with.” His words seem to always set me on fire.
I didn’t want him to think I was a prude, so I chose the skimpiest black bikini I have. I’m not sure if I put it on because there was a chance that he was going to be seeing me in it, but I’ve never worn it around the house. I’ve only worn it once – spring break – where I knew my mom would never see it. But here I am, taking another risk because of him.
The top crisscrosses around my neck, making me look like I had more cleavage than I do, and the bottoms have peek-a-boo cutouts on the sides.
“Look about last night,” he begins.
“Don’t,” I blurt out, stopping him. “We were both drinking and nothing happened.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say nothing happened considering I know you would’ve been on my dick if you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t kiss guys who’ve already messed around with girls earlier that night,” I hiss. “Man whore.”
“Man whore,” he repeats slowly. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure you have,” I say, around a huff. I turn on my heel and walk away from him.
He follows me outside. I discreetly peek over my shoulder to see if he’s checking out my ass. And he is.
“Well … well,” Savannah says, getting up from her chair, her eyes glued to Zeth. “You seriously have one of the best bodies I’ve ever laid eyes on.” She looks at me. “I can’t believe you’re living with this and not jumping his bones.”
He winks at her. “Thanks, babe.”
At least he’s not complimenting her back, or tearing her bikini bottoms off and screwing her in front of me.
My nausea increases. Savannah is everything I’m not. She doesn’t even have to try to look sexy in her bright red bikini. She sits down and men are drawn straight to her. She’s exactly Zeth’s type.
I lay my towel across my chair and settle down. I watch Zeth jump into the pool. He comes back up and shakes off his wet hair.
Savannah looks at me, excitement dancing in her eyes. “Holy shit. You better be a good wing woman and make sure I get that sometime this summer, Add,” she says, not taking her eyes off of him.
Zeth falls down in the chair next to me before I have the chance to reply to her.
“God, it’s so hot out here,” Savannah says, rubbing tanning oil over her arms. She looks at him with expectation. I know this trick. She’s done it so many times in front of me. She wants him to offer to oil her up.
He surprisingly doesn’t say or offer anything to her.
“So, how long are you here for?” She asks him.
I pretend
I’m bored, studying my fingernails, and act like I’m not listening to their conversation.
“Not long. Six months,” he answers her.
“Why only six months?” She asks, a frown splitting across her tan face.
“Because that’s what the court order says.”
She pushes her chest out and bats her lashes. “Court order? I love me a bad boy.”
“So, you start working tomorrow?” I ask, quickly changing the subject before I throw everything in my stomach up.
Zeth nods. “Yep, they said I’ll either be running the golf cart beverages or serving beer behind the bar. They haven’t decided yet.”
“Looks like I’ll be taking up golf then,” Savannah says.
8. ZETH
“Do you have a thing for her?” Savannah asks, climbing into Addison’s abandoned chair when she disappears into the house.
“What?” I ask.
“Addison, you keep staring at her like you want to rip her clothes off and fuck her right here.”
She seems like she’s jealous of Addison. No, I’m positive she’s green with envy, wanting Addison’s life. Something about this chick rubs me the wrong way.
“You clearly need your eyes checked, sweetheart.” I latch my hands behind my neck and rest my head in between them.
“You sure about that?” She pushes.
“Positive, she’s far from my type.”
She scoots in closer, like those words are the only weapons I need to get her to drop her panties. “Then what’s your type?”
“Not lost virginal puppies.”
I don’t know if Addison has told her friend about her broken virtue, but I’m not going to be the one to share it. If she wants everyone in the goddamn world to think her pussy has never been touched, that’s her business.
“Good news for you, then.”
“And what’s that?” I already know what she’s going to say.
“I’m exactly your type.” Bingo. I was right. “I’m definitely not a virgin and more than willingly to screw on a first date.”
I raise a brow. Easy chicks are so predictable. “Oh really? Then you’re definitely my type.”
“So when are you taking me out?”
I don’t want to take this chick out. The only thing I’d prefer to do with her is drag her to my bedroom, push her down on her knees, and shove my cock in her mouth. That’s it. She seems too needy and annoying for me. She’s the type of girl that would call twenty-five times the next day and then stick my cat in the microwave if I don’t answer.
Stepbrother Aflame Page 4
