My newest target is the only competitor to a business my father and I bought a few months ago. I’ve been luring away customers by undercutting their pricing as well as posting shit reviews on Yelp, Marketplace and their website. I’ve got twenty sock-puppet accounts and with those I’m also making sure to send fake customer emails every day, complaining about this or that and threatening legal action. Even made an anonymous tip to the DA about some stolen goods being sold through there. Sooner or later, I’ll bring them down, or make them miserable enough to sell.
At pennies on the dollar. To us.
“Scotch.” James punches my shoulder. “Look, it’s our new sister.”
I run my tongue over my front teeth, the knots of anger clenching harder in my belly. Dad knows I don’t do family, not outside of the business ventures we have together. And James. This bullshit Larry pulled—I don’t call him dad—telling me he was married again and I was going to have a new sister?
Fuck that. It’s not like we’ve spent a holiday or Sunday dinner together for years. All I want is to search and destroy. Cozying up to some new version of the Brady Bunch is not happening.
Except, fucking nuts.
My balls feel like they just got tased.
“Holy shit,” I mumble as the little cherub red head with an ass for days takes the stage with a shitty karaoke microphone in her hands.
Something cracks inside me. My dick stiffens as my balls threaten to heave. What the fuck is this? I’ve never had this reaction before. Not to any of the girls in any of the clubs or for that matter, motherfucking anywhere.
She’s wearing this little white ruffly sort of blouse and dark jeans and black boots. Simple. Stunning. Fucking take-my-breath-away hot as fuck. The hottest fucking thing that’s ever graced that stage, or ever fucking will.
A wild, dangerous desperation pounds in my temples as I clench my teeth. I already know I’d kill for her. Not because she’s my new stepsister, but because, in some primal corner of my DNA, she’s mine. I want her. In a crazy, lose my fucking mind sort of way.
I’m a control freak when it comes to my life. I’m an asshole and a dickhead to most that know me. But, this girl, fuck-a-duck, I’d carry her bubble butt around on pink pillows for the rest of my fucking life if I could.
This is bad. She’s my new stepsister and it’s going to take all my willpower not to pound into her over the fruitcake at Christmas from now on. Because, I’ll be having her for Christmas. In every position possible.
James and Tiny are jabbering about leasing versus buying or some shit but I’m in another world.
“What’s her fucking name?” I mutter, not sure if I’m talking to myself or asking them.
“Huh? Oh, Lois I think,” James says.
I cinch my brow, then Tiny adds, “Not Lois, dipshit, Lula. How do I know this shit and you two don’t?”
Because we don’t talk to our father. Life is more pleasant that way.
Tiny raises a brow and adds. “She’s cute too.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I shove a finger into Tiny’s chest, pushing him back not even an inch but it’s the only time I’ve touched him. I don’t do touching. No hugs, no handshakes. Not even James. Everyone fucking knows.
Don’t. Touch. Scotch.
I can’t fucking stop staring at her. I don’t remember the last time I felt this sort of lust. I mean, yes, I have lust. I’ve had lust, I should say. It’s been a while. It’s the only bit of touching I’ve done with anyone and it’s been a year, maybe more. And even then, it was a non-event and rare. Fast and dirty. No kissing, no fucking talking. It was some sort of ballast relief but over time, that’s lost its appeal as well.
It’s no secret I could probably have my pick of ninety-percent of the girls that work in the clubs but there’s no pull for me there.
But, this. Jesus, this copper-haired beauty with the spooky blue eyes is flooring me from across the room. She holds the mic in front of her lips. There’s an innocence and discomfort in her expression that makes me want to leap up there and sweep her away.
She’s too good for this shithole, too pure, too perfect. And every fucking man in this room is looking at her.
My fingers curl into fists, that ball of anger I carry in my chest starting to pound as I try to understand what the fuck is happening to me.
“Hi. I’m Lula.” She mumbles into the mic as Leroy, tonight’s DJ, leans in for her to whisper in his ear and I want to fucking tear it off. Imagining her sweet breath colliding with any other man’s flesh is almost more than I can take. “This is called Shallow.”
Lula. Her name is a Mike Tyson punch to the side of my head.
There’s a smattering of applause with one excited bride in a skintight white leopard skin unitard fist pumping the air.
My new stepmother.
I’m already moving forward as the first notes of the song stream through the overhead speakers.
She’s a good girl. I sense it. Sweet. Probably untouched from the blush on her cheeks and the way she’s holding her legs together. The filthy thoughts that tumble through my head are beyond any porn I’ve ever seen. I want to make love to her slow and easy then spit on her asshole and tell her to beg me to butt fuck her while she’s wearing my belt around her throat.
I can’t stop looking at her lips as she starts to sing.
So fucking sexy. Her plump pink lips match her plump tits and her crazy lush hips. One pout from her and I’d give her the world.
I’d settle between those thick thighs until she was a sopping wet mess with burn marks on her skin from my stubble.
She’s your stepsister, douche. Stop.
Doesn’t matter. She’s a fucking wrecking ball destroying every atom of anger and resentment I’ve held on to like my life preserver forever.
At least, for her. I still hate everyone else. Everything else. But, Lula…
Fuck, even her fucking name wrecks me.
I’m already fucking gone when the first words of the song drip from her glossy lips and every wall I’ve built around myself crumbles.
Tell me something, girl
Are you happy in the modern world?
Or do you need more?
Is there something else you’re searchin’ for?
That lost unsteadiness evaporates as she closes her eyes and the lilt of her voice spreads through me like a sweet poison. The song stings me in places that have never felt anything. She raises one hand along with the high note, tightening my balls against my body.
Tell me something, boy
Aren’t you tired trying to fill that void?
Or do you need more?
Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore?
This is going to fuck things up. The things I want to do to my new stepsister but it’s a force larger than myself. As I move through the tables, winding like a viper toward my prey, my eyes lock on the ‘V’ between her legs.
I imagine throwing her down, cutting every shred of her clothing from her curves, grabbing her behind the knees and spreading her wide so I see it all. That slick pink slit, that puckered little asshole. My fire’s never been lit like this and I start to wonder if the bartender slipped something in my water shot just for shits and grins.
The irresponsible desire to defile her, to have her sticky and stuffed full of my cock as I pump through my own jizz to fill her up again, is all-consuming like wildfire on the horizon.