His bedroom? Who the hell is this guy? What the hell is he doing standing in my basement?
Heat radiates through my face. “Who the hell are you?” I shriek, and notice Cam still hasn’t pulled out.
Dear God, I’m about to have this conversation with my boyfriend’s dick still lodged inside of me. This couldn’t get any more humiliating.
Cam is supporting himself with the back of the couch and looking at the guy over his shoulder. He hasn’t moved or said one word. I’m not sure if he doesn't know what to do, or if he actually thinks we’re going to start back up when this guy leaves. Yeah, that’s definitely not going to happen.
I slap his shoulder to get his attention. His eyes shoot down to me. He takes the hint, bends down and grabs his shirt from the floor. He throws it over our bottom halves and pulls out of me. We both scramble to find the rest of our clothes. I manage to throw a shirt on over my head, sans bra, and pull my panties up my legs.
“I’m Zeth,” the guy finally says.
The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Okay … Is that supposed to mean something to me?” I ask, and then it hits me. Why am I talking to this stranger who snuck into my house? I look around for my phone. “I’m calling the cops.”
“No, fuck,” he rushes out. “I’m Leonard’s son.”
Fear slithers through me, and my stomach goes rock hard. Shit, I forgot Leonard, my stepdad, has a son. Leonard has been married to my mom for almost five years, but his son has never come around. He didn’t even come to their wedding.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to stay calm.
“I live here now.”
“I’m sorry, you what?”
As far as I knew, he lives in California, so why is he here in the Hamptons?
He lets out a biting laugh. “I guess my dear ol’ dad didn’t give you a heads up, huh? Or you probably wouldn’t be down here giving me a show.” He scratches his short, black hair. “Say hello to the new family addition, sis.” He waves at me sarcastically and then looks over at Cam, who still hasn’t said a word. “Don’t worry, dude. I won’t try to fuck her.” His smirk grows more malicious and his eyes meet mine. “Unless she asks for it.”
I grimace. He shrugs his shoulders and heads towards the guest bedroom like we’re no longer entertaining to him.
“What the fuck?” Cam says, finally deciding to talk when he hears the guest room door slam shut. “This fucker is going to be living here with you?”
“I guess so,” I answer.
“I don’t want you here with him.” He grabs his shirt, pulls it over his arms, and starts to button it up. “He seems like a raging asshole and I’m positive he’s going to try to fuck you.”
I bend down to snag my bra and panties from the floor. “He might try, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give in.”
I’m going to be staying as far away from him as I can.
Cam seems satisfied with my answer. “I guess I better head out.”
“What? You’re going to leave me alone with this guy?”
He slips on his flip-flops, and lets out an annoyed breath. “I told you I couldn’t stay long.”
“Yeah, but you never told me why.”
“Dinner with my parents, babe.”
I frown. “So why can’t I tag along? They always invite me to dinner.”
“They said it’s a private matter or something. They want to have a personal talk or some shit, damn.” He bends down to give me a kiss. “I’ll call you when I get home. Love you.”
I give him a small smile. “I love you, too.”
I jump up from the couch and scurry upstairs as soon as Cam walks out the back door.
Apparently I have a stepbrother who’s a giant asshole. Oh, and he also has dirt on me. My entire day just went straight to hell.
2. ZETH
I’m eavesdropping on the couch bangers’ conversation. I can’t help but grin when I hear the guy pulling the fuck and run on this chick. He’s doing a pussy ass job at it, too. There’s an art to ditching girls after getting laid. You want her to feel satisfied, rewarded in the end, just in case you ever want to come back for seconds. I’ve pulled the fuck and run so many times I’m a fucking expert. I might even try to throw this guy some tips.
Any decent person would’ve turned around and left the room if they walked in on two people fucking, but not me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not creeping in people’s bushes at night and watching them get freaky like some voyeur. I don’t get off on that shit. But that was too good to walk away from.
The last thing I expected after traveling across the country was to find my dad’s new perfect little family wasn’t so perfect after all. I almost pissed myself when I heard the moaning and grunting as I made my way downstairs, following the directions of the maid. I silently prayed that I wasn’t about to walk in on my dad railing his new wife or mistress.
Instead, I found something less revolting and much more interesting: my new stepsister. I thought the little blonde princess was going to have a heart attack when she saw me.
I grab the doorknob when I hear the guy leave, slightly twisting it while debating whether or not to go fuck with her some more, but I stop myself. I don’t need her going and telling my dad that I’m harassing her or some shit. She looks like one of those girls with a giant stick up her ass. I’m sure she wouldn’t give two fucks about making trouble for me. At least I have blackmail on her. It’s always a good thing to be one step ahead of people.
I throw my bag down on the king size bed and my blood starts to boil as I take a look around. My dad has been out here living large in a house that’s practically a fucking mansion, but didn’t even have enough damn courtesy to pay my mom a dime of child support when I was growing up.
He didn’t even have enough backbone to pick me up from the airport. His overweight driver attempted to muster up some bullshit excuse, but I know the real reason. He doesn’t want me here. That makes two of us. The only reason I’m here is because of a court order.
***
I glance up from my phone when I hear my bedroom door fly open. My dad appears in the doorway, his haughty eyes assessing me, and he shoves his hand into the pockets of his suit pants.
“Son,” he says, his eyes darkening. He shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t want anyone overhearing our conversation because he knows I come without a filter. That’s what happens when you grow up without a dad, you say anything that’s on your fucking mind and don’t give a shit about it. “Long time, no see.”
I scoff. It’s been eight years since I’ve seen him. I was thirteen. He’d only come around a few times before then, but that last time I thought he was staying for good. He took me out for pizza, gave me fifty bucks, and told me he’d see me tomorrow. That never happened.
It’s been two years since we’ve had an actual conversation. He called one day to talk to my mom and I told him to fuck off. He thinks I’m a disrespectful prick and I think he’s a pompous, self-centered asshole. I don’t know what the fuck my mom ever saw in him.
“What’s up?” I ask, hoping he isn’t going to try some fatherly bonding bullshit. This guy makes me sick.
“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”
“I’m not hungry. Long flight.”
He shakes his head. “Too bad. I’m sure you’re not accustomed to this, but we eat dinner every night as a family.”
I toss my phone down next to me. “You’re right,” I say, staring straight into eyes that are strikingly similar to mine. “I’m not accustomed to it because my mom had to work two jobs to support us. We didn’t have the time, or money to sit around a table and act all fucking proper.”
“You watch your mouth,” he warns, his finger flying up in the air. “I’m only going to say this once. You will respect me and my family …”
“I’m not your family?” I ask, cutting him off and holding my hand to my heart. “I’m so heartbroken.”
“You’ll meet my wife, Melinda, and her daughter, Addison tonight. Don�
�t mess with them, especially Addison. I will not lose my marriage because of you. I’m giving you enough time to get a job and save up for either your own place or a ticket back home when your time is up. You’re old enough to be on your own. I’m only doing this for your mother.”
“Oh, now you want to think about her,” I say, with a snort.
He snarls, turns around, and slams the door shut on his way out.
***
Dinner is baked chicken and broccoli, and was prepared with love by their cook, Sally. How fucking precious.
I grab my fork and immediately start to dig in. I freeze up when I hear a loud cough. All eyes are on me. I slowly set my fork back down by my plate, looking around the table and wondering what everyone is waiting for.
“Grace,” is all my dad says.
They all bow their heads and Melinda starts praying. I know I should probably be doing the same thing, but I’m taking this time to take each one of them in.
I knew as soon as I walked upstairs to meet Melinda she didn’t like me. Her words were nice, but her upper lip curled up when I said hi. Her eyes swallowed in my tattoos like they were foreign objects to her, which pissed me off. Tattoos aren’t so fucking taboo anymore. I’m sure mine aren’t the first she’s seen.
Melinda looks like an older, more frigid version of Addison. Her blonde hair is cut directly at the base of her neck, and she’s wearing a black formal dress and pearls.
I glance down at my own clothes. I’m sporting an old tattered concert tee from last year’s Coachella, and ripped jeans.
My eyes move to Addison, who’s not keeping up with grace either because she’s looking straight at me. Her baby blues dart away from mine when I give her a wink. She could barely muster out a simple hello when her mom introduced us. I acted like I hadn’t met her, or seen her pretty little ass naked.
She’s not wearing a dress like her mom, but she certainly looks a few steps up from me. Her blonde, almost white, hair is down in loose waves that hit the peak of her chest. I wish she were showing more cleavage in her black tee. I only caught a glimpse of her tits earlier, but they looked pretty damn good from a distance.
Her skin is on the fair side, but sun-kissed, most likely from lying out by their pool in the backyard. She’s attractive. I’ll admit that, but not my type. I don’t usually go for the snotty, rich chicks.
“Zeth, honey,” Melinda says when they finish up, her voice soft-spoken. “I want to take this time to go over our house rules.”
“Rules?” I ask, snatching my fork back up. “I’m twenty-one years old.”
I’ve never had rules, even when I was younger. My mom was always working twelve-hour shifts and didn’t give a shit about where I went as long as I helped out with the bills. When I moved out at seventeen, I still helped her with money as much as I could. I’ll never abandon her like my dad did.
“But you’re living under our roof, son,” my dad says, with annoyance. “There are rules here.”
I take a bite and wipe my mouth. “Lay ‘em on me then.”
I’ll sit here and listen to their rules, but I know damn well I’ll be breaking every single one of them.
“Curfew is at midnight during the week and one on the weekends,” Melinda begins. “Any guests you have over must leave by those times as well. If your company is someone of the opposite sex, you two must be in open areas at all times. They are not allowed in your bedroom.”
This has to be a joke. “You’re kidding, right?”
I glance across the table at Addison and she won’t even look at me. She’s staring at her broccoli like it’s the most intriguing thing on Earth. She’s nervous as hell I’m going to open up my big mouth and ruin her good girl image.
I do have to give her some credit, though. She broke the rules and I love nothing more than a rule breaker. Plus, I have some dirt on my lovely little stepsister if she tries snitching on me.
I look back at Melinda. She’s giving me a blank look, clearly telling me she’s not kidding.
“Got it. So I guess I’ll be screwing girls in your open family rooms then. I do want to pre-warn you of possibly re-thinking that rule if you don’t want your couches breaking. I tend to be pretty wild in the sack and I’ve been known to break some furniture, especially when I’m drinking.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and signal to my lap. “No whiskey dick for this guy.”
Addison chokes on her water, my dad’s fork slams onto his plate, and Melinda’s mouth falls open.
“Zeth Alexander,” my dad warns.
I shrug. “I’m just being honest. I don’t have the money to be replacing furniture.”
“No sex under this roof, period,” my dad says, sternly.
“We don’t believe in pre-marital sex in this house,” Melinda adds.
“So when you say we, you mean everybody?” I ask, looking back at Addison who’s now nervously playing with her napkin.
“Yes, I mean everybody. My daughter doesn’t need to be exposed to your … indiscretions,” Melinda answers, like that word even makes her nervous. “If you feel like you need to do that type of behavior, go somewhere else. Not in my home.”
I grin. “I’ll be sure not to corrupt my virginal stepsister.”
3. ADDISON
I’m so screwed.
No, screwed is an understatement. I’m pretty much done for. I thought I was going to have a panic attack during dinner. I sat there, chugging glasses of water and silently praying it would mutate into something containing alcohol – lots of alcohol. I racked my brain for the best excuse to come up with for when Zeth decided to rat me out.
I almost died from humiliation when my mom told him I’m saving myself for marriage. According to her, I have virtues. She assumes that, anyways. She’s the one who made that pact, not me. I’ve never once said I’m saving myself for marriage. I know if she finds out I broke her hopes and dreams, she’ll probably ship me away to do some soul searching this summer. I’m not about to do any of that eat, pray, love crap.
But Zeth shockingly kept his mouth shut. Instead, he decided that I was going to be his enjoyment for dinner. I wanted to lean across the table and strangle him for the endless sexual innuendos and comments he made, trying his best to get me all riled up. He’s bad news. I know he’s going to use this as leverage and if I make one wrong move, he’s going to tear me in two.
I can’t have that happen. It’s time to make a deal.
“Love you too, mom.” I hear his rugged voice say when I stop in front of his bedroom door. I wait until I hear silence and knock. I shuffle my bare feet back and forth against the carpet, waiting for a reply, but get nothing. I knock again, only silence.
“It’s Addison,” I say softly, hoping he can hear me.
I jump when the door clicks open and his six-foot frame is standing in front of me, way too close into my space. I gulp, suddenly becoming aware of my own breathing when I eye his bare chest. He’s sculpted to perfection and I can’t help but stare.
Holy shit. He’s ripped, like insanely ripped. Tattoos swirl around his arms. Adrenaline spreads through my body like a bullet, and I use every ounce of self-control I have to not reach out and touch him. I squeeze my thighs together when I notice the only thing covering him is a towel hanging low on his hips. A deep V cuts down his abdomen and dips underneath the terry fabric.
The air grows thick. I need to turn around and flee, but my feet are refusing to make that jump start because I want to continue eye-fucking him. I know I can’t touch … but looking isn’t bad, right?
“You know if you get busted down here, it’s my ass, princess,” he says, harshly.
He’s right. If I get caught down here, they’ll blame him. They’ll somehow twist it around to look like he forced me to come down to his bedroom. My mom has this assumption that I do no wrong.
I gasp when he snags my chin roughly in his hand and drags it up for me to look at his face. “Usually I’m the one to get told, “my eyes are up here,” but h
ey, my eyes are up here,” he says, arrogantly. “Unless you’re going to do something about it, quit eyeing my cock like you want to wrap your innocent little lips around it. I don’t feel like jacking off tonight.”
“Our parents are asleep,” I say, only answering his first comment because I sure as hell don’t know how to respond to the second one.
He arches a brow. “Is that an invite?”
“What? No!”
“Your loss,” he says, throwing his hands up. He walks backwards and falls down on the bed. His vibrant green eyes meet mine while I stand there awkwardly playing with my hands, trying to figure out where to start. I should’ve pre-planned my speech.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he finally asks, helping me out. His eyes travel down my body this time. “And FYI, I like this look on you.” My hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, and all I’m wearing is a short pair of striped pajama bottoms and a tank top. “I’d prefer you always come to my room naked, but I guess this works, too.”
I roll my eyes. I need to cut to the chase before I chicken out. “You’re not going to tell them, are you?” I ask, walking into the room.
He kicks one leg up and rests his back against the headboard. If I bend down, I know I’ll get a view of his cock. I swallow hard. He’s trying to fuck with me.
A smile forms on his thick lips, giving me a show of his straight, white teeth. “Ah, so this is why you’re here? Not to shower me with welcome love or jump in my bed, but to make sure I won’t rat on your pretty ass. My lips are sealed, virgin princess.”
I scowl at him, but chose to ignore his insult. “Thank you,” I say, in relief.
“It’s not my business to tell. And I expect the same from you.”
“What?”
“You won’t be opening up your mouth when I break the rules, either. You’ll turn around, walk your sassy ass up those stairs, and act like you didn’t see shit.”
I close my eyes and feel my body start to blush as I think about him having sex in front of me. Goose bumps roll across my skin. I’m more excited at this moment than I’ve ever been with Cam, and he’s not even touching me.
Bad For You: (An Older Brother's Best Friend Romance) Page 20