Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I post the photo to Insta and it already floods with likes. On this public Instagram profile I’m Niko, with a curated stream of artistic pictures from my life.
But my explicit account on the CamboyChaos app is the exact opposite.
My username is Dragonfly.
Nothing’s planned or perfect.
I always wear an iridescent black and silver mask in the videos to hide my identity. I post my cock if I feel like it, or pictures of me with toys deep in my ass. Videos of me edging myself into oblivion over the course of an hour, then letting go and coming so hard it shoots up onto my chest.
On that account, I post completely on impulse. And I meticulously keep both fanbases separate. My Dragonfly profile feels more like me than the public one where I show my face. In my actual life, I’ve gotten used to feeling unwanted, with each private prep school eventually kicking me out, my father abandoning me, and my mother most likely wishing I’d never been born.
I got in constant fights while playing hockey, and off the ice sometimes too.
“Troubled” was the kindest word most authorities used to describe me.
So I’ve channeled my strengths into a place where they’re very wanted. I’ll give fans my cock any day. It’s real life that’s the bitch.
“You made it!”
The voice comes from in front of me as I’m replying with heart emojis to some of my Insta followers.
I lock my phone and slide it away.
When I look up, a tall, dirty-blond jock is heading my way.
“Weston?” I ask.
He gives me a hesitant smile, nodding as he holds out his hand.
Fuck.
He’s actually getting emotional about this.
“I can’t believe I’m meeting my brother for the first time,” he says.
As he shakes my hand, something seems to overtake him and he comes in for a full hug instead.
I’m caught off guard. My whole body tenses.
But Weston is clearly processing his feelings, even though I feel almost nothing about meeting new family for the first time in my life.
“Half-brother,” I correct him as he pulls away.
And you’re the lucky one who actually got to have a father, growing up.
Guess that’s just how the poisoned cookie crumbled.
Weston waves a hand through the air. “Half-brother is still half my blood. Doesn’t matter. We’re family. Come in, let me introduce you to Hunter.”
I suck in a deep breath of air, nodding.
I need to play nice.
Need to not cause trouble for once in a new place. Lie low, and not get fucking kicked out.
I follow him deeper into Onyx House, past the main room and toward the back, where some guys are hanging out playing some sort of drinking game with a big bottle of absinthe in the center of the table.
A few of the guys look up at me, clearly recognizing that I’m new.
I'm never a fan of going to parties where I don’t know a single soul, but there’s a unique bitterness about it when two of those people are your half-brothers and they still feel more like strangers than anyone else.
“Hunter,” Weston says, finding his other brother.
Hunter looks up. He looks a lot like Weston but with lighter blond hair and a slightly thinner frame. He’s in the corner next to another jocky guy who has his arm draped around him.
Hunter steps toward me, looking at me like I’m some sort of science project.
And suddenly both of my half-brothers are a part of my world.
“Welcome,” Hunter tells me. “This feels unreal.”
I nod. “You could call it that.”
An insane chain of events led me to this. Hunter and Weston share half of my blood, but there’s a reason I’ve never met them until this moment.
A long time ago, our father cheated on their mother while she was pregnant with Weston.
I was the result of that cheating.
A surprise baby, about twenty years ago.
I was forced to live a life as a secret child. Unwanted. Dad gave my mother millions of dollars so that we’d never speak a word to Weston and Hunter or their mom, and I got a good share of that money, too. Mom and I were under a tight, binding contract:
Never come into contact with your half-brothers or their mother.
Never disclose that you even fucking exist, Niko, and you and your mother will continue to get a million dollars a year.
Our father sure knew how to keep a secret from his family.
Until he died last month.
And everything fucking blew up.
The contract was broken, and Hunter and Weston found out I exist.
“It’s the first time we’ve ever had a new member join halfway through the semester,” Weston’s explaining now, with a sparkle in his eyes. “We’ll have to get you up to speed on our traditions. We value honesty above everything in Onyx.”
Weston begged to get me into Crimson College, one of the most prestigious places in the country, just because he knows the college president and saw me as a charity case.