Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“My family values are nonexistent,” I told her, and she put my hand on her ass right there in the elevator while giggling.
The wedding was boring, as all weddings are. I found a corner and drank expensive champagne while the happy couple did their awkward shuffle called a first dance. Cassie was a good date—she knew when to shut up and when to laugh. Her talent is that she can make anyone in the room want her, but she only looks at me, like I’m the one giving her life meaning. I know it’s an act, and that’s what makes it fun.
Not only that, but she wanted to fuck in some random room. “I need it,” she’d whispered as the happy couple danced. “My pussy’s so hungry, Nate.” I gave her what she wanted, bent her over and got her so loud I thought the books were going to fall from their shelves. Afterward, she fixed her lipstick without breaking eye contact and then wiped my come off the back of her thigh with a saucy giggle.
Later, in the car, she asked me if I liked being the villain. I told her I didn’t give a shit about what people thought. That was only partly true. I fucking love being the villain. I love being the story people tell themselves to justify their own bad deeds.
But the truth is, Cassie’s nothing. She’s just the echo after the gunshot. What I can’t stop thinking about is the girl in the pink dress.
Kayleigh.
Kayleigh is Victoria’s daughter, aka my new stepsister, if you’re one of those people who thinks “step” means something. When our parents married two years ago, the girl was just a mouse in the background, a college student with a forehead full of acne and the confidence of a wet paper bag. Now, she’s twenty-one, grown into a woman, and there’s not a single part of her that isn’t weaponized. Soft, blonde, and curvy in a way that would have gotten her burned as a witch in colonial times. She’s goddamned gorgeous but doesn’t even know it, and tonight she was everywhere.
I saw her before she saw me. She was standing by the open bar, swirling champagne, pretending not to look for anyone. Dressed in a pink outfit—dark, low at the neck, soft at the shoulders, showing off her big breasts and narrow waist. It fit her so well you knew she’d tried on a dozen before settling on this one. Her hair was up, but not exactly. I don’t know how to describe it. There were little blonde wisps falling out everywhere. She looked like the kind of girl a guy like me would ruin, just because I could.
She looked at me once. Just once. Her eyes found mine, and her lips parted, and I fell. I didn’t smile, but the world dropped away and it was just the two of us for a split second. Kayleigh looked away first.
Cassie noticed. “Who is that?” she asked, not even bothering to lower her voice.
“My sister,” I growled.
The ditz giggled.
“She doesn’t seem like your sister,” Cassie said in a coy tone, “She looks like she wants to climb you like a tree.” I grunted, but I felt the truth in it.
I keep turning it over in my head, the look Kayleigh gave me. It wasn’t attraction, not really. It was hunger, wrapped in lust, dipped in caution. She wanted to avoid me, but she couldn’t. She wanted me to avoid her, but I didn’t want to. Fuck that. I do what I want, and pussy is my thing.
But the night took an expected turn because Kayleigh saw me and Cassie later that night. I won’t lie. I was bored as fuck at the wedding, and decided to take my date’s offer on a quick fuck just for fun. So we headed into the hallway and found some random room where I started railing Cassie’s pussy like a man possessed. But Kayleigh found us. She was in the corridor, thinking herself invisible in the soft, bruised dark. I replay it like a filmstrip, every detail sharp as a blade: the slight gasp of discovery, the huge blue pools of her eyes, the moment her hand braced against the wall as if she needed to steady herself before watching what she knew she’d find.
To be honest, you can tell a lot about a woman by how she observes. Kayleigh is the kind who thinks she’s subtle, but her eyes are always two seconds ahead of her body. I remember exactly how she stood: shoulders tight, pink pout parted just enough to taste the air. The flush climbed her neck in slow motion, a red tide inching toward her cheekbones. She watched Cassie first—the cartoon tits, the pornographic hair, the way she braced herself against the wall. I saw Kayleigh’s pupils get huge, her slim throat ripple as she swallowed. Fuck, horny little stepsis couldn’t look away.