Authors: Charity Ferrell
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Coming of Age, #Romance, #Contemporary, #New Adult & College
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This book is fiction. Real events, people, places, or incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictionally. Any resemble to locales, actual events, persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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This book contains mature content, including graphic sex.
“Does that feel good, baby?” Cam asks, his words broken up by labored pants.
The moan slipping through my lips in response sounds phony, but Cam doesn’t catch on. Or he doesn’t care. He only grunts in approval while I lay here in boredom as his sweaty body slams into mine roughly. I shiver at the feel of his hot, wet lips grazing along my skin, curving up the arch of my neck, and his tongue stops to sliver in my ear lobe.
My body should be exploding with excitement. I should be pleading for my own orgasm, begging him for more. Instead, I’m wondering what genius invented the Internet and the books I still need to order before leaving in the fall.
Welcome to the mundane sex life of Addison Andrews.
I’ve been screwing my boyfriend, Cam, for over a year now. It’s boredom city each and every time. It’s monotonous. It’s routine. I have more enjoyment reading random Wikipedia pages. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t
sex, it’s that my boyfriend doesn’t put in any effort towards it. He sucks in the sack.
“Spread your legs wider, babe,” he croaks out.
I wiggle around on the couch, trying to find space to adjust myself, but his body is too heavy above me.
“Yeah, babe, spread those pretty little legs wider so he can get in that pussy,” a graveling voice calls out.
A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to my boyfriend.
A voice I’ve never heard before.
Cam stops. It’s like time has frozen. He looks down at me, wide-eyed, and in just as much shock as I’m in. We’re supposed to be home alone. No one can know I’m screwing my boyfriend on the regular because I’m supposed to be a virgin.
My heart starts beating wildly. I’m positive it’s about to give out. I slam my eyes shut as fear starts to coil in my stomach. I struggle to breathe and jerk up in horror, terrified to know who I'm about to face. Pain courses through my skull and I cry out in pain when my forehead collides with Cam’s temple.
We look like a hot mess.
“Mother fucker!” He yells out, palming his forehead.
I cross my arms over my bare chest, pressing my elbows tight to my sides as I rise up and focus on the stranger standing across the room. He’s tall, definitely over six feet. A black duffel bag is casually thrown over his shoulder and his lips are pulled into an arrogant smirk, elation clear on his face.
“Oh no, you two lovebirds don’t quit on my account,” he says, waving his hand through the air. “Do continue. I’m headed over to my new bedroom and you can spread those legs so he can fuck you better, princess.”
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 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 know, 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.
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 this 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 why 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 seven 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 heard 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 old tattered concert tee from last year’s Coachella and ripped jeans.
My eyes move to Addison, who’s not keeping up with grace 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, annoyed. “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.
“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.
Melinda gives 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
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 then go somewhere else. Not in my home.”
I grin. “I’ll be sure not to corrupt my virginal stepsister.”