My Boyfriend's Brother Page 9

  So Gray and I have barely spoken since the disastrous wedding. And now that there’s only three months left to graduation, I’m not sure what’s going to happen next. I have no place to go. No job. No options. Really, Grayson Thorn is the only person I could lean on, even if our relationship isn’t close.

  But it’s hard to blame Mom for this situation because her life hasn’t exactly been moonlight and rainbows. Kathy was around my age when boom! Pregnancy struck. Needless to say, my dad wasn’t in the picture. So the poor thing was all on her own, forced to grow up real fast suddenly.

  And I guess that kind of explains it. I stole my mom’s teen years, and the minute it was possible, Kathy sought to reclaim her youth. The woman became a social butterfly to the max, dating like a whirlwind. At first, there were a string of lovers, a new guy every couple weeks. Let me tell you, the moans that came from her room were insane, especially to a shy virgin like myself.

  But things get old fast, and when Kathy met Gray, it seemed like a dream come true. First, he was ten times better than anyone else she dated. Tall, handsome, and a billionaire to boot. What someone like that saw in Kathy was beyond me, but I wasn’t going to complain.

  Second, Mr. Thorn gave her everything. Clothes, jewelry, and lavish vacations were all part of the picture. Of course, Kathy wasn’t above using him for his money.

  “Mona, I just hope you’ll be happy for me,” Mom purred, standing in front of her mirror, admiring that figure in a designer gown. Kathy has always been beautiful, and I had to admit that she looked stunning in the exquisite lace creation, the fabric molded just so to her voluptuous form. “Someday, I’m sure you’ll find a man who will buy you stuff like this,” she cooed, batting her eyelashes in the mirror.

  I’d doubted that. Even at sixteen, reality was already starkly clear. I’ve always been an ugly duckling: chubby, brunette, and far too shy to hold the interest of a real man. I’m nothing like my mother…and I have a feeling it’s always bothered her that we’re so different.

  Because whereas I’m frugal and serious, Kathy is fun and exciting, the girl invited to every party. And Gray’s money just enabled her. Sure enough, within two months of meeting her new beau, Mom developed an obsession with plastic surgery. At first, it was just small things. A nip here, a tuck there, nothing too obvious. But things escalated real fast. Her nose job was botched, calling for revision surgery. And then the revision surgery went off the rails, and a specialist had to be brought in to re-sculpt her entire face.

  Did any of this get her down? No. Kathy was airy about the whole thing, proclaiming that she’d come out as beautiful as Angelina Jolie. And the thing is that my mom really is gorgeous, even if her face seems a little frozen. So long as you squint, the woman does look like a twenty five year-old bouncy blonde, albeit with uber-sculpted cheekbones that could never exist in real life.

  But Kathy is Kathy, and she doesn’t know a good thing even if it smacks her in the face. Because a week after the wedding, the crazy woman disappeared. Can you believe it? Not many ladies get a shot at permanence with someone like Grayson Thorn. After all, the man is power and charisma come to life. Tall, dark, dominating, plus the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Why would she run off on someone like that?

  Unfortunately, there are no easy answers. I’ve been wondering myself for two years, and still, nothing makes sense. But that’s the way the cookie crumbles, and it’s better to move on and make the best out of my life. Maybe I don’t belong at Waverly Mansion, but at least no one’s kicked me out yet.

  Because it took a while to warm up. With my mom gone, I wasn’t sure of my place anymore. What would Gray say? Would he ask me to leave? Where would I go? But after a couple weeks of not seeing him, I gave up. The man had to be devastated with his new wife leaving him in the dirt so soon after their nuptials. So I carried on as usual, tiptoeing from room to room, obediently going to school like a good girl.

  And maybe six months after the wedding, my stepdad finally reappeared. One night I came down at 3 a.m. to drink some milk. Shockingly, Gray was in the kitchen, tall and ominous in a perfectly cut black suit.

  “Um hi,” I stammered, flushing like crazy. My nightie was nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, almost see through with age. It was embarrassing, the short hem indecent.

  But I hadn’t expected to see anyone at this time, so the vision of this massive male looming before the refrigerator took me by surprise. Where had he been? What was he going to say? Should I start packing my bags?

  But Gray remained mum. Instead, he shot me an ominous look from under lowered brows before spinning on his heel and disappearing up the stairs. My lungs immediately filled with air, like I’d unwittingly been holding my breath. Oh god. Gray was here. He was back. Mentally, I prepared myself for the worst.

  But that’s the thing. I didn’t see him again for another six months. Waverly Mansion was empty except for me and the help, and when I did see my stepdad, it was fleeting. Just a glimpse here or there, or the sound of footsteps late at night. The CEO was probably working himself to the bone to take his mind off his marital disaster.

  And now, after two years, I finally feel kind of normal at Waverly. Gray is nothing but a ghost most of the time. So I’ve slowly adapted to my new existence, although the lavish lifestyle is definitely over the top. After all, who really needs a butler, a housekeeper, a slew of maids, a chef, a sous-chef, and god knows how many gardeners? I’m here on my own mostly, just one person. The marble sinks, crystal chandeliers, and golden fixtures are wonderful, but totally unnecessary. As a girl with working class roots, any small, humble place to call my own would be fine.

  So yeah, I stared at myself in the mirror with wonder. It’s weird sometimes. A princess should be living here, but I’m just plain old me. Unruly brown curls. Big brown eyes. And curves that go on for days. With my palm pressed against my belly, I take a deep breath in, turning to the side to see my silhouette before exhaling and watching my curves reappear. Yep. I’m a big girl from every angle. Holding my breath does nothing.

  Even worse, I’m a virgin without any prospects. Sure, there are the boys at school who gawk at my body, but they’re disgusting. Fifteen year-old perverts all, looking at stroke mags with sticky, crusted pages. No one like my stepdad, not even close.

  And that’s the worst part. Because nothing turns me on more than thinking of Gray. There, I said it. It’s so wrong – he’s my stepfather after all. Plus, he’s probably still heartbroken over my mom. In the years since she left, he’s never dated, as far as I know. The man probably just works like a machine, minting money 24/7.

  But lately, the alpha’s been around more often. Working in his office. Eating a meal at the dining table when I tiptoe by. His voice in the distance, ordering some lackey to do this or that.

  And speaking of which, that low, sensual growl is tickling my ear right now. He must be at home, talking to someone on the phone. Maybe ordering Consuela to shine his shoes? I have no idea. Butterflies begin fluttering in my stomach as I creep closer to the sound, like a moth drawn to flame.

  It shouldn’t be this way. He’s my stepfather for crying out loud. But recently, I’ve been having sexual urges I can’t explain or control – daydreams that are both embarrassing and inappropriate, making me flush wildly when I open my eyes. And confiding in Lydia, my best friend, just makes it worse. She blows my concerns off, saying that it’s normal. It’s part of growing up, is her breezy reply, the whole adolescent hormonal thing.

  But what Lydia doesn’t know is that my fantasies are about my stepdad.

  Yeah, these dirty fantasies are about Grayson Thorn doing the most disgusting, raunchy things to my body. Images of the billionaire keep me up at night, boobies heaving and little cunt moist. I dream of the alpha, envisioning those penetrating blue eyes and massive build making me his woman.

  What?

  I’m his stepdaughter, not his woman!

  Wait, am I still his stepdaughter if my mom’s not in the picture an
ymore?

  Suddenly, the reverie ends, a low growl breaking into my trance.

  “Don’t even start,” comes that harsh rasp. “I’ll crush you if you try.”

  Who is Gray speaking with? A competitor? An underling? All I know is that I’d be intimidated to hear that bark on the other end of the line. My heart leaps into my throat listening to Gray’s powerful, angry tone.

  And slowly, I slip around the corner to peek into his office. Oh god, my stepdad is gorgeous. After a long day, he’s stripped down to a fitted white button-down shirt tucked into dark tailored trousers. Of course, the formal clothes can’t hide his perfect musculature, the powerful arms and long legs that seem to go on forever. I press my thighs together tightly, a thrill running through my pussy.

  Stop! Comes the small voice in my brain. Stop thinking about your stepdad like this, it warns. Nothing good will happen.

  But I can’t help it, and continue listening even as my curvy body heats in anticipation. Of course, Gray is completely oblivious to my presence, too caught up in his phone call.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he snarls into the receiver, “Otherwise I’m gonna grind your ass into the dirt, motherfucker.”

  And the words are so commanding and alpha that a soft gasp escapes my throat.

  But then that handsome face jerks around, blue eyes like lasers.

  Oh no!

  He knows I’m here!

  I’ve given myself away.

  But it’s bright in the office, and dark in the hallway.

  Stay still, warns the voice in my mind. Don’t breathe. Stay calm, he can’t see you.

  Trembling like a mouse, I will my limbs to remain motionless. My thighs quiver, the air evaporating from my lungs, but otherwise there’s no movement.

  And it seems to work. Gray continues talking all the while punching at something on his computer. Those bright blue eyes are distracted, staring at something on the screen even as another growl erupts from his throat.

  Good.

  He’s busy.

  I’m safe.

  I should go back to my room now. I should make my escape like a good little girl.

  But something takes hold within.

  Because I’m mesmerized by the man. My stepdad, for better or worse, is everything an alpha should be. Powerful. Dominating. Ruthless. And unbidden, my fingertips gently trail over my bare thighs. Oh god. I’m dressed in a nightie again, the thin slip barely covering my curves.

  What would it be like with a man like Gray?

  Thrilling.

  Sensual.

  Mind-blowingly intense.

  But my conscience speaks then.

  You’re no match for him, it says scornfully. You’re an eighteen year old nobody who’s accomplished zero in the world. Grayson Thorn is a powerful businessman, at the top of his game. You think he’d be interested in you?

  And shamefully, my face flushes. Because yes, that’s what I’ve been fantasizing about. My stepdad. Me. The two of us, our bodies entwined, the man owning my nubile female form.

  But it’s wrong.

  All these thoughts are wrong.

  Can you go to jail for dreaming about the man of the house? But I can’t help it because right there, in the darkness, I turn and bend over slowly.

  Oh god, oh god! This is so dirty and perverted because I’m not wearing panties tonight. Slowly, the nightshirt slips up my thighs, higher, higher, higher. And soon, it’s at the base of my pussy, lifting slightly, going even higher until the wet pinkness is revealed.

  Because I want Grayson Thorn. Yes, it’s true. I want my stepdad. I want him to see how I’m pulsing for him, my insides gooey already. Slowly, two hands reach back, one on each ass cheek. And then the two moons part, revealing my inner channel.

  Oh god. I’m showing my stepdad the inside of my pussy, that delicate pink steamy and aroused, and it feels so good, naughty and tempting.

  But does he know?

  Probably not.

  Because that deep voice is still growling, hoarse and rough on the phone. Sure, the tones seem even angrier now, but that’s directed at someone else and not me.

  Disappointment swells in my chest. He doesn’t know. He can’t tell.

  But it’s okay. It’s better this way.

  And slowly, my hands drop to my sides once more, torso straightening. Because what was I thinking? Baring my pussy to my stepdad in the darkness of the hallway? I’m Mona the shy mouse, not Mona the super slut.

  And slowly, sanity returns. Quietly, I pad down the hallway in silence, socks slippery on the parquet floor. My reflection stares back at me from a decorative mirror in the hallway.

  See? The voice in my head scoffs. Gray would never be interested in you.

  Because what was I thinking? My brown curls are tangled, a bird’s nest perched on my head. Plus, I’m curvy with a lot to spare. Big Double Ds. An ass that puts Kim Kardashian to shame.

  By contrast, Gray likes women like my mom, slender and tall. He’d probably be disgusted by my poochy belly and thick thighs.

  Oh god, what came over me? Why did I just do that? Shame fills my chest, hot and heavy. Gray is so handsome, and I’m nowhere near good enough for him. It’s probably best he didn’t see me, because he’d be disgusted by my body.

  Shaking my head, I make my way back to the safety of my bedroom. What’s gotten into me? How could I think my stepdad would be interested? They were the fantasies of a misguided teen girl, one who’s never really known a man. Not to mention these thoughts are probably criminal and could land me in jail.

  Could I go to prison?

  Could they put me in the slammer for wanting my stepdad?

  But once under the covers, my cheeks flush hot. Because I wasn’t supposed to, but I did. And it felt unbelievably good, a thrill in the pit of my stomach. My pussy throbs, pulsing under the covers, and a secret smile crosses my face. Grayson, the voice in my head chants. Grayson, Grayson, Grayson …

  And gradually, sleep claims me, images of the handsome billionaire dancing in my mind.

  * * *

  To be continued …

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  About the Author

  Cassandra Dee is a bestselling author of dozens of hot and steamy contemporary romances. She started out writing erotica but transitioned to romance after falling for one too many book boyfriends.

  When she’s not tapping away furiously at her laptop, Cassandra can be found drinking gallons of coffee and watching lots of reality TV. She also enjoys taking the neighbor’s dog for walks, aimlessly wandering the local grocery store, and of course, reading too much about the lives of her favorite celebrities.

  Cassandra is living her own HEA with her husband and a beautiful baby boy.

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