Page 9 of Jealous Stepbrother

I rub the wetness between my thighs. “I’m your g-good g-girl, Callum.”

He takes his hand off my neck, and I grunt in disapproval, but it turns into a moan when he lifts my hips and enters me from behind. Warm tendrils grow inside me as he presses his thick girth into me, and my walls sheath him.

My skin is peppered with goosebumps as sparks zip through my belly with every thrust. He grazes his mouth along my bare shoulder, but that’s as far as his gentleness goes, especially after I grab his hand and wrap it back around my neck.

Callum pulls me to him and whispers, “You like this?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Two words I never thought could turn me on as much as they did. He claims me with his big, jutting length, and I’m all too happy to give as much as I’m getting, standing on my toes and grinding my ass against his hips.

His free hand grips my hair and yanks my head back. I can feel myself heading closer to the end when he licks the outer shell of my ear. And when he lets go of my hair to reach over and touch my clit, I lose it.

My nipples turn to little peaks as I flutter around him, orgasm crashing into me. A few seconds later, Callum curses under his breath and bites my shoulder lightly. He sinks himself deep into me one more time before I feel a trickle of something warm on my inner thighs.

I collapse against the wall, and he pretends to collapse against me. “My God, Caroline. You weren’t kidding when you promised you’d be my best fuck.”

I’m still dazed, but I catch myself feeling something more than post-orgasm bliss. I’m … happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. All because of this guy who has claimed me as his.

5

CALLUM

The second party—God knows how many they plan on hosting to accommodate all their wealthy, powerful, and influential friends—is in full swing when we arrive. The hum of polite laughter filling the gilded banquet hall grates my nerves. I hate being here, but, like Caroline, I don’t have much choice.

After her divorce from my father, he left Mother in charge of MY money as if I was thirteen while he gallivanted all around Europe and Asia. I could get my hands on the trust fund my grandmother left me, but only after I reached twenty-five. Four more fucking years. Parents of the year, let me tell you.

The air smells like expensive perfume and food, mingling with the faint tang of wealth and hypocrisy. My mom’s people, I should say, and based on what Caroline has told me so far, she and her new husband are a match made in social climbing heaven.

Before, my life goal was to be like Dad, to fuck my way all over two continents and never settle. But that was before I met Caroline. I woke up the next morning after the club, knowing I would never be the same. I caught fire and, in the space of a few seconds, was engulfed in it.

Even now, I can’t take my eyes off her. With her beauty and the energy she radiates, I am helpless. All I can do is stare and stare and stare.

And as she walks beside me, her head held high, her cheeks flushed from fucking, her face glowing, I feel like I conquered something … or someone. The thought that she’s mine, all mine, makes my chest constrict in a funny way.

It has never happened before. Me being this possessive. Like I want to fly her away to a castle on a deserted island so no one else can see her beauty but me.

I sweep my gaze around the room and find our parents holding court by the stage. From the outside, they look like the perfect couple—good stature, plenty of zeroes in their bank accounts, a massive house, a yacht, and Mom’s trunk full of jewelry.

Caroline and I know better, though.

This is all for show. They’re the type of people who will smile, laugh, and be good-natured in public, but behind closed doors, they’ll ignore each other. After all, what’s the point of pretending when there’s no audience?

“Are we supposed to pretend to be one big happy family?” she whispers to me, clutching my arm and setting me on fire with a simple, innocent touch.

I squeeze her small hand, not missing the way she tries to suppress a shudder. The way the energy flows between us both ways will always be amusing. She’s just as lost in me as I am in her, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Mom’s an expert at that. I always thought she missed her calling as an actress.”

“Same with Dad because validation is the only thing that matters. He would throw his own child under the bus if it meant he could keep his money and status.”

I chuckle at that as Caroline clears her throat. I scan the area and spot the bar, all the seats filled, the two bartenders mixing drinks nonstop. “I’ll go get you a drink.”

She nods. “Non-alcoholic, please.”

“Aye, aye, madame.” I give her a two-finger salute, and she playfully shoves me back.

I weave my way through the crowd, nodding and smiling at people whose faces barely register with me. As I reach the bar, I hold up two fingers and order a Shirley Temple and a mojito mocktail. This is not the kind of party where we can get drunk and let loose. If anything, it’s one we have to tolerate and drag ourselves through.

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