Page 8 of Jealous Stepbrother

I cross my arms in front of me and hold them up. It’s something I’ve learned from other creators, which makes it easier to cut certain parts without needing to scrap the whole video.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss at him.

He lifts those broad shoulders and gives me that trademark Callum smile—smug, confident, sexy, and playful all in one package. “Thought I’d stop by for a visit. You weren’t there at breakfast.”

“Because I try to avoid spending time with Dad as much as I can.”

“Yeah, well, he sent me to you so I can take you to the country club.”

“I don’t want to go. He said I only needed to be at the wedding ceremony and reception. He never said anything about the country club.”

“It was a last-minute thing. One of Mom’s politician friends couldn’t make it yesterday but is in town today, so they’re throwing him an after-wedding party or, as I like to call it, an expensive excuse to show off how rich they are.” Callum looks over the vanity table before me and lifts a tube. “What’s this? It’s too thick for lipstick.”

I groan and try to take it from him, but he steps out of my reach. “That’s my contour stick. Now will you please leave? I need to finish this video.”

Of course, he doesn’t listen. He’s already popping the cap and twisting it all the way up, making me gasp and panic. “This shade is perfect for you.”

I grab it, twist it back down, and put the cap on. “What the hell do you know about shades?”

There’s that smug look on his face again. “Enough to know that you don’t need any of these to stop me in my tracks.” He sits on his haunches, so we’re at eye level. “Don’t worry, baby. If you like makeup, then I like it too, even though I prefer you bare-faced.”

In twenty-four hours, I learned one very important lesson. My body has a mind of its own, and it has a habit of betraying me where Callum’s concerned. Or maybe I like his effect on me. I haven’t decided yet.

Callum’s nearness, the way his eyes run from my face to the column of my throat and at the cleavage peeking from my sleeveless top, how he drags his tongue along his bottom lip because he likes what he sees.

My hands clench into fists on my lap as his gaze travels and settles on my pussy, barely covered with tiny shorts. Despite myself, I cinch my thighs together, feeling the heat pool in my apex. The tension between us is so thick I can slice it with a butter knife.

“Callum, you’re distracting me.” I barely get the words out as I try to suck in as much oxygen as I can into my lungs.

“I’m not doing anything.” He looks back up at me, his eyes dark with need. “You want me to leave?”

Before I register my response, my mouth speaks. “No.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He moves to kiss me, but I put a hand on his chest. “The camera’s still on!”

“Leave it. I want you to record me fucking you.” He glances at the camera quickly and does a double take. “And make sure you leave it at 30 FPS. Wait, is that a Canon 6D Mark II?”

The question throws me, and I scrunch my forehead. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“I like cameras. I have a couple at home. How much did you get it for?”

“It’s used, and I got it for $800.”

Callum looks impressed. “Not bad.” Then his face darkens again. “Now, where were we? Ah yes. Film us fucking.”

I should say no and turn off the camera. I should cover it with cloth in case it accidentally records us.

But why does thinking about a sex video of us turn me on so much? When did I become this woman who wants to get fucked in a club and films herself having sex with her stepbrother?

It’s wrong, so freaking wrong.

And yet…

We collide against each other, the chair toppling behind me. We become a tangle of limbs as we shed our clothes, and I clumsily fumble with the belt of Callum’s pants. I don’t know how long it is—it felt like forever—before we’re both naked, breathing hard, and in front of the camera.

He turns me around to face the wall as he winds my hair around his knuckle and wraps his other hand around my neck. Oh my God. “Tell me you’re my good girl, Caroline.”

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