Bad For You: (An Older Brother's Best Friend Romance) (20 page)

“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
enjoy
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 whom 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 is clear on his face.

“Oh no, you two
lovebirds don’t quit on my account,” the stranger 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 then
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 knew,
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 that 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 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
eight 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 hear 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 an old tattered concert tee from last year’s
Coachella, and ripped jeans.

My eyes move to
Addison, who’s not keeping up with grace either 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, with annoyance. “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
of them.

“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.

I look back at
Melinda. She’s giving 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
everybody?”
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, go somewhere else. Not in my home.”

I grin. “I’ll be sure not to corrupt my virginal
stepsister.”