I knew she couldn’t be far when I saw Dad sizzling in the sun. But I wasn’t ready for this. She came out of the water like a Bond girl. Long, dark hair wet, water dripping everywhere, running off her tanned skin like pearls. My eyes are glued to her. Her tits are hot when she’s dressed, but wearing hardly anything, they’re just unreal. Immediately, I feel the desire to kiss, squeeze, bite them…

She’s making me insane with this visual! I can feel my dick getting hard, so I sit down quickly. The last thing I need is that showing.

My eyes wander across her stomach—soft, but no wobble, just feminine—and her legs—which are long and sexy. I look at her bikini bottoms and wonder what her pussy looks like. Does she have a Brazilian? A landing strip? I hope it’s no more than that. I don’t want any hair in my mouth when I lick her.

I can tell she’s insecure. I would be, too, being in the company of two guys who have already rallied against her and would use every ounce of fat as ammunition. She smiles insecurely. I glance at Carey. Weirdly, looking at her doesn’t seem to faze him at all. I know he can’t hide his feelings, but all I see in his face is annoyance.

“Hey, sweetie.” Dad smiles at her. I guess he really likes her. Which makes it all the more infuriating that she’s using him for his money.

A little dog barks at her, and she turns around. Fuck! Not only does she have a sexy ass—she also has the hottest tattoo I’ve ever seen. A delicate lace pattern of roses and thorns runs across the left side of her back. I wonder what it means. Because a tattoo like that definitely means something.

She kneels down, pats the little mutt, and laughs. The sound of her voice flows straight into my cock. I won’t be able to get up today. Every mother on this fucked-up beach would call the police if I got up and took my raging hard-on for a walk.

Mackenzie sits down next to Dad, and he strokes the back of her hand. I see another tattoo on her wrist. Some writing. I can’t read it. She bends down to her bag, allowing me a look at her impressive cleavage. I want that bikini-string around her neck to burst so bad…

She reaches for her watch and puts it on, hiding the tattoo. On purpose? Or coincidence?

“Since you’re all here now,” Dad says, “I need to tell you I have to go to New York for a few days. Tomorrow.”

I look at Carey and see an evil gleam in his eyes. When I turn to her, I see Mackenzie’s eyes have widened considerably. Obviously, she’s not stupid. She knows exactly what this means for her. I think I can smell a whiff of fear. Carey senses it, too. He leans forward, and I can see that, inside, he’s already scheming.

“I’ll be about four days,” Dad says. “No parties, Hunter. You’ll do whatever Mackenzie says. Do you hear me?” He gives us both a firm look until we nod. Fuck, like we’d ever do what she tells us. No, she can take orders from me, thank you very much, and the first will be: Kneel down and open your fucking mouth!

Briefly, I wonder if Dad makes her blow him, if he likes to fuck her mouth… Then I shake my head to chase away the image. I really don’t want to imagine my old man having sex. That’s just plain disgusting.

“Are you coming home with us?” Dad asks.

Carey looks at me. He always lets me decide. I shake my head. “We’re staying here.”

“Okay,” he says. “Be back at midnight. You can use my car while I’m in New York. When I get back, we should go buy you one.”

I grin. In Miami, I had a car, too. But I left it there. “What’s the budget?”

Dad shrugs. “Just let me know what you want.”

Carey laughs. “You should totally get a Hummer.”

I pull up an amused eyebrow. “Isn’t that the one you want?”

“It’s less than a year now,” he says, his fist shooting up into the air.

I hit mine against it, and he smiles. Nutcase.

“Hunter’s not the Hummer type,” Dad says.

“Really? What type am I then?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. Let’s see how well Dad knows me.

He gives me an amused look, like he thinks it’s obvious. “You want a German car.” He squints a little. “A BMW M3 or something like that.”

I nod slowly. Not bad, old man. I’m surprised. “Is that what you’re getting me?”

“Sure.” Money has never been a problem in our family. Dad’s pretty generous. We always get what we want, as long as we play by the rules—meaning no bad grades, no big trouble. Carey and I always thought it was fair.

The bitch has put on a T-shirt, so my cock has had a chance to calm down. Time to leave.

With Carey behind me, I walk back toward where our friends are hanging. Far, far away. We made a point of choosing a spot where Dad can’t see us.

I know women are always looking at me. All girls—even those in long-term relationships, or especially those—stare at me longingly. Not just girls my age, older women, too. But I’ve never felt like becoming some bored housewife’s boy toy. And, apart from that, there are enough girls my own age who’ll happily spread their legs for me. No need for cellulite and stretch marks. Mac, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. Then again, she would be my toy…

I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not an arrogant bastard. I swear. I just know my own value. And you should know yours, because then you won’t fall for a guy like me. Actually, scrap that…

As soon as we reach the others, Liza throws herself at me, hugging me and pressing her tits against me. “Hey, Hunter,” she whispers seductively.

I touch her butt, and she presses against me more firmly.

“Hey, Hunt,” Fisher calls over, “who’s that hot girl over there with your Dad?”

I shrug. “His current gold digger.”

Fisher laughs. He has one like that at home, too. “Does that make her your stepmother?”

Jensen grins. “Isn’t that the title of a hard-core porn? ‘Seduced by My Stepmother’?”

Fisher hands me a beer and clangs his bottle against mine. “Step-monster, more like.”

I shrug. “Can’t blame the old man. His current sex doll has huge tits. They can just shut your brain right down.” I’m not about to tell my friends those tits are currently shutting mine down, too. Anyway. It should be illegal to be that hot. I’m sure she’s just doing it to torture me…

Liza kisses my shoulder, stroking my upper body. I have my arm wrapped around her, my hand on her ass inside her bikini bottoms. I take a swig from my bottle.

“How can you think she’s hot?” Carey asks condescendingly. “She’s nothing but a gold-digging slut.”

“Simple,” Fisher says. “He has a pair of eyes in his head.”

“Looks and personality usually don’t go together,” Damian adds. “Remember Molly?”

They all nod. Molly was Damian’s neighbor. She was fat, with horn-rimmed glasses, not very pretty, but she was the nicest girl we’d ever met. “She was awesome,” I say.

Damian nods. “She was. I’d never fuck her, but that girl had a heart of gold.”

“Yeah, and with most bitches you fuck,” I say, “you’d rather not hear them talk. They’re just plain stupid. I swear, if I hear any more boring stories about their lame best friends…”

I know, I know. I’m holding exactly that kind of girl in my arms as I shoot my mouth off. But it just so happens to be true that hot, popular girls usually have crappy personalities. While girls like Molly are great. But teenage boys are way too superficial to even notice them. We all loved Molly, but none of us would ever have considered dating her. I’m not exactly proud to be a seventeen-year-old asshole like every other boy my age. But it is what it is. Blame it on the hormones. It’s only natural I want to mate with hot girls.

“Hunter,” Liza whines.

“What?” I ask, annoyed.

“Can we go?”

“I’m talking to my buddies here.”

She strokes my chest. “I could suck your dick.”

Okay, if a girl says that to you, you usually drop everything and ram it down her throat—deep. But women know. They know men are dominated by their dicks, and they’ll shamelessly use it against you. For example, right now, I bet you a thousand dollars Liza would not open her mouth if I took her somewhere else.

“You can suck me off later,” I say, loud enough for everybody to hear. She’s the clingy type. If you let her, she’ll start planning your wedding after the first date. Better to fence her in right away.

She blushes a little, while my buddies laugh.

I keep sipping my beer. If she did anything like that to me, I’d just leave her standing there. But her? No, she just snuggles up even closer. Hot women are so stupid. No man could arrive at a different conclusion after spending three minutes with one.

“Tomorrow night at our place,” I say to the group at large, and Carey grins. “Our old man’s going away for a few days.”

“What about his babe?” Jensen asks.

I shrug. “What about her? I guess it’s our way of telling her she doesn’t really have a say around here.”

“Yeah, man!” Carey calls out excitedly.

We spend the rest of the evening at the beach. Before we go home, I fuck Liza in her car in the parking lot. My friends aren’t that far away, but I don’t care. Thanks to the double standards of our society, this makes me a stud, even though it might make her a cheap slut. Why do girls agree to have sex with us anyway? I have no idea. But I guess it boils down to the same thing I mentioned before: stupidity.

* * *

The next morning, Dad’s already on his way to New York, and his toy is nowhere to be seen, when I wake up. I go for a run, then Carey and I go shopping for our party. Our cousin works at a liquor store, so we can get whatever we want. And we don’t intend to sell anybody short at this party.

Mac’s gone all day. Probably scared. Around eight, the first of our guests arrive, and we start partying. The girls are wearing tiny bits of cloth you can’t even really call “clothing.” And as soon as they get to the pool in the backyard, they peel off another layer. The water’s full of naked tits. Meanwhile, I run around the house, beer in hand, with Liza attached to the side of my body. At some point, I have to make it clear to her that we’re not a couple. I’m just fucking her, that’s it. But judging from the way she’s sinking her claws into me, she has a different take on it. Which sucks.

“Hey, Tilman!” Fisher calls.

I turn around. There’s a guy standing next to him who looks like a football player even from afar. I walk over to them.

“This is Devon Sawyer,” Fisher introduces us. He holds out his hand, and I shake it.

“Devon’s starting quarterback at school. I told him you’re a pretty decent wide receiver.”

Devon grins. “To be honest, he just gave me a sales pitch like he was your pimp.”

Fisher overplays his embarrassment and takes a swig from his bottle.

“As long as he told you I won’t sleep with just anyone, that’s fine by me,” I say, amused.

Devon laughs. “So you’re a whore that can afford to choose?”

“Definitely.”

We sit down in two chairs by the kitchen table and start chatting. He tells me about the problems with his team, and that, quite possibly, I could be the solution. Even though Fisher has totally understated my skills. I’m not just “pretty decent”—I’m a really awesome wide receiver. Again—I’m not arrogant. I just know my value.

“So are you coming to Westmore?” he asks.

I nod. “Probably. Makes sense. It’s closest. And we already know a few people there.”

“You’d be a great addition to our team if you’re as good as Fisher says.”

“I’m better,” I say seriously.

He nods slowly. “We’ll see. It’ll definitely be interesting.” He takes a drink of his beer. “Not that it’s any of my business, but what are you doing with Liza Donelli?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“Does she know that?” He nods in her direction, and I look. She’s screaming at another girl who has obviously had the audacity to look at me. Annoyed, I rub my neck. “She’s clingy, man,” he warns knowingly. “She’s hot, but she doesn’t get the idea of casual sex.”

“Are you talking from experience?” I ask.

He smirks. “No. That kind of thing isn’t for me. I’ve already found my girl.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Just one?”

He grins. “Just one. Mine.”

“And none of the others ever intrigue you?”

“Nope. When I saw her the first day of high school, I just fell for her head over heels. She’s the one.”

He sounds totally cool about it. Not like he’s a total eccentric among all these chronically horny teenagers who can’t wait to dunk their dicks in a new pussy.

“Isn’t it boring?” I ask honestly.

He shrugs. “Not for me.”

A pretty girl comes up behind him and puts her arms around him. He grins. “Speak of the devil.”

Playfully, she slaps his chest. “Don’t call me the devil.”

“What should I call you then?” he asks, stroking her arms.

“Angel,” she whispers, biting his earlobe.

He laughs. “Ava, this is Hunter Tilman. He and his brother just moved here.”

She lets go of him, steps in front of me, and holds out her hand. Standing, I grab it. I admit, I’m checking her out. She’s pretty. More like the girl-next-door type than sex bomb, but she has intelligent eyes and a warm smile. She’s definitely not a one-nighter.

“Hi, Hunter,” she says warmly.

Before I can say anything, Liza comes over and loops an arm around me. I give her an annoyed look. “Hunter,” she purrs.

“What?”

“You’re not giving me any attention,” she whines, “and now you’re talking to this boring bitch.”

Devon’s already standing to tell her off as I shake her arms off me. “Fuck off,” I tell her. “Don’t treat my friends like that.”

She gives me a submissive look that makes me even angrier. Devon sits back down and pulls Ava onto his lap.

“Sorry, Hunter,” Liza coos, stroking my arm. “Really.”

“I said fuck off. You and I, we’re just fuck buddies, that’s all.”

“But…” I see tears in her eyes, but I don’t care. Devon is cool, which means Ava is cool, too, so I won’t have a bitch like Liza insulting her.

I get in her face, my next words intended only for her. “I never wanted anything else from you. I’m not your boyfriend. You have no claim to me. It was just sex. And it wasn’t even that good.”

Did I say I never hurt women on purpose? Fuck. Okay, I’m an asshole, I’m not going to deny it, but it was time for her to stop dreaming. Especially since her dream is so utterly removed from what reality has in store for her.

“Hunter, please…” I can’t stand it when women start begging.

“Get out of here.”

“Please—”

“No. Fuck off!”

Suddenly, the gold digger is in the room. She looks around, an incredulous expression on her face.

Shit. Like we don’t have enough trouble already…

“What do you want?” I ask her, annoyed.

She swallows. For a second, I wonder if it’s a good idea to talk down to her in front of my friends. But my tolerance for stupid people has reached a new low.

“Your dad said no parties,” she says, her voice nearly a whisper.

I raise an eyebrow and shout, “I can’t hear you!”

It gets quiet. Somebody turned off the music. Because everybody wants to hear what’s going on. I guess it must be entertaining that I, this woman’s lover’s son, am about to tell her who’s the boss. And who definitely isn’t.

Her eyes wander over to Liza, who is still standing next to me, tears running down her face. Mac’s eyes darken for a moment before she directs an accusatory look at me.

“I don’t believe it,” she says, her voice no longer small and submissive. “Your dad trusts you. Is this you showing him you’re worthy of his trust?” She looks at Liza. “And this is how you treat girls? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I’m gravely disappointed!” She looks around the room. “This party is over.”

I don’t even respond, because her words got to me. I can’t deny it. I don’t want her to be disappointed in me… Which is completely ridiculous because I shouldn’t care what she thinks. Still, I don’t want her to think badly of me. My head is fucked up!

“You have nothing to say here, bitch!” Carey snaps from behind her. “Talk about respect! You’re spreading your legs for his money.”

Murmurs break out all around us. Mac looks shocked as she turns around. “I told you not to talk to me like that! I’ve let it slide until now, but it’s clear you’re nothing but two spoiled little kids!”

Carey mockingly raises an eyebrow. “Spoiled—”

“I’m talking right now, so you are going to shut your mouth!” she yells, and I swear little clouds of smoke are coming out her ears. “You may have no respect for me, and you may have no respect for women in general, but that has nothing to do with me or them. It’s all to do with you.” She looks back at me. “Is that the kind of man you want to be? A man who bullies the weak and helpless? A man who’s feared instead of admired? When are you going to stop? She’s crying, and you don’t even care! Is that the kind of person you want to be?”

The room has gone completely silent. Not even Carey opens his big mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see something moving on the stairs. I look over, and so does she. Jensen is walking upstairs with a girl who looks almost unconscious.

“And what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mac yells angrily. She runs over to the stairs and puts her arms around the girl.

“Hey, bitch, there’s plenty for everybody!” Jensen snaps. “I’ll take you next if you want.”

“You are not going upstairs with a nearly unconscious girl. That is called rape!”

He laughs. “No way. She wants it.”

“She is not in a state to decide what she does or doesn’t want!” Mac yells. “Get your hands off her.”

Suddenly angry, Jensen pushes her. She stumbles but doesn’t fall. “Don’t tell me what to do, you fucking cunt!”

Mac looks around incredulously. “Were you all going to stand there and watch this girl get raped? Nobody was going to do anything about it? What is wrong with you people?” She looks at Jensen and gets her phone out of her pocket. She points it at him and starts taking pictures.

“What are you doing, bitch?” he screams at her. He lets go of the girl, who drops onto the stairs, to take a threatening step toward Mac.

But she doesn’t budge. “Gathering evidence,” she says coldly. “You have two choices. Either you leave the house right now and never show your face here again, or I’m going to call the police.”

He raises his hand—and I’ve seen the punch he packs. It wakes me from my shock-induced paralysis. I dart over there, pull Mac back, and take the punch.

Shaking it off, I look around. Mac is giving me a surprised look, while Jensen looks shocked.

Then Mac snaps out of it and hurries over to help the girl up. She turns only to give me a cold look. “I’m taking her home. When I get back, I want everyone gone, and you two”—she points at Carey and me—“start cleaning up!” She looks at Jensen. “And you: get out of here or I will seriously call the police.”

Jensen is watching her with wide eyes, and I step between them. Even though I loathe her, I can’t let her get hurt.

Mac glances around. “If someone else wants a ride, let’s go. Now.”

She puts her arm around the girl’s shoulders and walks her to the front door. Two other girls run after them. Friends, I guess. The door slams shut.

We’re all stand there in shock.

Awkwardly, I rub my neck. Sure, I don’t treat women all that well, but I would never force myself on them. Though I realize I’ve never given much thought to friends disappearing into back rooms with semi-conscious girls, either.

“Are you going to let that cunt control you like that?” Jensen asks with a sneer.

I look at Carey, who nods. I can tell that he’s shocked, too. That he, like me, had pushed it into the recesses of his mind that having sex with a girl who’s no longer able to say no constitutes as rape. I see the same look on Fisher’s face. And Devon and Ava seem disappointed.

Shit.

I look at Jensen. “You heard her. You’re not welcome here anymore. And the party’s over.”

“What, so I’m the bad guy now?” Jensen screams. “I haven’t done anything different from any of you guys! You’ve all done this before!”

“Get out.”

“Come on, Hunter…” But the look on my face makes him shut up. He shakes his head. “Fuck you.”

As he slams the front door behind him, I wonder how a normal party could turn into such a nightmare. Carey gives me a questioning look, and I shrug and walk over to the kitchen to grab a trash bag. Slowly, our guests trickle out of the house. Thank God.

As I walk around gathering up bottles and plastic cups, I think about Mac. She’s never really opened her mouth before tonight. And at first, it seemed like she wasn’t going to say anything. But when she saw Liza’s tears, she suddenly got brave. So she can’t stand up for herself, but she can for others?

And the other girl… Mac hadn’t even cared about Jensen threatening her, she still put herself in his way to do the right thing. No doubt about it, it was the right thing to do. I’m embarrassed I didn’t interfere myself. That’s not how my parents raised me. And more than that—it’s not the kind of man I want to be. Since when am I not measuring up to my own standards? I run my hand across my face, frustrated. I’m not measuring up at all. Not in my behavior toward women, or my choice of friends.

When I look up, I see Carey, Fisher, Devon, and Ava tidying up. In a corner, Liza is sweeping up shards. She’s giving me a sad look, and I return it with a faint smile. I have a lot to make up for. Starting with her.