I can't believe how fucked I am. I hide it well, but I can't hide how out of focus I am at the briefing. Commander Jones calls me out twice for zoning out, asking me if I want to return to the states in a body bag.

Shit.

“No sir,” I tell him, all I can manage before he returns to the intel images on the big board, using a laser pointer to identify the North Korean missile sites.

I force myself to pay attention while my fellow SEALs snicker. On the way out, Brandon slaps me on the shoulder, and takes up a spot next to me in the gym for our workout.

“You're always sharp as a tack, Cleveland. What the fuck's going on? Your ma get into the junk again?”

I shake my head, adjusting the machine I'm about to give my pecs and shoulders hell on. He's one of the only guys I've told about the demon in my family tree.

“Oh, shit.” Brandon pauses, grins at me from his leg press. “It's pussy then, isn't it? You've started fucking some chick more than one night. Jesus, you should've let me know sooner. I'd have told the commander we've got a damned double-agent in our midst.”

I give him the middle finger once I've got my arms in place. He laughs it off, and I'm quietly stewing because he's right.

I keep telling Delia the same damned thing I've been telling myself – it's just a summer fuck. An extended version of what we started in Vegas, yeah, but it doesn't mean anything more than that. It can't.

I don't do love, and I'm sure as shit not dating my own goddamned stepsister. It sounds insane every time I put it together like that because it is.

Too bad my dick decided a long time ago it isn't listening to a lick of reason. I workout for more than an hour, stressing every muscle in my body to failure, and I still can't get her out of my head.

I haven't even followed up on the family shit with mom yet because it's only going to make things worse. I'm too busy thinking about all the times Delia's hot, tight cunt sucked the come from my balls, how bad I want to feel her do it over and over and over again.

That's when I realize Evie's not the only one in this family hooked on some bad shit. Hers is heroine, or whatever the fuck she's got herself on now.

Sex is mine, especially when it's causing me to think too much about a chick when I ought to be thinking about how to survive the most dangerous mission of my life.

I know what I need to do. I need to quit her like a bad habit before the boys in DC send us over the DMZ. If I'm still thinking about her pussy when there are bullets blowing by my ears, I'll probably be coming home in a thin black sac, just like the commander said.

What'll little sister think then after we've been fucking half the summer? I shake my head, stopping to wipe the sweat off my face with a towel. I'm the only bastard left, putting in overtime, trying to work out all the shit rattling around in my skull.

It's no good. I'm only going to hurt her worse by dragging this out, especially if something deadly happens overseas.

I'm used to people disappointing me. Evie's done it my whole life, and now I'm just numb to her shit. But I can't do that to Delia when I've already got my hooks in too deep.

I'm going to break it off the second I get a whiff of us heading off to war on the fastest transport across the Pacific.

You'll do it, I promise myself, quick and clean so she doesn't get fucked up. I'm serious about it, and determined as all hell.

But before I do, I'm going to get in one last fuck.

* * *

It's a warm evening by the time I leave base. I head for the mansion, expecting to find Delia out by the pool, where she always sits and reflects.

I've never seen her swim. All I can think about is dragging her into the cool, turquoise waters and getting my lips all over her body, drowning in so much ecstasy I blow her brains out. Make her forget what we've got, or at least settle for this summer fucking without any strings.

There's somebody else out there instead. Mom looks up at me when I step outside, turning her head. She looks like hell, laid out in the evening sun, her pale body wrapped in what looks like several layers of towels.

She's got a drink in her hand too. Just fucking great, when I know she's under orders to detox. All she needs is a cabana boy in a speedo, and her evil queen act will be complete.

“Christopher!” I simmer when I hear her say my name, watch her beckon me forward. She points to the big chair next to her.

I keep standing. “Are you feeling any better, or what?”

“Yeah, Bruce has been amazing through this whole thing. He's made friends with some very good doctors too. I'll be just fine, son. Thanks so much for your calls of concern while I was trying not to choke on my own vomit.”

I snort. There's the bitch I know. Her smile disappears into the long pull of green margarita against her lips. She slams the glass down when she's done, glaring at me like I just put my hand in the pool and threw it in her face.

“I kept you breathing, ma. That's all I'm obligated for. You're the only one who can fix your life.”

“Stop passing judgment,” she snaps. “I didn't ask for this. I asked for your comfort, Mister SEAL. A few kinds words or a hug would be really nice.”

“Oh, please. Haven't you gotten plenty of that from Bruce? Looks like all the money in the world can't buy a doc who gets you off the sauce.” I motion to her empty glass.

She smirks, sloppy and angry all at once, telling me she's already pretty wasted. She rears up in the chair and has to pull the towel tight to keep it from slipping.

I twist my head away. Fuck that shit. The last thing I need is a look at her overbuilt boobs, the only investment she ever dumped money into over the years.

“What? Nothing there you want to see, kiddo? Hm?” She snaps her fingers, forcing me to look at her again. “Oh, that's right, I'm too old for you. Too blood related. You'd rather fuck your little sister instead and tear this family apart, piece by piece, wouldn't you?”

I'm stunned, but I shouldn't be. I've put up with these vicious tirades my entire fucking life, and I learned a long time ago the only defense is to turn around, leave her to stew, and walk the hell away.

She picks up her glass, twisting it on one hand, contemplative the way I imagine a foreign interrogator being during torture.

“I don't know what the fuck you think's going on. You're flat out wrong, mother,” I say, trying not to let the growl overtake my voice. “I didn't come out here to listen to your shit. Why don't you go crawl back inside and dry yourself out? Or are you out here because you finally feel a shred of guilt over making that poor sap fight your demons?”

She smiles, sweet and poisonous as a jungle snake. This time, she throws the glass so hard it shatters. I don't even flinch, despite several shards landing at my boots.

I watch her hand jerk back, and she studies the fresh cut she's given herself. It's one more wound that's so small in the grand scheme of her fucked up situation she probably can't feel it.

“You think Bruce is the one playing hero here? Really?”

I need to turn and walk the fuck away – before she says anything else about Delia. It's a perfect time. She's lazy, drunk, and now her only weapon is gone. But part of me wonders if she'll throw herself into the pool the instant I step out, yet another attempt at drowning herself, jumpstarting the drama all over again.

“I don't think anything about this shit, mom, because I'm done.”

The latest overdose was her fifth stab at suicide in about as many years, and it worked better than anything else. The crazy bitch really almost offed herself, unlike all the other times, when she stopped short of putting herself in the danger zone. Just close enough to get her fill of sympathy.

“Go ahead and run back to base, soldier boy,” she chimes. “Jesus, you really don't have any balls, do you? I gave you tough love, Christopher, tough fucking love. Now look at you – just look! Living like a robot, loving like one too. No family. No friends. No father. The only one in this house you're on intimate terms with is that brown eyed bitch you're sticking your dick in, and that's because she's just as screwed up as you are. I'm all you've got, son, and the sooner you realize that, the –”

Fucking shit. I tune her out.

If she weren't so goddamned crazy, anybody but my own flesh and blood, I'd have picked her up and thrown her in the pool about ten words in.

My skin feels like it's going to melt. She's kryptonite, my Achilles' heel, my own personal demon, all rolled into one.

I've survived drills that left me sore for days. Bastards shooting at me, planting IEDs on the road, hearing my fellow SEALs scream as they're cut to pieces. And I still don't know what the fuck to do with the bitter psycho in front of me, sucking in her cheeks like she's chewing on the world's most vile lemon.

I turn sharply like I'm on parade, and I'm about to go when she gets up. I can't resist looking over my fucking shoulder, even though everything in my skull is screaming not to.

Her eyes are tiny pinpricks, angry and red. Hot tears are falling down her cheeks, and she's shaking, holding the towel so tight against her throat it looks like she's going to choke.

“You're really just walking away? You can't even argue back anymore? Are we that far gone, Chris? I'm your own fucking mother!”

“I know what you are, Evie,” I say, channeling my rage into the fists hanging at my sides. “I know what you do to people, and how you're a thousand times more fucked up than I'll ever be. I know I'm done, and I won't be around for the fallout. Not anymore. Not ever. Save your shit for Bruce, as long as he's willing to put up with it, which won't be long.”

“No, no, no...” I hear her whispering it behind me as I start to walk away.

I'm about halfway back to the house when she runs toward me. She's barefoot, so I don't hear her until it's too late. She tackles me, wraps her hands around my throat, tries to throw me on the ground the way she used to when I was twelve years old, before I bulked up and became a man.

I threw her off easily, slamming her into the pavement. It's a strange irony to see how things have changed over the years. She's lucky she's got that towel to cushion her blow. The last thing the bitch needs is a cracked hip, but it's her own damned fault.

“You ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything. Food, shelter, drove you into your career, that stupid fucking job that takes up everything, sucks the life out of you.” She's given up fighting, and her fingers are in her eyes, digging in as she rattles off all her insane bad son litanies.

“It's not a job, mother,” I say coldly. “I'm serving this country, protecting communities here at home and overseas. It's duty. I feel sorry for you some days because you'll never grasp those concepts. You're too far gone, and so's this whole goddamned situation with your sugar daddy.”

Her hands drop, and she shoots me the most hateful look I've ever seen in my life.

“Go. Walk out. You're a disgrace, Christopher, and I won't let you ruin this. Bruce is all I need. He's going to take care of me forever. He understands what love is, something you'll never know after all this SEAL crap shut down your emotions. They tore out your heart, son, and there's no getting it back.”

The shit coming out of her mouth is just total psycho babble now. I turn and keep going, even when she starts screaming gibberish at me, trying to get one last rise.

“No, come back! You don't get to walk out. I'll have you thrown out if you don't fucking listen to me. We'll see how much of a fight you put up when five deputies are hauling you off!”

I roll my eyes. It's the same thing she used to threaten me with when I rebelled in my teens. It scared me then. Dad left me with a healthy fear of the cops. Then one day when I was sixteen, she cracked and did it, called the police when I refused to get in the car with her and her drunken beach bum boyfriend to go to the beach.

The officers showed up and nearly hauled her away instead. It's tempting to remind her. If I thought there was any tiny spark left inside her, some mirror that would show her how fucking nuts she is, I'd hold it up in a heartbeat.

But there isn't. My mother's been fading for years, and now she's gone completely dark, plunged into a pitch black pool of pain, regret, insanity.

I know what's coming next, and I stop at the door with my hand on it for a second, ready for the explosion.

“You stupid piece of shit! I'll cut your dick off before I let you stick it in Bruce's little slut again! You're not going to use that girl and toss her away like one of your soggy condoms. You've chosen to be a total robot, fine. Go right ahead, SEAL. You can ruin your life, but you won't wreck mine. If you think I'm going to sit here like an idiot while you're screwing her, right under our noses, I swear to Christ I'll –“

I step through the door and slam it tight behind me. The seal chokes off her threat. I don't need to fucking hear it, because I already know what she's going to do. I walk toward the main entrance, stopping along the way to flag one of the house staff. I tell the maid to keep an eye on Evie to make sure she doesn't do something stupid in the pool, or maybe with one of those thick glass pieces laying on the deck.

Sooner or later, she'll tell Bruce what's going on. Maybe he'll man up and punch me in the face like he should.

I stop near the big sprawling staircases and run a hand over my face. My heart's pounding, throttled like a hot engine.

Delia won't leave my brain. All I want to do is run upstairs and fuck her brains out, slam my dick into her perfect pussy over and over and over, spill my seed inside her 'til I'm too exhausted to think, to hate.

Robot. I hear Evie calling me that again, and I snort. It's insane, but if there weren't a little shred of truth, it wouldn't bother me like this.

My mother always has an uncanny way with tapping into my fears, and right now, I'm scared shitless. If I go upstairs and get naked with the hot, brown eyed beauty again, it's only going to be harder to pull away later.

I'm going to break her heart, and rip out my own in the process, hurl the whole mess at my feet. I ought to turn away and walk the hell out of this house forever, just like I keep intending, leaving this shit behind.

It's toxic. It's wrong. Everything, everything, including her.

But I can already feel Delia's taste on my lips. My dick's hammering so hard in my pants I think I'm going to pass out.

Mom's right in her own sadistic way about me being fucked, but she doesn't have a clue. The only way to keep myself sane is to move, march upstairs, haul the best thing that's ever happened to me into that big Victorian bed, and slam my hips into hers 'til all we can focus on is remembering to breathe.

* * *

She looks like she's surprised to see me when her door opens. I grab her by the wrist and pull her tight, slamming her against the wall. My lips find hers, silencing all the questions she wants to ask.

What are you doing here?

What's going on?

Why?

She knows. Delia can feel the heat in my lips and the fire in my blood. My dick finds the soft space between her belly and pussy, and starts to grind, reliving our first sultry night on the beach.

I tear my lips away before I fuck her right here in the hall, in front of our parents and the staff. We head for my room and I kick the door shut, then walk her over to the end of the bed.

“Jesus, Chris. Why do you have to be so rough? Can't you just say hello?”

“We're past good manners, babe. Everything I wanna do to you is about as uncivil as it gets, and I'm not gonna hide it. Put your hands on the bed. Tonight'll be so good it hurts.”

“Hurts?” She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, shaking her head. “Haven't you done enough? I can't keep living these head games. This hot and cold, on-again off-again crap.”

Our last evening on the pool deck did more damage than I thought. Regret hits me in a sharp pang, and I almost apologize.

Too bad it's against everything in my nature, humbling myself in words. She'll find out how sorry I am, how deep I feel, when I'm balls deep, curling her toes. She'll understand I never meant to hurt her, never meant to blow us up, never meant to drag this out 'til it's become an addiction I can't give up.

Can't.

For a second, I reach for Delia's perfect face, cup it, and squeeze. My mouth finds hers and I lead her tongue in a whirlwind, pulling the air from her lungs, all the sweetness she has for me.

“Love isn't always easy, babe.” Her eyes light up when she hears the L-word. I don't give a shit, there's no more hiding it. “We're going through one fuck of a rough patch. There's only one way I know to work through it.”

“Sex can't fix everything,” she says, unsure and whiny, like it's the right thing to say but she doesn't believe it.

“You'd be surprised. We pissed each other off last night, and Evie screwed us royal before we could make up. Guess how much my dick gives a fuck?”

Hell, I'll show her.

I reach underneath her skirt, find her panties, and rip them straight down. She moans as the fabric snaps tight around her smooth calves, and I lift her feet one at a time to get them on the floor.

“You didn't answer me, Delia,” I growl, moving one hand to her breast while my fingers sink into her. She's even wetter than I thought, and my cock jerks when I feel how hot, how wet, how ready she is. “How much do you think my cock cares about all this emotional soap opera shit? Do you think any of it matters when I'm hard as a rock, and you're leaking all over my fingers?”

“I don't...I don't –“

Know? No, she fucking doesn't. And I'm not going to hear anymore bullshit that can't be said with our bodies.

I don't kiss and make up. I don't love. I don't get my head all screwed up by girls I'm not supposed to be nailing in the first place.

Except I realize I'm doing all those things. I crossed the damned Rubicon the first time I put my cock in her body, and now I can't stop, no matter how hard it is now, or how much it's going to ache like a motherfucker to kill this when summer ends.

I toy with her clit while she pants, breathless and thoughtless, pushing her full, bare ass into the ridge underneath my jeans. I should've fucked the urge to come every time our skin touches right out of my system by now, but it seems like it's getting worse every time we're rutting.

I don't understand it, and it's pissing me off. I take her to the edge with my fingers fucking fast, stroking her hot cunt while my thumb works her clit, poised to make her convulse any time I want.

“Let's fucking go,” I snarl, pulling my hands off her at once, dragging her by the hair a couple steps away. I take her hands, put them on the tall bedpost, and start to work off my belt.

It's everything I've been dreaming about since I first saw the bed. She gives me a small whimper of surprise when I drag her hands up above her head, getting her at the perfect angle, and lashing her to the post.

“What the hell? I didn't know you were this kinky.”

She sounds so excited I want to laugh. Instead, I shove my pants down once she's bound, grab her waist and pull her sweet ass against my cock.

“This isn't about playing with chains and blindfolds. I do whatever feels natural, babe, and right now that's making sure you can't go anywhere 'til I'm done fucking you. You don't want to hear what's coming out of my mouth lately, so I'll let my cock do the talking instead. This time, you'll listen.”

And she does as I sink inside her. The girl's voice cracks in this sexy, overwhelmed way that nearly causes me to lose my load right there.

Thank fuck for all the discipline I've built up over the years.

I slide my hands underneath her top and feel her tits. I pinch both her nipples so hard she gasps, and it's all the signal I need to swing my hips, digging deeper, claiming what's mine.

We're fucking hard and fast, trying to find some balance. It's a desperate fuck, one so intense I can feel her heartbeat in the hot, wet flesh wrapped tight around my dick. It only makes me thrust harder, so deep I want to break her, smash us both into a thousand pieces.

A minute or two in, and she's coming. I have to power fuck my way through it not to explode with her. For the first time in my life, I wish I had a cock ring.

Her pussy pinches me tight, like she's got a second tongue down there sucking me off, teasing the come from my balls. I grab her by the throat, digging my fingers in, and tilt her face to mine. She gets her lips against mine mid-climax, and I taste her coming, snarling my lust back into her mouth.

“Don't. Fucking. Stop.” It's all I can thunder as I keep slamming into her, fucking straight through her release, hornier than ever for mine.

I have to throw my weight into her to hold her up. I've brought her to a new zenith. Her knees want to buckle, send her crashing to the ground before she hits her second wind.

I don't let that happen. I slow my strokes, fucking into her more tenderly, pushing my tongue in and out of her mouth, stroking both holes at once. Her lips and pussy belong to me.

Everything about being wrapped up with this woman feels so goddamned right.

She's blown my whole world apart, and it's not just her body. I want to destroy her, merge into her, hook my cock into her feminine heat twenty-four seven.

When I feel her heartbeat in every kiss, every moan, every slide of her sopping wet velvet over all ten inches of my dick, I know I'm gone.

The robot, as Evie called it, short circuited when I pulled Delia Burr into my life. All the BUD/S and psy-op training in the world can't undo whatever the fuck she's done to my brain. Feeling her doesn't stop at my dick.

She's found her way inside me somehow, and I can feel her there as I deepen my strokes, pulling one hand off her tit to stroke her clit instead. It warms her up all over again. I watch her forehead sink to the bedpost, fighting for leverage, completely swept away by the pleasure I'm giving her.

Normally, it'd be hot as fuck. Of course it is now, too, but I can't get over this other sticky, strange warm feeling I've got inside, causing my heart to thump like a rocket going into orbit.

“You feel it building in my balls yet?” I growl, twisting her hair in one hand, pouring fire in her ear. “It's all yours, babe. Every fucking drop. All you've got to do is beg.”

I pull her long dark locks and listen to her whine. It's the sound, that whiny note she makes when she's coming undone.

Fuck. My strokes quicken, instinctively meeting hers.

We're bucking faster. Harder. Desperation growing. She moans again, trying to form words, sticky need oozing out her lips.

That's when I start to get pissed.

I can't believe it, what's happening to me here, what she's done to me the whole damned time.

This fuck was supposed to set us straight. I was supposed to take full control of her pussy for hours, and I've got her eating out of my hand like usual, but I'm the one going down like a titan.

Then I hear her voice, like she's calling to me through a tunnel, shrill and otherworldly. “I want it, Chris. Come inside me. Come hard. Come until I can't hold it.”

Shit! I'm finished.

Her hair wraps around my hand and I throw the other arm across her waist. Her wrists swing tight in my belt as I smash my hips into hers again and again, so frantic I'm like a stag in mating rut.

I want to fill her completely, and I absolutely fucking do a second later when my balls jerk, hurling the first hot jet inside her. My cock roots deep. I'm growling, throbbing near her womb, unloading everything between her legs.

All my tension, all my seed, all the raw shit in my head I've always tried to hide.

She's torn me open. It's all coming out, and it won't fucking stop, especially when her hips pulse against mine. Her pussy squeezes hard, pulling more come from my cock. Her fingers curl like they're going to snap right off as her lungs stop working.

It's so tight and hot and wet I lose my damned mind.

* * *

What the fuck just happened? I ask the question in my head when I finally come to.

We're both panting, trying to recapture the air in our lungs. Thick come trickles down her thighs, mixed with her own cream. I run my hand between her legs to feel what we've done, right as my dick slides out.

“Chris?” She whispers my name, soft and unsure. “My arms are getting tired.”

I reach up and unfasten my belt, hurling it on the floor. I turn her around to face me, and we kiss. Her eyes are practically glowing, and I'm hard again in record time.

I've had my fill of seeing her bound to this bedpost, but I'm not through with her pussy. I strip off the rest of our clothes, mine first and then the last of hers, then lay her down on the big old bed, completely naked.

The entire evening is a flurry of sucking, fucking, and my hand over her mouth, a half-assed attempt to keep what we're doing hidden. I don't know why I care.

Kiss by kiss, fuck by fuck, I'm finished playing games. I'm done hiding what I feel from her, and it's only a matter of time 'til our parents find out. Evie has a nose like a feral bitch, and she's going to try to use us against Bruce, try to paint me as the bad guy who defiled his precious daughter.

I let her ride my cock, holding my hand over her mouth the entire time. She bites me when she comes, and my balls spit more fire, come I didn't know I had. I'm crazed to pump it into her at some wild, animal level I don't understand.

It doesn't compute, and I can't control it. We barely even speak as our bodies collide, only stopping to rearrange ourselves, one long conversation in flesh and sweat and come.

I've lost track of how many times she comes, and my own count isn't much better. Only the growing soreness in my balls reminds me of how many times we've fucked, and how much I'm still aching to fill her, fuck her with a fury and intensity beyond any woman I've ever been with.

She's curled up on my chest when she runs her hand across my stubble. It feels good, natural, as incredible as her soft brown eyes gazing into mine.

“Maybe you were right about this talk,” she says softly. “You're not just an arrogant fling who's come to screw my brains out, Chris. I wish you'd stop acting like it. There was more there, wasn't there?”

“I already said the L-word once, babe. You're not getting that shit more than once a day unless you come for me again.”

She laughs as I slide my hands between the well used softness between her legs. My fingers do all the work, feeling the wetness, the fire, all the pent up energy we've unloaded with our friction. I wait 'til she's almost on the edge before I break down and say it.

I jerk her by the hair, one ear close to my lips, loving the way she always fights me by twisting her head. If this keeps up, the poor girl's gonna be bald before summer.

“In case you didn't figure it out yet, Delia, I fucking love you.”

I don't let her say it back. She clenches her jaw and tries her best not to scream as my fingers fuck her, stroking her clit, sending her over the edge into a whole new storm of blinding ecstasy.

Somewhere in the maelstrom my hand pulls away. I flip her over on the bed, pin her hands over her head, and shove her legs up. I fuck her hard and fast, sending her into another blizzard somewhere between consciousness and dumb pleasure.

I can't believe I said it. Hell, I can't believe I didn't say it sooner.

Her body's been working its spell on me all summer, binding me to her a little more each time we fuck.

It's insane. I can't imagine giving her up. Thinking about letting her go off and live her rich girl life, finding some other bland asshole to sink his dick in, makes me want to start tearing the whole damned world apart.

I'm seething at all the boys she'll never have – all the ones I'll keep from ever coming in sniffing distance.

She's mine, goddamnit. Mine tonight, mine tomorrow, mine 'til I'm ash.

I thrust harder, slamming into her in deep, long strokes, feeling my balls boil up even more uncontrollably than when she was leashed down.

“Fuck, babe, I'm coming!” I bow up and plant my cock deep, holding it against her womb, emptying my balls.

She wraps her legs around me and screams, fighting to put her hands on my body, but I keep them pinned. The very thought of her fucking anybody else makes me rage as much as those two thugs I destroyed for her in Vegas.

She's my property. She's off limits. I've laid my claim, and I'm not done yet, not even by half.

Mine tonight. Mine tomorrow. Mine forever.

It's like a mantra I can't stop hearing, one that makes me harder, hornier, and psycho possessive.

I don't know how the hell we're gonna make this work. We're stepsiblings from two different worlds. But we'll figure it out. When I lay my eyes on something I want, it's a mission, and my track record in the SEALs, just like in life, says I never fail.