Chapter Three

Paxton

No doubt about it, I was drunk. A lot more so than I had planned to be, and a lot more than I’d expected from four margaritas. I leaned against Mia, who was helpfully holding me up even as she lurched a bit too. I think she was as drunk as I was, since we’d both decided to drown our sorrows in strawberry margaritas to see if José Cuervo held the answers to life.

Apparently, his only answer was to drink more, and we had complied. I’d had four, and I think Princess had downed at least three. We’d also had some food, but I guess I’d gone too long without eating before that, or maybe just the stress of the last few days was catching up with me, and the alcohol was knocking me on my ass.

We were trying to be quiet, and I could feel her stifling a giggle as we crept up the stairs, arms around each other in a mockery of support. I had a mental image of missing the step and dragging her down with me. I supposed I should let her go, but I liked holding her, and I liked having the illusion we were sustaining each other.

Somehow, we made it up the landing and to my room, where she opened the door, or maybe I did. I was a little fuzzy on that, but either way, we were soon across the threshold. I closed the door behind me, locking it without thought. There was no way I was going to sleep in the same house as Dirk without my room locked. It was a childish reaction born of fear and experience. I even had the urge to move the dresser in front of the door to block his entry.

Fortunately, Mia distracted me from those thoughts as she aimed me toward my bed. I shuffled beside her and crashed down onto the soft mattress. Somehow, my hands refused to let go of her hips, and she ended up sprawled atop me.

That insistent, aching urge in my groin burst into life, and I was instantly hard and ready for her. Her eyes widened as my erection pressed into her tummy, and I didn’t know whether to apologize, make an off-the-cuff remark, or say nothing.

She didn’t speak either, but our gazes locked. I saw confusion in hers, along with a strong mix of desire. Shit. She wanted me too.

Shit, shit, shit.

I wasn’t a nice guy. Wasn’t into self self-denial or giving up things I wanted. I’d done enough of that shit in my life, so when I wanted something now, I got it if at all possible. That sounded badass, but mostly meant I just plunked down my credit card.

Still, there was no way to just toss down a credit card to acquire a stepsister. Did I even want to acquire her? Sure, she had a smoking hot body, but it came with a barge full of baggage I didn’t want to examine. For one thing, we were sort of related, and worst of all, she had sprang from the loins of the worst fucking man in the world. What if she was even a bit like Dirk?

On the other hand, she was soft and supple against me when she slowly relaxed. As she leaned a little closer to me, her nipples pushed against the thin fabric of my shirt, making me aware of the hard little buds pressing into my skin. I groaned softly, keeping my hands locked on her hips even as I wanted to move to her breasts, to pull off that short little T-shirt that had teased me all night, and see if she had a bra underneath.

Judging from the hard little tips pressing against my chest, I would guess Mia had skipped one. Her breasts were small and pert enough she could get away with it, but it wasn’t the kind of knowledge that made a man do the right thing.

Since when had I ever done the right thing? Maybe when I was younger, but I hadn’t for a long time. I didn’t give a shit about doing the right thing. Right then, I wanted oblivion, and she could provide it. Surrendering to my baser urges, I slid my hands up her body from her hips to her breasts, sliding under the hem of her T-shirt and finding bare skin, just as I had expected.

She drew in a breath that turned to a gasp when I flicked my thumbs across her nipples, and the hard little points tightened even further. My cock twitched in response, and it was all I could do not to grab her, tear off those tiny little shorts, and drive my cock into her hot little pussy. I had no doubts she’d be sopping wet for me.

Testing my theory, I trailed one hand down her stomach to the waistband of her shorts. She bit her lip, looking like she wanted to protest, and I waited a second to allow her to do so. I might be a fucking bastard, but I’m no rapist. I don’t go that far in taking what I want. This had to be completely consensual, or it wasn’t happening.

She didn’t say anything, and her eyes closed a second later as I caressed her skin with my thumb just under the waistband. She was soft and silky, and I imagined her mound would be even softer.

Seconds later, I found out for myself as I wedged my fingers under the waistband and discovered my sweet little stepsister had also skipped underwear. I groaned again at the discovery, pre-cum leaking from my cock in copious amounts. She was trying to kill me, and she hadn’t even planned it.

Her flesh was silky smooth and coated with her wetness as my fingers slipped lower, caressing the outside of her slit. She moaned softly when I pressed against her clitoris, but I denied her any further stimulation.

She opened her eyes wide to stare down at me, clearly waiting for me to proceed. It was like that, huh? She expected me to do all the work, and then she could absolve herself of any of the guilt later. Fuck that. Guilt I had in spades, and I didn’t need anyone else’s.

If Princess wanted this to happen, she would make it happen. It would be her choice, and her very clear, very explicit, and I hoped, incredibly dirty request. Her gaze still on me, I pulled my hand from her waistband and brought my fingers to my lips. I spent a moment inhaling her scent, savoring it, before I stuck my finger in my mouth.

She let out a hissing gasp, and her cheeks flared with heat as I sucked on my finger. Her essence was on my tongue, and it was all I could do not to flip her over, take off those shorts, and bury my head in her snatch for a long midnight snack of stepsister cunt. Damn, I was a dirty bastard when I was horny.

“It’s been a long day, Mia.”

She nodded slowly. “Stressful too.”

It was my turn to nod. My fingers were by her mouth, and I deliberately ran the same one I’d had in her slit over her lower lip. To my surprise, her little pink tongue flicked out like a Siamese cat and licked my finger very briefly. Then I dropped my hand back to my side, releasing the breast I still held with my other. Now my hands were on the bed, and the only reason she stayed atop me was her own muscles holding her up. With a grin, though I didn’t exactly feel amused, I said, “I’m going to get some sleep now. See you in the morning.”

For just a second, her expression betrayed confusion that morphed quickly to irritation. I did feel a genuine flash of amusement when her lips tightened, though her composure didn’t slip. She looked icily polite as she pried herself off my body, my erection following her as it jutted upward against the denim jeans barely containing it. I made no move to hide my arousal, and her gaze flicked there for a long second.

I was convinced I saw longing in her eyes, but it was gone when she blinked and tilted her head higher, firming her lips.” Well, good night, Paxton.”

She turned and left without another word, though she slammed the door harder than necessary. I was kind of relieved she did it now instead of in the morning, when my hangover would have a chance to kick in.