My Obsessed Billionaire Stepbrothers

Kane

Something about the sound of the door shutting behind her makes my shoulders tense.

I stare at the brown liquid in my glass, balancing the tumbler on my knee. I'm agitated; it's obvious from the way my foot bounces. But it's not because of her or the fact that I'm here.

No.

It's because of her.

It's been three days, and I still can't get her words out of my head. You had no problem doing it, even though you knew I was your sister.

She wasn't wrong. Hell, if I had the opportunity right now, I'd fucking do it again. The more I told myself I couldn't have her or shouldn't want her, the more my control slipped. It was dripping past my fingers like some thin liquid that just couldn't be contained. I raked my teeth over my bottom lip, bringing the glass to my mouth, and took a large swallow.

I barely feel the burn.

Like last time, she's nervous. It pours off her in waves. I've always known my morals were a bit skewered. Maybe it's because I have a fucking schoolboy attraction to my stepsister. And that's an easy way of putting it. Most days, my hands shake with the urge to just touch her, even though I know that once I have a taste, I will never stop.

It would never be enough.

My grip tightened on the glass. It's easy to forget my ass.

All this and the fact that watching this girl shake like a leaf while she stands in front of me fills me with a dull sense of satisfaction, a little through, making me want to push her past her limits just to see when she will finally stop me.

If she would,.

I let go of myself the last time I came here; it's something I hardly ever do. And I still don't know what caused it. A piece of pussycat was nothing new to me, nor was being an audience to a woman pleasuring herself for a pretty sum of cash.

But something—something in me—cracked and sizzled, making my restraint go up in smoke. It's a side of me I know too well, a side of me my brother is too familiar with for my liking.

My gaze cuts to him. He has his elbow resting on the back of the lounge chair, his head balanced lazily in one hand as he watches her. He made me come here today, hinting at it when my scowl was deeper than normal. He pushed the idea at me, and I didn't have the spirit to decline.

I barely had the energy to do anything this weekend other than stew in the bitterness of my predicament.

I want something I can't have.

I want it so bad that some days, she's the only thought that occupies my mind. I wish I could go back in time and turn the clock around to the moment I pulled up on that bastard rubbing up on her in the street. The fury sparks through me even now. I would have done a lot more than crack the fat pig's skull. And then after, I would have answered her question.

Why did you kiss me before you left?

Leaving felt wrong. Wanting her felt wrong. Feelswrong. But that kiss, fuck, it felt so right.

She wasn't having my sh*t that day; Aurelia was never one to shy away from me. Her eyes spark like flames when she speaks back to me, and all the time I intentionally become an asshole to push her further out of my reach. Her stare carries a heat that makes a straight path to my groin.

That day, four years ago, I was frustrated. I didn't want to leave, but I knew I had to, and I took it out on her. But, like I said, she wasn't having it. And I just... lost it.

Would I do things differently if given the chance? Yeah, I'd do it ten times harder.

She's my sister. My sister. I chant the words in my head like a prayer. In. Day. Out. But it does nothing to calm the burn in my veins each time my eyes find hers.

Sighing, I take another swallow.

I haven't been back here. I told myself I wouldn't come back here. I don't like fucking random women or touching them, but this girl right here has a mouth like a goddamn vacuum. If I couldn't have a mental release, then my cock would do just fine.

Maybe it's not worth twenty-fucking million dollars. But I'm in a mood. Both the first time and now.

I let my gaze trail down her body slowly, pondering exactly what I could use her for today.

Part of me wants to rip off that mask so I can see her cry once I shove my cock into her, but even I know that's only because I'm in a horrible mood. And I don't think I want to fuck her. Dark amusement settles inside me as the next thought filters through my head.

Not yet.

That only means one thing. I'd be coming back here again. And again. And again.

Similar sheer, thigh-high stockings, strangling the flesh of her thigh so tight it puts a dent in the skin. Lace thong, a scrap of fabric that's practically see-through. My eyes coasted back up to her chest, her sizeable tits pouring out of the cups like milky mounds. A perfect handful.

A perfect mouthful.

"Don't tell me this is how it's going to be all the time, Blue." Of course, the idiot had already found a nickname for her. "We're not strangers anymore."

She runs her hands up her thighs, most likely wiping her sweaty palms. Nervous. What else is new?

"What would you like me to do today?" She whispers the question. Always whispering.

Rune tilts his head beside me, and I can just feel the devilish glint in his eyes. "My brother's had a rough couple of days." More like years. "Do him something good, will you?"

She walks up to me, her gait slow and tentative. "What would you like me to do?"

"How about a little dance?"

Annoyance built; didn't he understand that I could speak for myself? But I didn't disagree and didn't tell him off either.

"Okay," She breathes, taking in a deep breath like she's gearing up to face me again.

She moves to turn around, but I've fixed her with a cool stare. "Don't make me ask."

Vague, but she knows what I'm talking about. Slowly, her hands move to the clasp of her bra.

I lean forward in my seat, the tone of my voice taking on a dark note. "You know I like it when you look up at me."

She swallows, but dutifully drops to her knees between my spread thighs. Her hands shake as she reaches behind her, undoing the clasp of her bra and letting the material fall away from her flesh. Tits spill out. I lean back in my chair, downing the rest of my drink in one go.

Her hands press on my thigh as she moves to stand up, my eyes fleeting to the contact. And then, like ice put out on display under the sweltering sun, my chest thaws.

It was less than a second, but that glance was long enough for me to notice the purple, finger-shaped bruise curling around her left wrist.