King Sized

  Ken wasn’t my father, and I sure as shit wasn’t his son. But, that didn’t stop him from saying it every chance he got. That would be item number two that I didn’t know when I took the job — that Ken Price wasn’t just courting me for a job, he’d been courting my mother for a different position altogether.

  Wife number two.

  Yeah, Ken was my stepfather, as of nine months before.

  I only had brief memories and a couple of photos of my real dad — a marine vet who’d made the mistake of getting mixed up with Catherine, my mother. Of course, Catherine hadn’t ever told me the real story, but I’d been in contact with an old platoon mate of my dad’s who had. Dad had gotten my mom pregnant, he’d married her, and they’d had three years with me. Then she went out and cheated on him with just about anything with a dick and a six-figure income, and divorced him.

  Years later, here we were — me working my way through law school and the marines to get here, to where this asshole was calling me son.

  Why did I stay? I mean, why stay working for a man I truly disliked who’d also married my mom? Well, you could say it was the money, but I knew there was more out there. I knew for a fact actually. So it wasn’t the job. It wasn’t my mother either, and it sure as fuck wasn’t Ken.

  So, why did I stay? Why not take off and snag an interview at some other huge law firm across the country?

  Well, it’s what came with Ken. Or rather, who. It was who was living in Ken’s house when he and mom had gotten married, and thank fuck, she’d turned eighteen the day before I met her.

  Teasing, tempting, all-consuming.

  Everly.

  One look, in that restaurant where Ken and my mother had brought us all together to tell us the news, and I’d been hooked. Hopelessly ensnared. Perpetually hard as a rock. And turned right the fuck around.

  There were so many red flags that it’d almost blinded me. She was barely eighteen. She was my boss’s daughter. She was my step-sister. So many neon warning signs and I’d ignored every one of them.

  I tuned out the meeting again and reached into the back of my folder to pull out the letter.

  The letter.

  The one that was to me, but had clearly never been meant to actually get into my hands. Or maybe it had, and then her mind had changed.

  I growled, my cock throbbing at the mere touch of it as my fingers traced the paper hers had. I wondered briefly if she’d touched herself while writing the dirty, filthy things on the page. I wondered if she’d played with what I could only imagine was the worlds tightest, pinkest, sweetest little pussy.

  My pulse thundered as I brought the note to my face, as if it were part of the case being discussed, and I had to read some fine print.

  But I wasn’t reading it. I knew it by heart at this point. I knew every filthy word she’d written in there, and I knew they were all about me. So no, I wasn’t reading it. I was smelling it, because it smelled like her.

  Specifically, it smelled like her fucking panties.

  I had no right to go into her room at her dad’s house, ever. But that didn’t and hadn’t stopped me. Nothing could stop me from my obsession with her.

  Not that she was barely legal.

  Not that her damn father was my mother's new husband.

  Not other women, since I hadn’t even touched one since I met her.

  Not that fact that she was my step-sister.

  Literally none of it could stop me.

  The letter I’d found in my most recent exploration, the day before. Everly had been out, and I’d been over at the house using her father’s home gym, as I’d been dong for a few months. The gym in my apartment bundling was under construction, and the house was just a shorter drive than any gym worth my time.

  Ken was out, Everly was out, and my mother was passed out drunk somewhere. It couldn’t be helped. My obsession couldn’t be stopped. Hell, I hadn’t been able to stop it since the second I’d laid eyes on her, and knew she had to be mine, come hell or high water.

  I’d gone into her room that day and just inhaled the scent of her. The whole fucking room smelled like strawberry body wash, vanilla scented candles, and eighteen year old pussy. I’d groaned, filling my nostrils with the sweet candy smell of her. I’d gone to her bed and buried my face in her pillow, my fucking heart beating out of my chest as I’d breathed her in.

  I’d gone to her dresser, and opened the middle drawer, where I knew she kept her panties. I’d growled, running my hands over her tiny little panties, and feeling the silk and lace tease over my fingertips.

  Fuck it got me hard.

  I’d shoved my hand in, almost imagining that I was running my fingers over the delicate lace while it was still stretched across her tight, hot little body. My cock lurched in my gym shorts, bulging at the front and leaking precum into my boxers as I wrapped my hand around it and groaned.

  My fingers and my eyes stopped at a tiny little pink thong with hearts on it that had the words “just visiting” written across the front. My jaw clenched tight, and my pulse quickened. I wasn’t sure if it was cute hot to think of innocent little Everly Price wearing such slutty panties, or if it was enraging to think that there was a possibility she’d gotten them for someone.

  …Some little prick who was going to find himself at the business end of my wrath if I ever learned who.

  I was gripping the panties in my hand before I realized there was something under them. An envelope with my name on it, plainly in her handwriting.

  My skin had tingled, and my whole body had tensed as I’d slowly opened the unsealed flap and pulled out the handwritten letter that was going to change everything.

  “Dear Channing,” it read. “I want you.”

  And from those first words, I knew she was mine. The letter laid out every fucking filthy thing Everly wanted me to do to her, and what she wanted to do to me. I mean fuck, it read like something out of Penthouse letters. I’d known she’d looked at me. But nothing, and I do mean nothing, could have ever prepared me to read the filthy fantasies rolling around sweet little Everly Price’s head.

  And I knew one thing: the letter was the ammunition I needed. It was the straw that broke this man’s last resolve — my last possible attempt at holding back and trying to convince myself that she was off limits, no matter how much I wanted to claim her.

  The letter changed all of that.

  I’d been waiting around this fucking town too long. I mean, I had the plan in place, but I’d just been waiting. And I think, somehow, deep inside, I’d been waiting for her.

  …And now, I was going to get her.

  I’d lay my trap. The letter would be my bait, and by the time she’d sprung it, she’d be too busy moaning my name and feeling every inch of my cock slide deep between those thighs to even know she’d been caught.

  Everly Price wanted me, huh? Well, she was going to get me. And I wasn’t going to stop until she was mine.

  Chapter 4

  Everly

  “Miss?”

  With a start I realized the cab was stopped, and in front of my father and Channing’s office building. I followed the wide-eyed stare of the cab driver through the rearview mirror and also realized with a hot flush that my skirt had ridden high on my thighs — like, scandalously high. I quickly yanked it down, blushing furiously, before handing my money to the driver and scampering out of the car.

  My pulse pounded as I rose in the glass elevator — my nervousness and the aching heat inside of me rising with each floor. At last, it opened to the law firm's floor, and I stepped out, still blushing as I stepped towards the receptionist’s desk. Back at the school, when I’d been ditching, the feeling of being bare under my skirt had been thrilling and exciting. Here though? In my dad’s freaking law firm? It was terrifying.

  The receptionist knew me, of course, and smiled as I asked about Channing. “How cute,” she must have thought, “his step-sister coming to keep him company at work for lunch.”

  If she'd known wh
at dirty, filthy thoughts and intentions lay beneath my shy smile, or what lack of panties lay beneath my skirt, I'm sure she'd have thought a little differently.

  Channing was in a meeting, she said, along with my dad. But she was sure it’d be fine if I waited for him in his office.

  “Want me to let your dad know you’re here?”

  “No!”

  I squeaked out the words, my face flushing at her raised brow before I somehow composed myself.

  “No, Channing and I are arranging something special for him.” I beamed my best good girl smile at her, which was pretty freaking good considering I’d spent my whole life working on it. That day, though, I wasn’t planning on being a good girl any longer.

  “It’s a surprise,” I added hastily.

  The receptionist just smiled and winked, like she was “in on it” with me. Lordy she had no idea.

  In Channing’s office, I sat down with a plop in his large, leather chair, the material sending a shiver through me as it made contact with my bare ass. I twirled in the chair, letting the nervous heat rise in me as I breathed in the smell of leather and wood and his aftershave in the dark, book-lined walls of his office.

  I let my legs drift apart in the opulently rich leather of my stepbrother’s chair. Now that I was alone again, the feel of the air across my bare pussy sent a thrill through me once again. A tingling, naughty chill ran up my spine, and I shivered at the forbidden and dark thought of what I was doing here.

  What I should have done months ago, I thought.

  I’d been stewing in my infatuation and lust for Channing for months, and that day, I was going to do something about it. I was going to go to college soon — across the country and away from him, with no plans for coming back. My “family” — apart from Channing — was toxic. I knew the kind of man my father was, and the sort of practices his law firm engaged in. I knew he was probably one of the reason’s my mother had driven off from the house that night years ago in tears and crashed. And Catherine, Channing’s mom? Well, she was just as bad. Mean, petty, and vindictive. Not to mention a raging drunk.

  I was ready to get away, and stay away. I didn’t want or need my father’s money. He’d already gotten me into some prestigious school here on the east coast, all paid for by him of course. But I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to owe him for my schooling, and I didn’t want him to use as leverage to get me into law later, like I knew he would.

  I’d applied to the small liberal arts college on the west coast without telling him. I’d gotten Catherine, while she was drunk of course, to sign the consent papers, along with a legal document I’d had drawn up that stated my parents would be cutting me off financially after high school.

  I’d gotten in, and I’d gotten the scholarship. Now, it was just waiting to go. But before I did, I had to do this. I’d dreamed about it, fantasized about it, and even freaking written about all the things I wanted with Channing. And today, I was going to do something about it.

  Sitting in his chair, breathing in his scent, my mind wandered again to that day I’d seen him with my panties wrapped tight around his cock. The scene had played out in my mind on repeat ever since. I imagined every detail — every groan from his lips, every stroke of his hand, and every thick inch of his rigid cock. My lips parted at the thought, and a small gasp escaped them. Teasingly, I let my hand wander to my thigh and linger, stroking the skin there as I closed my eyes and thought of my stepbrother’s cock.

  I wasn't sure exactly where the courage to do what I was doing at his office that day had come from. Maybe I just knew that if I let him get away — if I let myself flee to the other side of the country without telling him how I felt, or touching him, or kissing him like I wanted — then I’d never forgive myself. I'd stayed up late into the nights after that day I’d seen him, letting my fingers dance wet and feverishly over my pussy over and over, until I'd gasped out my orgasms into the darkness of my room.

  I suppose the seed had been planted that night. And since then, I'd been nurturing it with filthy daydreams, and fantasies, and stolen sideways glances at the panty-meltingly gorgeous, gruff, completely off limits man who’d entered my world with a bang.

  I’d been lusting over Channing since the first day I met him. But after that time watching him stroke his cock? Well, after that it was like someone had poured gasoline on the fire. I became obsessed with finding ways to see him like that again, or to see if I could get him to look at me again like he had that day he’d watched me in my bikini. When I knew he was coming over to use the gym or ti talk business with my father, I’d make sure to dress a little, well, skimpier than I might have ever actually dressed.

  There was even a day when he came over to lift some weights where I causally let drop that I’d be out for a run for the next hour. Instead, I’d hidden in my closet — bedroom door wide and my panty drawer open as I peered through the crack in the closet door to watch. I’d felt like I was out on safari, hunting big game or something. Like I was waiting for the lion to stroll into my sights.

  But he never did, and eventually, I just heard the sound of his car driving away.

  In his office now, I let my hand wander up my leg as I thought of him. My fingertips found the slick wetness of my pussy, making me gasp sharply before I quickly pulled my hand away.

  What was I doing?

  For a second, it suddenly hit me — that I was skipping summer school to sneak off to my father’s law firm, to wait in my stepbrother’s office to…what? To seduce him? I wanted to cringe at even thinking it. I mean, Channing was Channing. The man was sexy as sin, and beautiful, and muscled, and this successful lawyer. What did I honestly think he’d ever want with me? I’d never seen him with anyone, thank God, but I couldn’t imagine Channing exactly being short on ready and willing women.

  The thought made my scowl deepen, and I glanced at my hands.

  I should have just sent the letter.

  That’s what I should have done. I should have given him the note where I’d poured everything out, and then disappeared to California, where I’d never see him again or have to face the inevitable rejection. Like I might that day. I mean, what would happen when I tried to tempt him with the absolutely zero “feminine charms” I had and he said no? Or worse, when he called me sick for thinking things like that about my own stepbrother?

  Suddenly, I panicked. My head spun and my stomach knotted as I jumped out of Channing’s chair. I shook my head, pushing my fingers through my hair as only one thought ran through my mind: I had to get the heck out of there before I totally embarrassed myself.

  I walked briskly across his office, wondering how soon I could get a cab back to school and how easily I might slip back into 5th period. When suddenly, just as my hand touched the knob, the door to the office flung open, sending me reeling back.

  And suddenly, there he was — filling the doorway, looming over me, and with his eyes burning right into me.

  My heart jumped into my throat, and I gasped as Channing’s gaze sizzled through me. He didn’t look mad that I was in his office without him. He actually didn’t look surprised either. My eyes locked with his, and as I felt myself start to tingle and melt under that gaze, I slowly put a name to the look on his face.

  Hunger.

  I swallowed, any sense of my plan to somehow “put the moves on him” evaporating as he stepped into me, and into the room.

  “Well, well, well…” he growled lowly, his eyes never leaving mine as he swung the door shut behind him with a click.

  “Shouldn’t you be in school?” He almost looked amused as he stepped right into me, making me gasp as he brushed past me and moved towards his desk. I shivered, the skin of my wrist tingling where his hand had brushed me on his way past.

  “Probably,” I said, trying to sound cool and flippant but failing as my voice quavered a little. I turned to watch him sink into his chair, his eyes locked on me and this strange, thin, almost smile on his face as he drank me in. God he was good lookin
g. He’d draped his jacket over the back of his chair. His pale blue button up shirt, crisp and definitely tailored, fit snug across his broad, muscled chest and shoulders. His collar was buttoned around his dark, thin tie, and his sleeves were rolled halfway up his gorgeous, rippling forearms.

  I swallowed as I forced my eyes up to his deep, dark green ones, fixed on me like a hawk.

  “I’m sure you’re missing something important at school, Everclear.”

  I blushed at the nickname, biting my lip as I looked at him.

  “Math? Chemistry? World History? Lunch?”

  I giggled. “Eh, I’m sure it’s fine. I mean it’s just summer sch—”

  “What about writing?” he said, his voice heavier this time. And something in his eyes sparked, taking my breath away. “What do you think, Everly?” he purred. “Maybe some lessons in letter writing?”

  I froze, a soft, delicate, teasing tingle running down my spine.

  What had he just said?

  My jaw started to fall before I forced it back shut, my body tightening. No. No way. He hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just my guilt at knowing what I had written about him in that decidedly x-rated letter messing with my head. But then, he kept looking at me with that hungry, fierce gaze of his. His lips turned up in the corners as he drank me in, like he was amused at watching me squirm like this.

  “I— maybe I should go back to school,” I said quietly. I started to turn, my mind whirling and my confidence crumbling, when his voice rumbled through the air between us.

  “No.”

  The word growled from his mouth, and I actually gasped as I stopped short and turned back to him. Channing slowly shook his head, sitting back in his big leather chair with his beautiful, fierce green eyes locked on me. Slowly, he raised a hand, and my eyes went wide as I watched him beckon me with a crook of his finger.

  “Come here,” he purred lowly, those eyes flashing at me as he crooked his finger one more time. “You’re not going anywhere, princess.”