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His Plaything(3)

By:Ava Jackson

Why the fuck was Avery crashing here so suddenly, anyway? Why did she have to invade every aspect of my life? I guess I'll have to ask her that when she arrives. For now I just growled into Pam's mouth, our sloppy kiss smearing her bright lipstick, and tried my damnedest to chase away the fantasy of my gorgeous new stepsister.

Chapter 2


The sound of my suitcases' wheels softened suddenly as I rolled from the sidewalk into the carpeted lobby. Blinking, I looked around, trying not to gape at how opulent my stepbrother's condo complex was. Oak-paneled walls, black-and-white marble floors, potted orchids on every accent table. A crystal chandelier hung over a sunken lounge area, containing an oblong glass coffee table and several antique chairs upholstered in blue and gold. Dang … well, I guess the Bennett family does have a shit-ton of money.

Studying abroad in London had been amazing, but the email from my dad had been the opposite of amazing. Hey, by the way, I can't afford your rent on top of tuition anymore, so you have to go live with some guy you barely know. At the same time, though, it felt good to be back home in California. The familiar boutiques and restaurants and tanned, daydreaming people. The gentle, warm breeze that always smelled of salt. The sun that blazed down as if it had never seen a cloud. And the white-sanded beaches and azure waves of Coronado Island, just across the bay from San Diego, with a cute little downtown where tourists rented bicycles and sipped fruity cocktails in historic cafes.

So yeah, despite how abruptly I'd been yanked into this weird situation, I felt pretty good. I was going to live in a jaw-droppingly beautiful city, in a jaw-droppingly expensive apartment, and I was going to kick my last semester's ass. Graduate early. Take the fashion world by storm. Everything would work out.

Still, I felt a lingering nervousness as I lugged my suitcases up to Nixon's sixth-floor unit. As grateful as I was for such a nice place to live, I was still a freeloader, and arriving on pretty short notice. Had that pissed him off? How did he feel about being stuck with a girl roommate?

Trying to squelch my doubts, I double-checked the unit number and knocked on the door. No answer. After a few more knocks and a lot more waiting, I tried the knob and felt it turn. Maybe he'd left his condo unlocked in case I showed up while he was out? Not wanting to wait in the hallway until he got back, I poked my head inside.

Loud female moans immediately struck my ears. My face flushed slightly. Had he left a porno playing or something? I'd probably have to get used to that kind of thing, if I was going to live with a dude. The moans grew louder—and sounded more real. Was there a real live woman here? Oh, shit, what if I had the wrong address? I crept further into the apartment … and finally saw my new stepbrother.

Naked as a jaybird. Fucking the daylights out of a blonde on the dining-room table.

I almost screamed and instead made a choked gasp. Nixon's head turned at the noise. Our eyes locked. I expected him to yell or freak out, maybe even laugh. But he just looked mildly surprised. Like I'd interrupted him while he was deep in a good book instead of a human being.

He pulled out and turned to face me. His partner sat up to see what the hell was going on. She looked like a Barbie doll, with large, fake breasts and a long bleach-blonde mane. Her heavily made-up eyes widened at the sight of me. But my eyes had zeroed in on Nixon's crotch—on his long, thick, throbbing erection, barely contained by the slick latex stretched tight around it.

“Hi, sis,” he said casually.

Just those two words. What the hell? My brain was exploding and my stomach was imploding and all he could say was hi, sis? A strangled squeak escaped me, and I fled down the hall like a terrified rabbit. Somehow I managed to hold onto my suitcases instead of flinging them at his face.

By sheer dumb luck, I found the empty guest room and slammed the door behind me. My face was on fire. I had acted disgusted with him, and for the most part, I was. But on another level—something more primal, clawing up from the pit of my belly—everything I'd witnessed was burned into my mind.

I couldn't stop replaying the scene I'd stumbled into. How could something so huge even fit inside someone? The only guy I'd ever slept with hadn't been nearly Nixon's size. But that woman's moans had been so loud, and Nixon's cock had glistened with her wetness when he turned to face me. She must have felt good. Amazing, even. His taut ass had clenched hard with the sheer force of his thrusts. With a cock like that, you'd think he'd barely have to move to make a woman come. I shifted from foot to foot, trying to ease the tension gathering between my legs, and my jumpsuit's sleek polyester slithered over my skin. Why was I suddenly so aware of that sensation? And when did it get so hot in here? My bare arms had goose bumps from the air conditioning and yet I felt sweaty.