Follow
Chapters
Share
Hot For My New Stepbrother

Hot For My New Stepbrother

I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage. She paid my tuition with his father's money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I'll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose. Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me. So I moved into the Hunters' mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell. Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more. I thought graduation meant freedom from him. I was wrong. Now he's my stepbrother. He hates that I'm here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me. But hate isn't clean anymore. It's tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me. In the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I'm shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more. He calls me Little Lamb like it's poison on his tongue. I call him every name I can think of under my breath. How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?
Chapters
Share

Chapter 4

Aurelia His hand on my throat squeezed once more, a final, lethal promise, before both hands released me so suddenly I nearly stumbled. Cold air rushed in where his body had been. By the time I spun around, water bottle clutched like a weapon, he was already leaning against the counter, arms crossed, that cruel smirk cutting across his face like he hadn't just threatened to destroy me in the filthiest way possible. "Car leaves in ten," he said coolly. "Be in it. Or I'll drag you there myself." He pushed off the counter and walked out, leaving me shaking against the fridge, thighs pressed together against the ache he'd left behind. By the time I stomped out to the driveway, Chase was already leaning against his sleek black Audi, arms crossed, looking pissed enough to devour me right there in broad daylight. Those grey eyes tracked me like a predator watching prey that had dared to make him wait. I yanked open the passenger door and slid in, slamming it harder than necessary. The second my seatbelt clicked, his hand shot out, lightning fast, fingers clamping around my waist. "What the-" Before I could finish, he hit the button to recline his seat all the way back. One brutal tug and I was hauled across the console, sprawled face-down over his lap like I weighed nothing. My sundress rode up instantly, cool air hitting the backs of my thighs as my ass tilted up toward him. His palm cracked down on my bare skin with a sharp, stinging smack that echoed inside the car. I gasped, the sound half-shock, half-something I refused to name. Heat exploded across my ass, blooming hot and fierce. "That's for the smart mouth at breakfast," he growled, his voice husky and rough, his free hand pinning my hips so I couldn't wriggle away. "And for making me wait like some fucking chauffeur." Another smack, harder this time, landed on the other cheek. My fingers scrabbled for purchase on the leather seat, breath hitching as the sting sank deeper, twisting into something dark and throbbing between my legs. I hated how my body arched into it, how my thighs pressed together against the sudden ache. "Chase-stop-" He didn't. His hand came down again, slower this time. The crack of skin on skin made me jolt, a whimper slipping out before I could bite it back. "Keep talking," he warned, fingers tracing the burning outline he'd just left, rough and possessive. "Every time you open that pretty mouth to defy me, I add another. By the time we get to campus, you'll be dripping down your thighs, begging me to finish what I started last night." His palm soothed over the heat for a second, just long enough for me to catch my breath, then lifted and struck again, right at the curve where ass met thigh. The sting shot straight to my core, and I couldn't stop the helpless moan that tore free. He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of my ear, breath hot and whiskey-rough even this early. "You're mine to punish now, Little Lamb. In this house. In this car. On that fucking campus. Every time you forget it, I'll remind you exactly who you belong to." His fingers slipped just under the edge of my panties, not quite touching where I was shamefully wet, but close enough that I felt the threat of it. A promise. Then, as suddenly as he'd grabbed me, he lifted me off his lap and deposited me back in my seat like nothing had happened. My dress fell back into place, but the heat pulsing across my skin, and deeper, remained. He started the engine with a low growl that matched the one still rumbling in his chest. "Seatbelt," he ordered, eyes forward, his jaw tight. I fumbled with shaking hands to click it in place, thighs clenched, every nerve on fire. The car peeled out of the driveway, tires screeching just enough to match the scream I was holding inside. The arrogant bully that he was, Chase screeched to a halt right at the massive wrought-iron gates of University of Underwood, engine revving like he couldn't wait to be rid of me. He didn't say a word. He didn't even glance my way. He just stared straight ahead, one hand drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. I shoved the door open and climbed out, my ass still throbbing faintly from his "lesson" earlier, every step a reminder of his palm on my skin. The second my feet hit the pavement, he punched the gas and drove off, tires spitting gravel and leaving me in a cloud of exhaust and humiliation. Well, good riddance to bad rubbish. Registration flew by, but orientation dragged on forever. Endless tours, forced small talk, and a campus so huge I felt like a speck. By the time I dragged myself back through the mansion's front doors, the sky had gone dark, the house lit only by soft sconces along the walls. Chase's Audi was in the garage, gleaming under the low lights like a bad omen. My stomach twisted. After everything he'd done to me between last night and today, in the hallway, the kitchen, the car, I wanted nothing more than to sneak upstairs, lock my door, and pretend he didn't exist. I slipped off my shoes, moving as quietly as possible, heart thudding with every creak of the marble floor. The second floor was silent, thank God. My room was at the far end of the hall; his was closer to the stairs, the master-sized suite that screamed spoiled prince. I was almost past it when a low, unmistakable sound stopped me dead. A woman's moan, breathless, needy, followed by the rhythmic creak of a bed and a deep, guttural groan that I knew belonged to him. His door was half ajar, a slice of warm golden light spilling into the hallway like an invitation I never asked for. I should have kept walking. I should have run. But my feet wouldn't move. My hand tightened around my bag strap, and before I could stop myself, I edged closer, just enough to see through the gap. And God, I wished I hadn't. Chase was on his knees in the center of his massive bed, completely naked, every inch of him carved from pure sin. Moonlight and lamplight poured over his broad shoulders, highlighting the flex of muscle down his back, the taper of his waist, the powerful thighs braced wide. His dark hair was messy, damp with sweat, falling into his eyes as he moved. He was magnificent, feral and beautiful in a way that made my throat dry and my core clench against my will. A girl, blonde, long-legged, the same one from the pool, was on her hands and knees in front of him, back arched, her face buried in the sheets as he fucked her from behind with slow, brutal thrusts. His hand was fisted in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to make her cry out, while his other hand gripped her hip, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. But it was him, his cock, that stole every ounce of air from my lungs. He was huge. Thick, long, glistening with her wetness as he pulled almost all the way out before driving back in with a roll of his hips that made her whole body jolt. Veins stood out along the shaft, the head flushed dark and swollen, stretching her visibly with every punishing stroke. It was raw, obscene and perfect. And the sight of it sliding in and out of her, slick and relentless, it sent a bolt of heat straight between my legs. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move or tear my eyes away from the way his abs flexed, the way his ass tightened with each thrust, the low growls rumbling from his chest like he was barely holding on to control. He shifted, angling deeper, and the girl shattered, moaning his name in a broken sob as her arms gave out. Chase didn't stop. He slammed into her harder, chasing his own release, his head tipping back, neck corded, his full lips parted in a silent snarl. I pressed my thighs together, hating the ache building low in my belly, hating how wet I already was just from watching. Then his head turned, just a fraction, and those storm-grey eyes locked onto mine through the crack in the door, pinning me in place. He saw me, and everything stopped.

You may also like

Betrayed By Fiancé, Claimed By His Uncle
7.2
Clare Lynch thought she was celebrating her fairy-tale engagement. She happily drank the pink cocktail her best friend, Brianna, handed her. But the drink was laced with a powerful, burning drug. As Clare's legs gave out, she overheard Brianna whispering outside the door. Her best friend had hired two thugs to assault her on camera and completely ruin her life. Terrified and gasping for air, Clare hid in the VIP room and called her fiancé, Jaren, for help. "I feel sick. Something is wrong. Please come get me." But Jaren just sighed impatiently, busy comforting his mistress in the background. "Stop throwing tantrums for attention. Grow up." Jaren hung up the phone. When Clare finally escaped and begged her grandmother to cancel the wedding, the matriarch coldly refused. She told Clare that marriage was just a business transaction, and she had to endure Jaren's cheating because their family needed the Bolton's money. Betrayed by her best friend, abandoned by her fiancé, and sold out by her own blood. Clare's world completely collapsed. She was nothing but a bargaining chip, thrown to the monsters by the people she loved most. The sheer injustice of it burned her soul to ash. With her last ounce of strength, Clare made a desperate choice. She called Aurthur Bolton—Jaren's ruthless, terrifying uncle. When the most dangerous man in New York kicked down the door to save her, Clare made a silent vow. She was done playing the perfect victim. She would let the devil claim her, as long as he helped her burn her abusers to the ground.
HEARTS DON'T BREAK IN PARIS - THEY TEACH
8.1
A slow-burn romance about love, loss, and becoming worthy of the heart you almost lost. Julien Moreau has everything-money, charm, and women who fall for him too easily. What he doesn't have is the ability to stay. In Paris, he is known for loving without commitment and leaving without explanation. Hearts break behind him, and he never looks back. Until Amélie Laurent. She is different. She doesn't chase him. She doesn't beg for love. And when she realizes Julien isn't ready to love honestly, she does the one thing no woman before her has done- She walks away. What follows is not a chase, but a reckoning. As Julien is forced to face the emotional damage he has left behind, he learns that love isn't about desire or charm-it's about responsibility. And Amélie learns that loving someone should never cost her self-respect. In a city where romance is everywhere, two hearts must decide: Is love something you run from... Or something you grow into? Hearts Don't Break in Paris - They Teach is an emotional, slow-burn romance filled with self-discovery, redemption, and a love that chooses honesty over fear.
HIS UNWORTHY MATE
9.3
Jade knows what it feels like to have no one in her corner; she experienced it firsthand when her aunt sweet-talked her parents and took her to the Philippines' when she was eight. After years of abuse and being used, the only thing Jade wished for was an escape to finally go home and be with her family. All Jade wished for was to experience what it feels like to be loved once again and she got that when she finally escaped from her aunt and made her way back home to her pack and family in Detroit. Finding out that the Alpha Heir Hunter was her mate was the best thing to ever happen to Jade, and Hunter gave Jade a home, love, and became the safety and comfort Jade had always wished for. Two years of blissful union came to an abrupt end when Jade woke up in bed with her sister's boyfriend after a party. Her life goes from sweet to bitter in a matter of days as everyone Jade once loved turned their backs on her, refusing to believe them when she said she didn't cheat on her mate. How could she? Hunter was the love of her life. Jade goes from preparing to becoming the Luna of the Blackwood Pack, to being treated no less than a traitor. Hunter doesn't wait another heartbeat before rejecting her, and Jade is soon branded as a defective mate, banished to the woods as a rogue. How will Jade survive life as a pregnant rogue? The cursed brand on her neck makes it impossible for any pack to take her in. Will her mate come after her? Or will Jade find her strength somewhere else and come back to enact her revenge on the people who hurt her?
I Think Married the Wrong Man... Not Knowing He Owns Bangkok
7.6
Luna thought she married a quiet, ordinary man to escape her family and an ex-fiancé plotting against her. Ethan Cole seemed harmless, but behind the scenes, he controls Bangkok's most formidable empire. As strange events unfold and rivals fall, Luna begins to see the hidden power of the man she married. Secrets, love, and vengeance entwine, revealing a truth that will shake her world-and her heart.
Mated to The Enemy, Revenge For My Brother
7.8
Rosalind Rivers has only ever wanted one thing - revenge. The Lycan Prince, Aklan Draven, murdered her brother in cold blood. Or so she's believed her whole life. Now, forced to serve under him at the Lycan Academy, she has no choice but to obey the man she swore to hate. But hating him becomes harder with every clash, every stolen glance, every heartbeat that refuses to stay loyal to her rage. Because fate has a cruel sense of humor. He's her fated mate. Aklan doesn't understand why this stubborn, sharp-tongued wolf gets under his skin or why her scent feels like home. He only knows she's trouble. The kind that tests his control, drags buried memories to the surface, and makes him question everything he thought he knew about loyalty and guilt. But when a hidden truth comes to light - that Rosalind's brother didn't die by Aklan's hand but by choice, their world begins to unravel. Old wounds reopen. Ancient forces stir. And Rosalind learns she is no ordinary wolf, but something far rarer, something worth killing for. Between vengeance and love, duty and destiny, one wrong move could ignite a war between realms. And the cruelest part? She might just lose her heart to the man she was born to destroy.
My Professor Obsession
9.5
One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise. Now, he is Caspian Blackwood-the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days. The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It's for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?