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Actually, I could. It wasn’t the first time my mom had done something this crazy. She was a serial gold digger. She dated and married men like she was trying out different ice cream flavors at Baskin-Robbins.
I wondered how long this one would last.
“Hey Mom,” I said as I approached the table.
Her eyes lit up and she smiled as wide as she could, even if the rest of her face didn’t move much, thanks to her regular Botox injections. My mom was nothing if not the stereotypical vapid Beverly Hills wife.
“My baby! I’m so glad you were able to make it.”
She would have guilt-tripped me for days if I hadn’t.
“Jenna, this is Richard Jackson.”
He stood and extended his hand. “All my friends call me Dick.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something embarrassing like why on earth a man would choose to be called a body part instead of Rich or his full name, Richard. I reached out and took his hand. He had a firm grip at least, better than the last guy my mom dated who had a weak-ass handshake and even weaker morals. He’d cheated on her within a few days of them getting together.
“Nice to meet you.”
He gestured for me to sit in one of the two seats across from them, so I did.
God, this was awkward. It always was, but I was so not in the mood today, and it was hard to fake enthusiasm or interest like I usually did.
“I’m so glad you decided to come back down to LA for the summer,” my mom said.
My pasted smile faltered slightly, but she didn’t notice. “Me too,” I said weakly.
If only she knew the reason I moved home was because I was struggling in my classes, and my advisor had recommended I take the summer off to regroup before fall semester. So, while my peers were all working internships at local veterinary offices, I was down here in LA, lazing around in the apartment I’d managed to sublet from a friend I met in undergrad who was out of the country for the summer.
I was taking a sip of my water when Dick—nope, I couldn’t eventhinkthat name without wanting to giggle inappropriately—smiled wide at something or someone behind me.
“Hey! You made it,” he said as he stood.
I spun around in my chair and then froze in my seat, my eyes bugging out like they do in those old-school cartoons.
What in the actual fuck?
“Jenna, meet my son, Connor.”
His son?!
Oh my fucking God. I wished the floor would swallow me whole or that I’d never agreed to come to this disaster of a brunch.
Because his son—Connor— was none other than the same man who rearranged my insides during the best sex of my entire life last night.
Monster dick had a name, and worse than that, he was my new stepbrother.
Fuck me.
Connor’s steps didn’t falter as he moved to the table, but his eyes never left mine.
“Connor, this is Jenna, Vanessa’s daughter.”
The son of a bitch—actually, his mom was probably lovely unless she was as vapid as mine, but that was beside the point—had the audacity to pull out that cocky smirk that had my panties wet last night. My traitorous body lit up like the Fourth of July, and that delicious ache that I felt with every step pulsed at the reminder of all the naughty things we had done.
The way he held my throat firmly as he thrust deep inside me.
The way he called me his dirty little slut and had me coming on his cock until I saw stars.
