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Once, twice, I blink at my surroundings. A bedroom? When’s the last time I had one of these to myself?

Where the fuck…

The previous night comes back to me. Train, the one I rode up from New York. Station, the one I had to find my own ride outside of. House… Or mansion, I guess. I live in a fucking mansion now. And finally, bed. Mine.

I have a bed again.

Reaching over, I flip on the bedside lamp, illuminating my new room. Above the headboard are three large picture frames, all with black-and-white photos in them. It’s like my new stepmom searched “men’s bedroom” and went off the first result she found to decorate this room for me. There’s an elk, a plane, and a golf ball, none of which I could give a single fuck about. Never seen an elk, never been on an airplane, and a golf ball? Nah, not into that either. I’ve seen a few golf clubs before. Not even sure why really. I assume because they can be used as a weapon. But for their actual purpose? No one I know would be caught doing something as lame as golfing.

I give the photographs an upside-down perusal. They’re nice. Even though they’re not what I would’ve chosen for myself, I’ve never had a frame in my room before. As lifelong renters, we weren’t allowed to put holes in the walls. When I was a kid, I taped pages from magazines on my bedroom walls. As I got older, it was the occasional picture with friends. Friends only, no girls—much to their disappointment. They’re so corny with that shit. I swear it didn’t matter if we were banging or just talking, they’d always insist I have a motherfucking shrine for them. Now they want a shrine on my phone, which I would never do.

Speaking of girls, there was one last night. At the station. That’s how I got here. After giving me a ride, she stayed to…give me another kind of ride. We fell asleep sometime after, but as I scan the spot beside me and the rest of the dimly lit room, I see she must’ve snuck out…unless she ventured somewhere else in this hou—Mansion. It’s a mansion. Since it was my first time in my new home, we helped ourselves to a tour of it last night. This place has an indoor pool with its own grotto, a fireplace, swim-up bar, slide, and huge flat-screen TV set into the wall. Who the hell needs all that shit to swim?

My new family apparently. The Rhodeses. Seraphina and her daughter, Kota. Oh, and my dad because he took Seraphina’s last name.

Except he doesn’t swim and neither do I. The apartments I grew up in didn’t have amenities, of any kind, and we’re not the type to have a day at the beach, so I never learned how.

The bathroom across the hall has a bathtub big enough to swim in, so maybe I’ll learn there.

I roll my eyes as I drag my ass out of bed and throw on some sweats and a hoodie—hood up because it’s too early for this bullshit. If that girl is still around, I gotta make sure she’s not stealing anything.

Descending the stairs, I try to recall her name. She told me on the drive here, but I forgot it the moment we started drinking at the first of three bars in this ivy-covered house. Mansion. Fuck. I gotta get used to that word. The closest thing to a mansion in New York is a brownstone, but even one of those pales in comparison to this not-so-humble abode. Those are like four thousand square feet each. This mansion has to be around twenty. Thirty? I don’t know because nobody was here to tell me a single thing about it. My dad’s in Florida with his new wife, watching her daughter dance for…something. I only paid attention to when they’d be back—tomorrow. Which gives me the run of this place until then.

Hopefully this chick didn’t take anything. My pops would shit a brick.

Not that I’d know if something was missing. But Sera probably would. I’ve only met my new stepmom once, and during that one dinner, I got the distinct impression that Seraphina Rhodes wants things exactly the way she likes them. That includes her daughter. I’ve never met Kota, but judging by the way Sera talked about her, the girl doesn’t step out of line. Mommy’s little angel even at… How old is she? Eighteen at least, if she’s in college. The room next to mine was unlocked last night, so I peeked inside. It was way too feminine for me to step foot in but all the Littoral University paraphernalia on the walls was impossible to miss.

Coming around the corner into the glamorous kitchen, I find last night’s guest at the fridge, door wide open as she scans its contents for something to eat. A bit ironic considering a glance down her backside has my own appetite spiking. In shorts so tight they cup each ass cheek perfectly and a T-shirt tucked up into some kind of bra to reveal a toned back as well as dimples of Venus, so much of her body is on display. She’s dressed but just barely.

That body was naked on top of mine last night? Jesus, I didn’t appreciate her finer points nearly as much as I should’ve.

Actually, I was pretty drunk by the time we fell into my new bed together, so I’m not sure I appreciated any of her properly.

I should rectify that. Now.

Why not? No one’s here, and my dad did tell me to make myself at home. I can’t think of a better way to do that than to christen every room.

Using the element of surprise, I go right up behind the blonde and pull her hips into me.

Almost instantly, she grips the hoodie at the back of my neck, tugging me closer. I bury my face in the side of her neck, picking up sweet, musky notes of sun-ripened cherries and vanilla as I nose my way through her long curly hair to get to her skin.

Was her hair curled last night or did she curl it this morning? That’d be kinda weird though.

But she was at the train station. She probably had her beauty supplies in her luggage.

Unless she used the new stepsister’s hair…things. That’d definitely be weird. Right?

Do girls share their beauty shit like that?

Her ass rubs against my dick, and my mind goes blank.

Uh, fuck, I’m not gonna last long if she keeps doing that.

Better make her come quick then.

I slip a hand down the front of those skintight shorts but am immediately blocked by another barrier. Fucking underwear. If her shorts are the size of underwear, why is she still wearing underwear?

I nudge my thumb under one side of the fabric, then draw that shit open like a curtain.