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Much less the brown-eyed succubus I’ll have sharing a wall if I linger here too long.
I felt the heat in Delia’s thigh when I teased her.
I wish I didn’t.
There’s no mistaking that warmth.
I know a woman’s body better than I know tactical drills.
Unfortunately, there’s a lot I’ve found out tonight, too.
For one, my mother hasn’t changed a damn bit, and her new hubby’s exactly the weak, starstruck simp enabler I expected.
Delia’s the only mystery I still care to explore, and unraveling her is officially impossible.
Sinking into the huge Victorian bed, I sling the fiery booze down my throat in a quick swallow. It burns all the way to my balls.
If only I could talk some sense into my cock.
We’re not doing this, you greedy fuck. You can’t have her.
Not anymore.
But the flesh knows what it wants, and it doesn’t speak logic.
Lust doesn’t comprehend boundaries or taboos or appalling contradictions.
I’m lucky I’m disciplined enough to avoid slipping up and doing something monumentally stupid. But now that she’s technically family, how the hell do I ignore her?
There’s no telling how long this joke of a marriage will last, or when I’ll be forced to come rushing back here because Ma winds up in the hospital or worse.
How do I just up and pretend my stepsister doesn’t burn me to ashes with every glance?
Fuck.
I decide then and there that as long as I’m stuck in this unexpected hell, I might as well have some fun. Humor never failed to help lighten the load.
Plus, a diabolical part of me enjoyed messing with her head tonight.
With the longest summer of my life in full swing, what if Miss Delia helps me blow off some steam?
If I can’t have her mounted to my dick, the least I can do is know her.
And if my teasing and jokes go to her head—if she winds up loathing every molecule of air I breathe—so be it.
At least she’ll remember me like no other man.
And I wish a mangled part of my soul didn’t want that so badly—but I learned to stop wishing for miracles a long fucking time ago.
5
Blue Lightning (Delia)
I’m lying in bed chasing distractions, flipping through my phone, sucking at silly choose-your-own-adventure story games and texting friends I haven’t talked to in months.
What else can I do after that train wreck of a dinner besides try to date a handsome vampire?
Only, my character wears the wrong dress to Hot Dracula’s club and he picks another girl.
