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Prologue
Ignacio
“Morning,” my stepdad, Everett, says upon entering the kitchen, his deep voice as smooth as the sweetest honey.
“Morning,” I say, not looking up from the table.
“Do you not have school today?”
I stare up from my bowl of cereal, my eyes landing on his bare back. He's well defined and every muscle bulges whenever he makes the slightest move. It's torture. So are those maroon sweatpants he's wearing, the way they grip his thighs and sit low on his hips, the string dangling in front of his bulge. The man's a fucking wet dream and you'd never guess he's pushing fifty. I'm still convinced it's a lie. Either that, or he's fucking Dr. Daddy Cullen from Twilight.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head, my mouth going dry as he walks closer while sipping his coffee. Dark liquid drips down his mouth, landing over his smooth, sculpted chest.
“Someone's having issues keeping things in his mouth this morning.” I bet he could hold my cock in there better though. I'd make sure of it. I shove my spoon in my mouth to keep myself from making the statement more inappropriate than it already is.
Sometimes my mouth gets away from me and Everett will shake it off, laughing before changing the subject. He doesn't ever take me seriously, and neither does anyone else around here. Especially my dad. It's better they don't. They keep thinking I'm innocent and fragile. My father says to never put your weakness out on the table but his way of thinking is wrong.
I prefer to let everyone portray me as helpless and vulnerable, so they don't see anything coming the moment I'm ready to strike. Being only eighteen and on the smaller side leads people to underestimate me even more. They shouldn't. Not when my uncle taught me how to kill a man with my bare hands at the age of ten.
Everett doesn't know anything about my family's background. He should have run when he had a chance. Instead, he made the biggest mistake of his life by marrying my mom. My dad has a soft spot when it comes to her. Always has. He wants her to be happy even if it's not with him, and he thinks having Everett around puts less of a target on our backs. People don't make the connection between my dad and me as easily, assuming I'm another man's son. A straitlaced banker who’s never so much as jaywalked in his life isn’t someone to be concerned about. Yes, my dad did a background check on him. No one can come near us without one.
All his precautions are to keep me safe. Not because he loves me but because he needs someone to be his protégé, and he'll do anything to keep my uncle out of his position.
“I guess I'm a little clumsy this morning.” His cup hits the counter with a loud thud and he reaches for a napkin, his waist twisting, putting a bit of his ass on display.
Fuck me.
I shouldn't be having these thoughts about my stepdad. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop imagining him pinning me to the wall, ripping down my pants, and spanking me for being a sarcastic shit. I hate how patient he is and how he doesn't scold me or show any sign of anger when I act out. Not even so much as a furrowed brow.
“Along with every other morning,” I retort.
He huffs. “Hey, watch it, drinking coffee is a difficult task.” He walks to the table and the chair scrapes against the floor as he drags it out.
“I don't even know how you do it.” I wrinkle my nose.
“What do you mean?” He takes the seat in front of me, running a hand through his thick brown hair. My mom gets to be touched by those fingers every day. Does she realize how lucky she is and is she aware of what a shit son I am? I want her to be happy, I do, but with anyone else but him.
“Drink that disgusting crap.” I point to the coffee, fake gagging.
“Easy. Like this,” he says before taking another sip, his steel blue eyes humorous.
I shudder, gritting my teeth. “It's awful.”
“Your mom said when you were younger you used to ask for a sip of her drink all the time.”
“Yeah, until I finally had one. I haven't touched it since. I'll stick to my Mountain Dew.”
“That stuff is horrible for you, and it'll rot your teeth as fast as your insides.”
I shrug and swirl my spoon in my milk. “You know what they say,what doesn't kill you, makes you strongeror some shit.”
“I'm sure that statement doesn't mean what you think it does.”
“It means what I want it to mean, and good to know you care so much about my well-being.” Too bad it isn't enough. If only he was concerned about my other needs as well.
For fuck’s sake, pull yourself together and stop being such a pervert.
“Of course I do. You're my stepson. It's not like I have any other kids.”
