Submitting To My Stepbrothers novel Chapter 88

17: Tristan.

My hand balls into a shaking fist as I look around and realize

every man in the place is staring at her. Ogling that hot little tush

and adjusting themselves.

“Damn, is that really Amarie’s kid?” one of them says to his

friend, smacking his lips. “She grew up nice.”

“Jesus, you’re not kidding. Too bad she isn’t poor or I’d be

shelling out six figures for a ride of that.”

“Hell yeah, man. Twice on Sunday.”

I

They dissolve into laughter and the rage in my blood boils over. I

push back from my table, upsetting my scotch and grip the closest asshole by his collar. “Watch your fucking mouths,” I

growl, yanking the offender to his feet, watching the color drain

from his face when he sees who was within earshot. A family

friend of the Amaries, yes, but also the man who could buy and sell the entire club without blinking an eye. “Don’t look at her. Don’t ever speak about her again or I’ll end you.”

The man starts to apologize, but changes his mind when he realizes several men are witnessing his humiliation, forcing him to double down. “Right. Like you wouldn’t pay to hit that,

17. Tristan

Hemsworth.”

It burns worse, because he’s right.

Not only would I pay, but I did. Eagerly. Anything she wanted.

All so she would give me her perfect touch. Her time and

attention.

And God, I would do it all over again, wouldn’t I?

Still, there’s no way I’m letting this pissant get away with talking

about Lia in public like she’s an object. That’s not happening.

But just as I rear back with a fist, intending to plow it into his

smug face, I hear Lia’s voice behind me.

“Tristan!” I glance back over my shoulder to find her visibly

alarmed, standing among the patio lechers, pool water dripping

down her young body. “S–stop. What are you doing?”

“Go back to the pool,” I growl through my teeth.

“No.” She pads closer, barefoot, attempting to pry me and the

man apart, no idea that she’s being gawked at in her sorry

excuse for a bathing suit. “Stop this, Tristan. No fighting.” Her

breath hitches, tears turning her eyes to twin blue pools. “Y–your

promised you were managing your stress-

“Don’t do that,” I snap. “Don’t pretend like you give a shit. That

17: Tristan.

ship has sailed.”

Lia flinches and drops her hands, bottom lip trembling as she backs away. What the hell? Is she playing mind games with me? This girl made me believe she cared, then ripped the rug out from under my feet. And she has the nerve to appear hurt by my

harshness?

Still, when she turns and runs off, around the side of the clubhouse, my pounding heart gives me no choice but to follow.

I don’t care that she broke me in half, I loathe seeing her upset

and I refuse to be the cause.

I let go of the pissant and start to follow Lia, until he says,

“Damn, maybe Hemsworth is already hitting that?” His face is bright red from being manhandled, but he’s not listening to his

friend’s advice about not provoking me. “Making the Forbes list

gets you the best pussy, I guess.”

Without missing a beat, I take one step and headbutt him,

breaking his nose and dropping him to the ground, unconscious.

“Anyone else have something to say?” I roar.

“No, Hemsworth.”

“He was out of line, Hemsworth.”

“I don’t even know him very well.”

17: Tristan.

Disgusted by the utter cowardice, I shake off the whole situation

and follow after Lia, desperate to see her and apologize for

snapping. She doesn’t deserve that. She must have been

terrified at the prospect of not attending college with all of her

friends. Forget what that would have done to her reputation.

How can I blame her for finding a way to pay tuition? How can I

blame her for taking aim at an easy target?

17: Tristan

Her mouth pushes up against mine from below, then higher when she rises up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around my neck. I’m not expecting the kiss, it shocks me to my core, but my reaction to it is no surprise. I’m a fiend for this girl. My dick is in launch position like the space shuttle, my tongue eagerly

Tristan

tasting her mouth, my hands reuniting with the taut curve of her

butt cheeks, giving them one hungry squeeze, before making one last–ditch effort to back off. To do the right thing.

She doesn’t let me.

Never taking her mouth off mine, Lia perches a knee on my hip and uses it as leverage to squirm up the front of my body, manacling her legs around my waist, our mouths turning wild. Tongues clashing and smoothing, lips slanting. I’m a man who never expected to see the sun again and suddenly finds himself on a white–sand beach, my obsession with Lia giving me no choice but to take, to kiss her back with every ravenous notion inside of me, my fingers untying her bikini top in back, tossing it away so I can rake my tongue across her perky little nipples.

“Tristan,” she whines, head falling back. “How can you think I don’t really want you?” Her dazed bedroom eyes lock on mine, her pussy rubbing, rubbing on my erect dick. “Fuck me, Big Daddy,” she whines. “I need your come so bad.”

“No…” I search for my conscience, but it’s diminished in the path of her sensuality. In the path of my devotion to her. “Lia, you

don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she sobs, dropping her right hand to my belt, tearing

leather through buckle, button through hole. “You’ll believe me

when you feel how wet I am.”

17: Tristan.

“You were swimming,” I say raggedly, sucking her nipples into

my mouth, one by one.

“No!” She slaps me across the face. “It’s for you.”

“Liar,” I bite out, directly against her lips, losing control. Yeah, it’s gone. She’s a little brat who has slapped her Big Daddy and now she needs secret punishing. I jerk down my zipper, using the stiff head of my cock to shove aside the crotch of her bathing suit bottoms, finding her warm and soaked, her little hole

clenching excitedly.

What if…what if she’s really wet for me?

No. No, I refuse to be a fool again.

I’ve known from the beginning there is only one way I get to tap a beauty like this–and it’s money. “A million dollars,” I say thickly, working in the first few inches of my dick, a groan building in my chest. Tight. So fucking tight. “I’ll give you a million dollars a ride. Just don’t leave me high and dry, baby. I need it. I need this pussy.” I thrust all the way in and she whimpers, even as her eyes cloud over with dismay. Dismay that is quickly gone once I start to bounce her, rifling up into her hot

channel with animalistic bucks of my hips.

Using my shoulders as a hand–hold, she leans back, giving me a view of my thick man’s shaft, surrounded by salt and pepper

17: Tristan.

hair, driving into her tiny blonde sex, her soaked bathing suit panties pushed just to the right. It’s enough to send me racing for the peak, grunting, sweating, yanking her up and down on my veiny shaft, her ass cheeks clutched in my hands.

“Fuck,” I push between my teeth, sliding my right hand over slightly to finger her back entrance. “Two million for the ass.

Ten. I’ll do anything.”

Lia molds our fronts together again, rasping in my ear, “You get

it for free, Big Daddy.”

Ah, Jesus. I’m jackhammering her now, her dangling heels hitting off the backs of my knees, my pants down around my ankles. My balls are heavier than boulders and despite my common sense, possessiveness is turning like a crank in my chest. My gut. Claim, claim, claim.