I head back to base, already loving the distraction she's giving me.
Too bad there's another one to get through first before I haul her into bed. It's gonna be rough getting through this bullshit with mom's rich new sugar daddy tomorrow. She screamed at me earlier today, all but insisted I get my ass over to his mansion tomorrow to meet him and his kid, some bland little rich girl in journalism or something.
Blowing off some steam between the sheets helps me forget about the latest crap my shell of a mother wants to sling in all directions. It helps me forget about the endless duties I've still got here Stateside as a SEAL, all the things I've done in the service that keeps me wondering about my karma debt when it's late and lonely.
I can't get too attached. I don't let my mind wander too much. I never, ever do.
Delia's just another fuck, after all, even if she's the hottest one I've had for months. I shower quickly before heading for my bunk, careful to charge my phone for tomorrow.
I resist the urge to jerk my dick off in the shower, thinking about that little sound she made for me when I sent her to heaven, or how fucking wet she was, grinding on my hand.
I'm saving everything for tomorrow, for her. She acts like she's never fucked a real man before, and if that's true, I'll leave her with something she'll never forget.
Sometimes I almost feel bad about my fuck-and-release policy, but I don't do relationships when the US Navy owns my balls twenty-four-seven. There's no time for that shit.#p#分页标题#e#
If I leave the girls I fuck breathless and begging for more, it's not my problem. That's for the next guy in line to worry about, the poor bastard who'll never be able to bring them off like I do.
My guts churn when I pull up to the place, straight through the huge iron gate. I know the new rich cocksucker mom's hooked up with is loaded, but it's hard for me to believe just how rich this prick really is.
There's a guardhouse and everything. The slim, prissy older man inside looks like he wants to search my truck for an improvised explosive. I flash my badge, and Jeeves looks closely at the name, giving me a sour nod and waving me through.
Fucking prick. All of them.
It's just a matter of time before mom flames out and hits rehab again, sending the executive running to his next trophy wife. He probably thinks he's hit the jackpot with a washed up Hollywood starlet, but he'll find out real soon what he's gotten himself into.
I pass the keys to a servant playing valet when I pull up to the curb. The place is beautiful, high on the cliffs overlooking the roaring Pacific, probably even a sexy view of the entire Bay Area if I climb up to the bluffs.
It's just a few miles down the road from the party I crashed last night. Good. Maybe I'll be able to hit Delia's pussy sooner if she lives in the same rich neighborhood.
The house is more like a palace. My new stepdad has taste, I'll give the jackass that.
I walk through the double door entrance and stop when I see the huge crystal chandelier and sprawling staircases. It's like walking onto one of mom's sets, or maybe one of those historic homes she used to drag me to as a kid for charity shit before she went off the rails.
“Christopher!” I hear a squeal, and turn around just in time before she hits me. “Oh my God, I thought you'd never come home, darling. Let me show you to your room.”
“Whatever,” I growl, pulling her off me after a quick squeeze. “Let's get this over with. There's something I've got planned tonight after dinner. I can't stay all evening.”
“As long as you're planning on coming home. This is your home now, Chris. I want you here for the summer. Every night away from those nasty, spartan army cots does wonders for your posture.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I follow her upstairs. “I'm a Navy SEAL. Sleeping anywhere that's not a dusty shithole or scraggly rocks feels pretty damned good.”
Her eyes narrow. She's probably scared my mouth's going to get me in trouble with sugar daddy. Fucking incredible seeing that worry from her, the woman who practically invented the modern bitch on the screen.
Miss Evangeline Cleveland, everybody's favorite sharp-tongued TV witch, lost her magic forever the night she stole her ex's car and drove it into a damned pond. I'm wondering if she's already fighting with billionaire boy like she did the body builder she shacked up with in my early teens. I tried to stay the fuck out of it then, everything except the dude's home gym.
“Here's your new stepsister's room,” mom says, giving the door furthest down the hall a shove. “She's downstairs right now with her father, waiting for us. Private bathroom inside, just like yours.”
A feminine flowery smell hits me in the face. It's breezy and borderline familiar. My dick throbs, and I swear it was in the air last night when I had Delia against the wall, making her come on my cock through her beach shorts.