Thief:A Bad Boy Romance(98)

 

It’s thoughts like that that have me shivering when I feel his hand at the small of my back, guiding me back through the crowd. Dirty, wicked thoughts like the ones about Hunter Ryan running through my mind are why I can practically hear my heart beating in the silence of the elevator with him, back up the living quarters of the house. And it’s why I basically blurt out the world's quickest “goodnight” before I’m pushing him away and shutting myself away in my room.

 

It’s thoughts like that why I don’t even get my dress off before I’m hiking it up and laying back on my giant, cream-white, four post bed, and moaning as my fingers find me wet and ready. I’m sliding a finger inside, moaning at the fantasy as I lay sprawled on the bed; my regal, decent, D.C.-formal dress very indecently pushed up around my waist with my legs spread wide and my breath coming in gasps. I want to pretend it’s anything else in the world but him that I’m thinking about, but I can’t fool my body or the sinful thoughts rushing through me. I’m writhing as my fingers seek release — sweet, aching release from the horrible spell this man has on me.

 

The terrible, wicked, and disastrously horrible spell that my stepbrother somehow has on me.

 

And it’s inappropriate, scandalous, and wicked thoughts of Hunter Ryan, and all the things he did to me that night, that I’m thinking about as I go crashing over the edge, screaming my climax into the pillows as my whole body explodes.

 

 

 

 

 

8.

 

 

 

 

 

“Hunter, your cell phone.”

 

I glance up from my coffee to see my dad nodding at my phone pinging on the kitchen counter. He frowns and gives me a look. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to have that on active duty, son.”

 

“Huh, strange, I thought we were just having a little family breakfast,” I say with fake smile, mimicking his words from earlier when he marshaled Dexter and me over here from our apartment quarters in the other wing.

 

Dex snorts as my dad gives me another glare. “Watch it, Hunt.”

 

The phone pings again and I rise to snatch it off the counter. I glance down at the screen and groan.

 

I was wondering how long it’d take her to manage to weasel my new number off of some poor sap. “Her” being Anya, the ex. Ex with a capital E and the attitude to match. Anya the total psycho. Anya the poor little rich girl from the same circle of idiocy and shitheads I left behind when I joined the Marines.

 

I lied before, when I made the offhand comment to Maddie about “military family, dad served, I served”, because really, that's all bullshit. Well, yeah, my dad is obviously who he is, but where I come from, kids basically ride their parent’s coattails until that trust fund starts kicking back. I didn’t have to join the Marines at all. In fact, dad was actively against it the day I made the announcement just a week after we’d buried mom.

 

But fuck that, and fuck being one of the douchebags I went to private school with. Fuck being just one more rich kid son of a public figure, free to piss away my life doing whatever. And so I joined, and I did my tour.

 

But Anya is a throwback to those days before. Just one more daddy’s girl whose father works in the political machine of D.C. That whole privileged class of kids whose parents run things; the untouchables, the carefree.

 

Like I said, fuck that; I need direction and something good to hang on to. Except Anya is anything but “direction” and pretty much the opposite of “something good”. Party girl, rich girl, all around disaster.

 

That all said, I’m more tempted to call her back now than I ever have been since the break-up. Extremely tempted after last night and the near constant hard-on I’ve had ever since I walked in on Maddie in those fucking stockings.

 

There’s a mumbled “good morning” from the kitchen doorway, and the temptation roars like a fucking lion inside of me as I look up to see her shuffle into the kitchen, pajamas, bathrobe and all.

 

I mean, shit, that's how hard-up and pent up I am right now. A girl in a fucking bathrobe has my cock fully at attention in my suit. Yeah, I should definitely call Anya back, if for nothing else than to fuck tempting, untouchable, and totally off-limits Madison Adams out of my Goddamn system.

 

Except…shit. Except I know she’d be nothing like Madison. I know what that particular forbidden fruit tastes like — literally, actually, I think with a wicked grin — and everything else pales to it. I know Anya would be fun, but ultimately a ridiculous waste of my time.

 

‘Course, it's not like I can fuck Maddie either, so I guess I’m up shit creek right now.