Page 19 of Jealous Stepbrother (Jealous & Possessive #4)

KISS OF RUIN

Asher

D inner is a worse shit show than breakfast.

Scarlett thinks she’s being slick, pretending my hand on her knee is nothing, pretending her smile isn’t tight every time I touch her under the table. But I see the pulse jumping in her throat.

I feel the shiver that betrays her when my thumb circles her bare skin. It’s a bittersweet torture but it’s the only thing that keeps me half-sane as the evening unfolds.

We’re at some oceanside restaurant, all white tablecloths and candlelight, and of course half the goddamn country club crowd has decided to show up too. Family friends. Acquaintances. People who like to keep score.

We’ve somehow ended up at the largest table in the place with rich assholes and their trophy wives and kids.

“Sunday brunch at the club,” someone suggests to Annette, then glances at my girl. “Bring Scarlett along. There’ll be plenty of company her age. Some of the boys are back from school…”

I don’t even hear the rest because my vision tunnels.

My father is watching me. Not them, not Scarlett. Me. Gauging. Waiting. Seeing how long before I snap.

Scarlett doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t shut it down. Doesn’t tell them she has no interest in their idiot sons with their soft hands and fucking trust funds.

My jaw locks so tight it aches.

I can’t hide the fury.

My fingers flex on her thigh, digging in just enough to make her eyes dart to me, a silent plea not to cause a scene.

Annette notices anyway. “Asher?” she asks gently, concern lacing her tone. “Is everything okay?”

I can feel Dad’s eyes drilling into my skull.

I push my chair back, the scrape loud enough to hush the table. “Absolutely. I have a few calls to make.” The lie tastes bitter, but it’s better than the truth that’s burning my throat.

Better than the scene I’ll cause by grabbing Scarlett, throwing her over my shoulder like the Neanderthal she accused me of and stalking off into an impenetrable cave.

I toss my napkin down and glance at Dad, who’s still staring at me like he knows every filthy thought I’ve ever had. “I’ll see you at home.”

I summon a tight smile for Annette but I don’t look at her daughter because I know I’ll lose the last nerve I’m hanging onto, but I feel her eyes follow me. I feel her pulse beating in time with mine even as I stride out into the night air.

By the time I drop behind the wheel of my car, my hands are fists on the steering wheel, my mind already working through the ways I’ll make her say the words I need to hear.

A half-crazed laugh barks out of my chest. Because, yeah, it’s almost hilarious the absolute havoc I’ll wreck on anyone who even breathes on my girl.

She’s not meeting anyone for fucking brunch. Not one fucktard boy.

She’ll promise me that.

And I know exactly how to extract that promise.

I’ll have her on her knees, lips wrapped around my cock, until she admits she belongs to me.

I’ll bend her over my bed, pound her deep and raw, and make her swear she won’t even look at another man.

I’ll keep her there until her voice breaks, until the only name she remembers is mine.

By the time I’m finished, she’ll promise me anything.

And the best part? She’ll mean it.

Scarlett

Later

The house sighs around me, a gentle symphony of old floorboards settling, ocean wind brushing the eaves, a distant murmur of our parents’ voices drifting down the hall.

I toss, turn, stare at the dark ceiling.

My body’s humming like a live wire. Every nerve ending remembers the weight of his touch and his stare over dinner, the rough edge in his voice when he stormed off.

When he left the table, something inside me snapped, like I’d been severed from a limb I hadn’t even realized I depended on until it was gone.

The rest of the evening dragged in his absence, each minute heavier than the last.

Mom kept probing gently, asking if everything was all right, her smile stretching tighter and tighter at the edges.

I fed her excuses and muttered reassurances, but her eyes lingered too long, searching for cracks I didn’t hide very well.

And Victor.

He just looked at me across the table like I was a half-broken puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve. That look burrowed under my skin, left me wondering what happened between father and son while Mom and I were in town.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m barefoot and padding down the hall. Tell myself the need to know what happened this afternoon is the reason I’m going, not…not…

I knock once.

The door swings open without a sound.

Asher’s barefoot, bare-throated, the lamplight turning his eyes to something dangerous and winter-bright.

The second the door clicks shut, my back meets wood and his palm finds the curve of my waist, a quiet brand.

“You’re fucking late,” he snarls, his voice a furious rumble.

“How can I be late when I wasn’t even coming?” I lie.

“You tell me, because here you are.”

I hate that my body leans into him.

I hate that he smells like salt and cedar and the memory of last night. I hate that when his thumb drags a line at my hip, my breath goes shallow and the rest of the world falls away like a stage set.

“Scarlett,” he warns softly, like I’ve already disobeyed him.

“Don’t—” I start, but his mouth is already on mine, patient and merciless at once, coaxing and then taking, until the word dissolves.

He doesn’t hurry, which is somehow worse. His hands map my spine, my ribs, the line of my shoulder, and I know he’s memorizing topography he plans to redraw. My stepbrother’s going to break me and rebuild me the way he chooses.

I should say stop, tell him this is insane.

Instead, I kiss him back like someone who knows exactly where she’s going.

We stagger toward the bed.

The old house complains under our feet, and we both freeze, listening for footsteps in the hall. None come. His mouth curves against mine, wicked, eager—before he lifts me and licks my mouth with raw decadence like I’m the dinner he refused to eat tonight.

When I’m breathless and whimpering, he pulls back and his knuckles skim my cheek.

His gaze searches mine.

The room is quiet enough to hear our unsteady breathing.

“Get on your knees,” he growls.

The sound of it punches through me, heat and dread tangling low in my belly.

“Wait.” I manage to whisper even though my throat is tight. “You need to tell me what happened tonight, at dinner…and this afternoon…with your dad.”

His eyes blaze. “What happened is he sniffed too close to the truth. What happened tonight is I nearly lost my shit at the thought of you going to brunch tomorrow with a bunch of boys who’ll look at you like you’re free game.

” His hand clamps around my jaw, forcing me to hold his stare.

“Just so we’re clear, that’s happening over my dead body. ”

My heart knocks hard against my ribs. “You can’t control who?—”

“Can’t I?” His mouth curves, all sharp teeth and fury.

I swallow hard, pulse stuttering under his grip. “Asher, you’re overreacting?—”

“Overreacting?” His gaze is wild now, furious and unflinching.

“You think tonight was fun for me? You think I can watch you across a table and pretend you’re not mine?

” His voice drops to a growl, vibrating with something rawer than anger.

“You still don’t get it, princess. You’ll learn. On your fucking knees.”

I hesitate too long.

His brows lower, and then his hand leaves my jaw only to wrap firmly around the back of my neck, guiding me down, forcing me.

I tremble as the polished wood presses against my knees, his tall, dark frame looming over me.

“Good girl,” he rasps, tugging at the waistband of his sweats until his cock springs free, thick and already hard, the flushed head inches from my mouth. “Now open up. Prove to me you understand who you belong to.”

Heat scorches my face but my lips part, and when I hesitate, his thumb drags across them again, smearing the taste of him there.

“Take me, sis,” he orders. “Every inch. Don’t stop until I tell you.”

I lean forward, wrapping my lips around him, and the groan that rips from his chest vibrates all the way down my spine. His hand fists in my hair instantly, guiding me, rough, firm, controlling.

He tilts his head back, a savage sound spilling from his throat as the filthy glurck glurck glurck of sucking my stepbrother’s cock fills the room.

“That’s it,” he growls. “God, Scarlett…look at you. Kneeling for me like you were made for this.” His hips flex, pushing deeper, making my throat stretch around him.

My eyes water, but the feral satisfaction in his gaze pins me in place.

“Maybe I’ll change my mind in the morning.

Let you show up to brunch tomorrow with my taste still dripping down your throat?

” he snarls, rocking into me harder now, punishing.

“You think I should let those dicktards take one look at you and know that tonight, right here, you choked on my cock until you couldn’t breathe? ”

I moan around him, the sound vibrating along his length, and his grip in my hair tightens almost painfully. His breath breaks in a ragged curse.

“Yeah, that’s it. Take it, baby. Take every inch.” His thrusts get harder, sharper, my lips stretched wide, tears pricking my lashes. He looks down at me like I’m his deepest torment and his highest high, and his voice breaks low and vicious when he snarls, “Mine. Every bit of you, mine.”

I whimper around him, thighs clenching, shame and arousal a molten knot in my chest and in my drenched pussy.

He slows suddenly, pulling me back by my hair, forcing me to look up, strands sticking to my wet cheeks.

“I’ve changed my mind. No fucking way are you going to brunch,” he says, voice a dark vow.

“You’re staying home, I’m going to wreck you from your beautiful head to your dainty fucking toes.

I’ll dick your throat raw and leave you shaking.

And you’ll know every time you swallow that it’s me inside you, not them. ”