Page 33 of Wanting What’s Wrong

I’m already moving through the crowd as the first notes of the song start to play.

She’s a good girl. I sense it. Sweet. Probably untouched from the blush on her cheeks and the way she’s holding her legs together. The filthy thoughts that tumble through my head are beyond any porn I’ve ever seen.

She’s different. Fuck, I’m different. She’s changed me in the thirty seconds I’ve been staring at her. I want to make love to her slow and easy then spit on her asshole and tell her to beg me to bury my meat in her ass down to the balls while she’s wearing my belt around her throat.

I can’t stop looking at her lips as she starts to hum to the melody. Her eyelids flutter as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

So fucking sexy. Her plump pink lips match her plump tits and her crazy lush hips. One pout from her and I’d give her the world. Crush any fucker that makes her frown. I’ll take her to heaven then fuck her back into hell.

I’d settle between those thick thighs until she was a sopping wet mess with burn marks on her alabaster skin from my stubble.

She’s your stepsister , douche. Stop.

And young.

Fucking young.

Doesn’t matter. She’s a fucking wrecking ball destroying all the anger and resentment I’ve held on to like a life preserver forever .

At least, for her. I still hate everyone else. Every thing else. But, Lula…

Fuck, even her fucking name wrecks me. Guts me. I want to say it over and over like a fucking chant.

I’m already fucking gone when the first words of the song drip from her glossy lips and every wall I’ve built around myself crumbles.

Tell me something, girl

Are you happy in the modern world?

Or do you need more?

Is there something else you’re searchin’ for?

That lost unsteadiness evaporates as she closes her eyes and the lilt of her voice spreads through me like sweet poison. The song stings me in places that have never felt anything. She raises one hand along with the high note, tightening my balls against my body.

Tell me something, boy

Aren’t you tired trying to fill that void?

Or do you need more?

Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore?

This is going to fuck things up. The things I want to do to my new stepsister but it’s a force larger than myself. As I move through the tables, winding like a viper toward my prey, my eyes lock on the ‘V’ between her legs.

I imagine throwing her down, cutting every shred of her clothing from her curves, grabbing her behind the knees and spreading her wide so I see it all.

That slick pink slit, that puckered little asshole.

My fire’s never been lit like this and I start to wonder if the bartender slipped something in my water shot just for shits and grins.

The irresponsible desire to defile her, to have her sticky and stuffed full of my cock as I pump through my own jizz to fill her up again, raw and rough, is all-consuming like wildfire on the horizon .

I imagine her calling for me. Begging me in slutty, needy moans, leaving all that sweetness behind and turning into my little wet fuck doll, greedy for what only I can give her. Slapping that juicy little cunt while she calls me Daddy and begs me to fuck her.

I’m off the deep end, watch as I dive in…

Fuck, this girl is destroying me right here in front of every-fucking-one. Every word, every note delivered directed into the ball of hate in my chest, destroying it.

We’re far from the shallow now…

Her lashes flutter then her eyes connect to mine. I’m standing at the edge of the stage in the middle of it all and I don’t give a fuck. She looks like she was born to be on stage but not this shitty one.

She holds the microphone like she should be holding my dick. Chubby little fingers wrapped around, barely circling the girth.

Her tumbles of red curls split over her bare shoulders. That white blouse barely covering her voluptuous tits that are making my mouth water.

Three of the dancers catch my eye sitting at a table to the left.

They’re throwing back shots with a few regulars but they’re mocking Lula.

Pretending they’re singing into invisible microphones.

Only, they are pumping their hands back and forth like they’re giving head, their tongues pulsing out on their cheeks as the others laugh.

Oh. Fuck. No.

A low growl rumbles in my chest, constricting my throat as she finishes the last of the song and I’ve never heard anything more beautiful in my life. She’s got a voice like an angel. My angel. And this bullshit is going to stop right fucking now.

She kills the end of the song on a note that gives me fucking shivers and nearly stops my damn heart.

There’s applause, her mother is doing this little bunny hop while she claps, pointing to herself and telling everyone Lula is her daughter while my father sits at a table, oblivious to it all, tapping on his phone.

“We should invite her to chubby chasers’ night,” one of the girls says.

Then a gold chain wearing dude named Sam—a regular with a wife and six kids at home—chimes in, “Yeah, fucking nasty—”

He doesn’t get to finish. I barrel over there and flip the four top over, laying him out with one solid fist to his jaw knocking a tooth onto the floor as blood splatters over his bottom lip.

I’m not one to hit a woman but it takes Tiny and James to keep me from twisting the pink haired bitch dancer’s head off.

“Not a party until shit gets broken,” I hear Tiny’s voice through my rage as he pulls me up, panting and growling and then leans next to my ear. “Dude, get it together. What the fuck is going on with you? You’re sister looks scared shitless. Chill, man.”

Anger pulses through me as the trio of girls and the three patrons are picked up by the wait staff. My father shoots me a ‘ what the fuck ’ look but the only thing that stops me from pounding the rest of their heads into the floor is Lula.

The look of fear and horror on her face stops me cold.

She is scared.

Of me.

My fists ball so tight my knuckles burn. The girls skitter away, giving Lula shitty looks as Leroy settles the crowd and calls for a time out, which as the girls and regulars here know, means no girls on stage but instead, patrons can take the dance floor and pay for the girls to dance with them.

He puts on some fucking song I’ve heard in here a thousand times as I watch Tiny tell a couple of the dancers to take the guy I almost knocked out over to the bar.

Smart. Because if Lula wasn’t looking at me like a scared bunny, I’d finish what I started .

Still, the confidence she had on stage when she sang is all but gone. Her arms are wrapped around her middle as her mother slips over to give my father his own private lap dance, leaving her daughter standing alone like a fucking kitten in the middle of the freeway.

People are looking at her. Patrons and dancers. They’re whispering and laughing and I’ve fucking had it.

They want to look?

I’ll give them something to look at. My dick agrees and there’s no help for him now.

I’m as hard as a titanium rod as I walk over and take my stepsister’s hand and lead her onto the dance floor.

This is going to end badly but I don’t give a shit.

“Come on, Lula, I’m Scotch, your new brother. Fuck all of them. Let’s dance.”