Page 73 of Jealous Stepbrother
It’s Saturday.
He feeds me strawberries dipped in chocolate, makes me coffee exactly the way I like it. He pampers me until I’m lulled, safe, loved.
Then he drops the news.
“Need to fly to San Francisco, baby. Been putting it off. We’ll head out this afternoon and fly back on Monday.”
“What? No, I can’t come. I have dinner with Mom tonight.”
Storm clouds darken his face. “Scarlett?—”
“No, you can’t just drop news like that on me,” I protest, shaking my head, staunchly clinging to the one sliver of control I have left. “I’ve put my mother off long enough. I’m not pushing it back again.”
His expression turns even more thunderous. “I don’t like this, Scarlett. I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“You won’t be leaving me alone.” I fold my arms, stubborn. “It’s my mom. She’s not a threat. Not everything is about control. You’re going and I’m staying right here. Just two nights. On my own.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “You’re mine. Nothing about you is ‘on your own.’”
“Asher.” I soften my tone, brushing my fingers over his forearm. “Please. Just… let me have this.”
For a long moment, I think he’ll snap.
Push, shove, bend me over and fuck me when his possessiveness rides him. But finally—finally—he exhales. His shoulders ease a fraction. “Fine,” he bites out. “Do what you want.”
Relief trickles through me, shaky but real.
I kiss him quick, before he can change his mind, and watch him walk out the door, his stylish weekender in hand.
I’m in the shower when I hear the lock click again.
My heart jumps into my throat one second before a shadow looms through the door.
Asher strides back into the bathroom, drops his bag, and cages me against the wall with a ferocity that steals my breath.
“Asher! What?—”
“I’ve changed to a later flight. I didn’t account for you saying no to me, baby. Now I need more than a goodbye kiss to get me through the weekend.” His mouth crushes mine, kisses me hungry and desperate, as though he’s been gone for years instead of minutes. His arms band around me, crushing me to his chest.
“Oh God, Asher, you’re getting drenched?—”
“Don’t care. Please, Scarlett. Turn around and give me that pussy. I need it.” His voice is ragged now, almost pleading.
“Yes,” I breathe. Then I brace my hands on the wall and offer my stepbrother my ass.
He fucks me fully dressed, like a wild animal, spewing dirty words and rough accusations of how insane I drive him. How he can’t live without me even for two days.
And when he makes me come, twice, his fingers tangle in my hair, tugging my head back so I have no choice but to look intohis wild eyes. “I have a bad feeling. Don’t make me leave you here. Come with me.”
I laugh, brush it off. “You’ll be back before I even miss you.”
Eventually he leaves.
I potter around, tell myself I’m not missing him as much as I feared I would. Count the hours until I can get my mind taken off the sheer depths of my feeling for Asher Masterson.
One hour before dinner, before I sit to curl my hair, I head to Asher’s studio to charge my phone. I grimace when I realize he’s taken the charger we both use in this room.
Opening the drawer in his desk where I know he keeps the spare charger, I rummage through, then freeze when I hear a familiar crackle.
