Page 17 of Beautiful Desire
Since it’s a little after seven in the evening by the time I get to the store, it’s thankfully not busy. Today has been a long-ass day. First, with a shift at the bookstore this morning, then I went to the library to study and do my homework for the week. Not to mention, I’m fucking starving because the only thing I’ve had to eat all day is a protein shake before work and a disgusting granola bar I got from the snack bowl in the back at work,andI haven’t been to the gym because there wasn’t any time. The last thing I should be doing is fetching Georgia’s groceries for her—and paying for them—like I’m her little bitch, but alas, here I am,because I’m not in the mood to deal with her fucking attitude if I come home empty-handed.
Tomorrow will be even busier than today, so after I grab the diet Dr. Pepper and paper towels, I decide to pick up a few things for me too. It’s probably a good idea to get in the habit of packing a lunch and a few snacks to take with me, since I’m ballin’ on a tight budget these days. This is the first time in my life I’ve had to be frugal. Zero out of ten, don’t fucking recommend. This shit is not fun. Now that I’m broke, I realize how much I took for granted before it was all ripped away from me.
Ordering food, for example. I’d have lunch delivered to my office damn near every day, and never even thought twice about it. Granted, I always charged it to the company card, but even if I used my own money, it wouldn’t have mattered. Even if I could afford to order food, with how small Blossom Beach is, I can’t imagine many places offer delivery, and Door Dash probably isn’t even a thing.
Once I’ve got everything, I get in line for the only register open. There’re three people in front of me, and the cashier is slow as shit. They don’t even offer self-checkout.Good god,I can’t fucking wait to get back to Charleston. It’s like stepping back in time being here.
I amnotmade for this kind of living. Fletcher St. James should not be packing his fucking lunch and picking up groceries, like an errand boy.
After about five minutes, the line finally moves, and I’m able to set my stuff on the conveyor belt. At this rate, I’ll be here all goddamn night, so I pull out my phone while I wait, clenching my jaw when I notice another message from Georgia.What could she possibly want now?Heaving a sigh, I click on the notification.
Georgia: Too bad you aren’t here to remove all this lace with your teeth. *wink emoji*
What the fuck?
There’s a picture attached, but it won’t load because the internet in here is fucking trash. I read the message again, then reread our conversation right above it, the blood whooshing in my ears. The picture finally loads after another minute, and as soon as I see what it is, I somehow manage to choke on my own spit, barking out a cough while closing out of the message in a hurry, fumbling with the lock button. Realizing where I’m at, I shove the phone in my pocket and glance over my shoulder at the person behind me before turning my head to the woman in front of me, and luckily, neither of them are paying any attention.
Heat spreads in my groin and through my veins, and it becomes a challenge to not pop a boner right here in line. By the time I’m walking out of the store, groceries in hand, I can’t even recall paying for them because the only thing I can focus on is that damn text. I didn’t even get a good look because I was too worried about somebody else seeing it, but that’s about to change now that I’m in the car again.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out I’m not the person she meant to send this to, and a better man would probably delete it instead of gawking, but I never claimed to be a better man, and like hell am I not going to appreciate the sexy woman filling my screen, even if she’s my stepsister and seeing her like this is fifty shades of fucked up.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, Georgia’s wearing nothing but tiny black lace. Her long, light brown hair is pulled up in a clip, with only a few strands framing her face, honey-colored eyes looking right at the camera, giving the illusion that she’s looking right into my soul. She’s biting down on her pouty bottom lip and the faintest of smirks is tugging on the corner of her mouth. With her head tilted back and slightly to the side, all I can think about is brushing mynose along the column of her throat, inhaling her sweet scent, and dragging my tongue greedily along her neck up to her jaw, nipping at the flesh and feeling her body tremble against mine.
The strappy lace bra pushes up her huge tits, and my mouth waters as I imagine burying my face between her cleavage. It’s sheer enough that I can see her nipples, and a tingle travels down my spine as I notice the silver jewelry on either side of the hardened buds.
My cock is stiff and throbbing behind my jeans as my eyes dip even lower, taking in the rest of Georgia’s body. An array of faded white stretch marks decorate her soft, round stomach and delicious love handles. As I rake my gaze even lower, sticky arousal drips from the tip of my cock. The straps of her thong sit high on her thick waist, and my hand itches to grab onto them and pull her sexy fucking body against mine. Groaning, I palm my erection through my pants as I look at the area where her thigh meets her groin. Not only does the material barely hide anything, but like the bra, her panties are damn-near see-through, giving me a mouthwatering view of her pussy…and the piercing sitting right above her clit.
Fuck, Georgia’s body is a fucking work of art.Seeing her likethisjust confirms my attraction. What I wouldn’t give to remove that lace with my teeth before properly appreciating every inch of her with my hands, and my lips, and my tongue. I have no doubt she tastes fucking exquisite.
A car alarm sounds, pulling my attention from the phone in my hand and the raging hard-on I’ve got going on in my pants, reminding me I’m still sitting in the grocery store parking lot. Huffing out an amused breath, I toss my phone in the cup holder and back out of my spot. When I park in the driveway of the house, I grab the groceries before sauntering up to the front door, my skin buzzing with excitement. Georgia and that picture has me all wound up, and I can’t wait to push her buttons, likeshe’s damn well pushed mine. Stepping into the house, I drop the bags on the kitchen counter just as Georgia strolls out of the laundry room, a basket of clean clothes in her hands. She’s wearing a baggy black t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, and I swallow roughly, wondering if she’s still wearing the lace underneath, or if she took it off after she sent that picture.
“Oh, you’re home,” she offers blandly as she places the basket on top of the table. “There’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
I snort as I open the pantry to put away the groceries. “As a matter of fact, I’mstarvingafter that trip to the store.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Georgia deadpans, and I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes. “It must be exhausting having to pick up items at the grocery store like a functioning adult.”
Huffing out a small chuckle, I shake my head, sauntering out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Coming to a stop beside her, I dip my head down and bring my mouth to her ear as I say, “You’d never believe what I saw while I was there.”
A half-folded towel in hand, Georgia turns her head toward me before shoving me in the chest with her shoulder. “Ever heard of a little thing called personal space?” she spits out, brows furrowed. A grin splits my face, which only deepens the scowl etched into her features. “Get on with it, Fletcher. Are you going to finish what you were saying or…?”
My body’s vibrating with both arousal and amusement as I grab the phone from my pocket and unlock it, pulling up the picture. Allowing myself another moment to admire it, I turn the screen toward her. “Is this sexy little lace number a thank you for going to the store for you?” I ask. “Because if so, I’ll gladly run errands for you any time, Peach.”
Aside from the stiffness in her shoulders, Georgia doesn’t outwardly react to the picture as she drags her gaze from thephone up to my face. “You do realize we’re family, and you saying that to me is fucking weird, right?”
“Says the one who sent a nude to her stepbrother,” I throw back, lip ticked up in a smirk.
“Wasn’t a nude, and?—”
“Pretty damn close.”
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Regardless, it obviously wasn’t meant for you, and any logical person would’ve deduced that and moved on with their life, but leave it to you to make a big deal about it.”
“Or maybe itwasmeant for me, but you’re too shy to admit it now that we’re face to face.” I shrug, stuffing my hands in my pockets as she glowers at me. I know it wasn’t meant for me, but giving her shit is bringing me joy, so I’m going to do it.
Georgia stands taller, jutting out her chin as the corner of her lip twitches with a grin she’s trying to hide. “Curious, what exactly about me gives off the impression I would be shy about, literally, anything? If I’m gonna do something, I’m doing it with my full chest.”
The picture pops in my mind again—how sexy herfull chestlooked behind the barely-there lingerie—and I can’t help myself. “I’m curious about something too…” I murmur, reaching out and pinching the hem of her shirt. “Are you still wearing lingerie? Love the piercings, by the way.”
