How old is she? I can’t remember what my father said. Just that he was in love, getting married, and she has a sixteen—she’s sixteen. A year younger than me. My father works a lot and is always away. I overheard my father telling Tiffany that she could quit her job at the diner if she wanted to travel with him. Does that mean she’ll go with my dad and leave Raylee here alone with me? Fuck, I hope so.
“Ah, yeah.” I drop the sandwich on the counter and wipe my hand off on my jeans. I take her outstretched hand in mine and shake it.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Colt.” A blush the color of her lips covers her cheeks, and she laughs nervously. “Sorry.” She averts her eyes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. I have the urge to touch it and see if it’s as soft as it looks. “Do you go by Colt? Or only Colton?”
She can call me whatever the fuck she wants. “Either is fine.” I clear my throat, trying to ignore my hard cock straining against my zipper. She pulls on her hand, reminding me I still have a hold of it, and I let go like she burned me.
“Well, we better get going,” Tiffany states, making me jump. I had forgotten that we weren’t alone. “Colton has to get to practice, and we have a dress fitting in thirty minutes.”
Raylee spins around to face her mom, and her hair all but whips me in the face, giving me a whiff of strawberries. I almost come right then. My eyes fall to her heart-shaped ass, and I imagine yanking her jeans down, bending her over the counter, and dropping to my knees, eating her out as if she’s my last meal.
“I’ll walk you ladies to your car.” My father exits the room with them, his hand still in Tiffany’s.
Turning around, I face the white marble counter and pull out my phone from my back pocket. Typing out a message to one of my usual fucks.
Me: What are you doing later?
She responds immediately.
Her: Nothing. Why?
Me: Meet me after practice?
Her: Let me know when and where.
Great. I’m going to need to fuck something now that the bleach blonde has gotten me worked up.
“Colton?”
I jump at the sound of my father’s voice and turn around to see him now back in the kitchen. “Yeah?”
He levels me with a stare and speaks, “I saw the way you looked at her. Don’t you dare touch her.” Then he turns and walks out of the kitchen.
I follow him down the hallway and to his study. “Why didn’t you warn me?” I’m not going to pretend that didn’t just happen. My father gave me the sex talk last year after he found what he thought was the first girl I had ever had in my room. It’s safe to say he was late.
“What was there that needed warning?” he asks, sitting down at his desk.
My mouth falls open. “Seriously? Don’t pretend she’s not—”
“Don’t go there, son.” He shakes his head, interrupting me. “She’s sixteen. I’m forty-five. Not only is that illegal, but that’s also highly inappropriate. Plus, she’s going to be my stepdaughter.”
I go to open my mouth, and he adds, “And your stepsister.” He glares up at me. “So keep your hands to yourself and your dick in your pants.” With that, he dismisses me and starts working on his home computer.
I look over at Raylee sitting next to me in a white sundress, and it’s crazy how far we’ve come since that first day in this house. I became a raging dick to her. But she wasn’t as sweet as she put on that day either. No, she dished it back. And that is how my obsession with her started.
________________
AN HOUR LATER,their staff is handing out our desserts when Tiffany looks over at her daughter. “Raylee, honey, you’ve been quiet. Everything okay?”
“Fine, Mom,” she answers, not bothering to look up. I hide my smile behind the rim of my mimosa that I decided I needed after my glass of water was gone. Her phone goes off, signaling a text, and she pulls it out of her purse that hangs on the back of the chair.
I lean over to try to read it, but she locks the screen.
“Are you sure? You seem—” Her mother’s cell phone starts ringing. She picks it up off the table. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been expecting this call.” Her eyes go to my father, and he picks up his napkin, wiping his mouth. “We may be a little bit,” she adds.
“Excuse us,” he announces and then stands, walking out of the room with her.
I ignore that strange interaction and focus my attention on Raylee. Reaching under the table, I place my hand on her bare thigh.
