Stepbrother Claims (His Twisted Game, Book Four)

 
 
 

Stepbrother Claims (His Twisted Game, Book Four)

by
Chloe Hawk

Copyright 2015, Chloe Hawk, all rights
reserved.
 
This book is a work of
fiction, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
 
All characters
depicted in this book are eighteen years of age or older.

 
 

COLE

 

 
I watched Avery leave my office that first morning, and it
took every ounce of self-control I had not to go after her.
 

Her tits and ass in that dress made my
cock rock hard.
 
All I could think
about was taking her – in her pussy, her ass,
her
mouth.

She was perfect and beautiful and so
damaged and fucked up.

I was damaged and fucked up, too.

But it was too late for me.
 
I was never going to change.
 
My scars went deep, and
  
they were too ingrained for me to
become something other than what I was.

But Avery had a chance.
 
She could get over her past, she could
move on and become whatever she wanted.
 
She was bright and gorgeous and young, with unlimited potential.

I was bad for her.
 
Forget all the shit that was going on
with my company, all the danger she knew nothing about that could put her life
at risk.

No, it went deeper than that.
 

Avery was the exact kind of fucked up
that my kind of fucked up was drawn to.

I needed her by my side, needed to protect
her and make sure she was taken care of.
 
The problem was, the biggest thing I needed to protect her from was
me
.
 
But when
she was around…

The blood rushed to my dick just thinking
about her, spread eagle on the bed last night, her knees pushed up, my mouth
diving into her pussy.
 
She tasted
so good, the perfect mix of salty and sweet.

I’d wanted to slide the head of my dick
inside of her so badly I could hardly take it.
 
I kept thinking about pushing through her center, imagining the
way she’d feel stretched out around the thickness of my cock.
 
But once we crossed that line, there
was no going back.

After I fucked her, I would just keep
pushing it. Making her strip on command.
 
Tying her up.
 
Spanking
her.
 
Fucking her so hard and so
long she’d be left quivering and raw.

I’d already pushed it too far last night,
pinning her wrists like that.
 

I just didn’t know how long I was going
to be able to take this kind of torture.
 
Her tits, her ass
, her lips…
no matter what she
was wearing or what she was doing, all I wanted was to gather her in my arms
and hold her.
 
And if she was
anywhere near me, I could feel myself getting hard.

I thought about sending her home.
 
But how could I send her back
there?
 
Gordon would take out
whatever fucked up grudge he had against me on her.
 
The night I’d left, he was getting ready to cross the line
with her – I’d seen it in his eyes. The only reason he hadn’t
was
because he knew I would have fucked him up, maybe even
killed him.

But now the stakes were higher.
 
Back
then,
he’d
gotten to keep Avery.
 
Now she was
with me.
 
I’d stolen her from him,
at least in his mind.
 
He’d stop at
nothing to get her back, and once he did, who knows what he would do?

My hand went to my waist, to the place
where I’d had her initials tattooed on my hip.
 
Even then, I’d known I’d needed to stay away from her, known
I needed to resist the urge to go back home.

I could feel the scar my father had given
me, raised just a little under the tattoo.
 
I’d specifically gotten inked there to make sure I knew
exactly what it was I was protecting, so that I’d never make the mistake of
going back for her.

No.
 

She needed to stay here for now.

I would just have to control myself,
would have to make sure I kept her safe without crossing the line.

I’d gotten to my position in life by
working hard and doing whatever it took to get shit done.
 
I could certainly use that self-control
and determination to make sure I didn’t hurt Avery.
 

She was more important to me than
anything.

Even so, as soon as I made my decision, a
vision of her tied up on my desk flashed into my mind, my hands grabbing her
big tits while I fucked her.

But I forced myself to put it out of my
mind.

I needed to take care of her.

And if that meant denying myself, that’s
how it would have to be.

 

AVERY

 

Kalia was a brat.

She’d spent the whole morning blowing up
my new company cell phone, asking me when I was going to be done filling out my
HR paperwork so that she could start training me.

It wasn’t my fault I’d spent all morning
in the HR offices filling out forms, taking surveys, and getting my picture
taken for my employee ID.
 
It was a
long process, and her bothering me every two seconds wasn’t going to move it
along any faster.

By the time I was done in HR, it was
lunchtime.
 
For a moment, I was
afraid Kalia was going to insist I come back downstairs anyway, that she’d make
me work right through the break.
 
But
apparently she coveted her own lunchtime and thought it was more important than
torturing me, because at noon on the dot she sent me another text.

“Lunch
for one hour.
 
Please be back here
by one sharp, as we have to prepare for the photo shoot.”

I frowned.
 
Photo shoot?
 
What photo shoot?
 
I wanted
to ask, but something about the way the text was worded made me feel like Kalia
wanted
 
me
to ask for details so she
could act all annoyed that I didn’t know anything.
 
It was like something from The Devil Wears Prada.

But Kalia was no Miranda Priestly.
 
She was just an assistant, like
me.
 

And I didn’t want to give
her the
satisfaction of thinking she’d gotten to me, even a
little.

So instead I just wrote back:
 
“Sounds
great!
 
Looking forward to working
with you.”

I couldn’t understand what Cole saw in
her.
 
Was it just because she was
blond and skinny and pretty?
 
Was
that enough?
 
Jealousy burned through
my body, hard and deep. The thought of him kissing her, his mouth on hers like
it had been on mine last night, made my stomach turn.

They
weren’t together anymore,
I told myself as I slid my phone into my bag and walked out of the HR office. Of
course, Cole wasn’t with me, either.
 
There was
nothing
 
stopping
him from being with someone else.
 
And he probably would be.
 
If there was one thing I remembered
from growing up with Cole, it was that he grew bored extremely easily, always ready
to move on to the next woman without a backward glance.
 
Eventually, he would grow bored of me.

Which is why it was so infuriating that
he thought he could treat me like some kind of slave, and keep me locked up in
this office building without even having to explain the reasons why. He didn’t
have a right to do that.
 
He didn’t
have a right to tell me who to talk to or who to hang out with.
 
He wasn’t my father, he wasn’t my
husband,
he
wasn’t even my boyfriend.
 
I wasn’t a
child.

So I told myself I shouldn’t feel guilty
as I got onto the elevator and rode it down to the lobby and then stepped out
onto the streets of New York.
 
Things
were even busier and more hectic now than they’d been this morning, and I
marveled at the fact that so many people could fit into such a relatively small
space.

I glanced down at my phone, scrolling to
the text Jeffrey had sent me with the address of the restaurant where we were
supposed to meet.
 
The place wasn’t
far from the office, which actually made me slightly nervous.
 
The last thing I wanted was to run into
Cole, for him to find out I’d defied him.
 
The more distance I could put between us, the safer I’d feel.

The restaurant was called RIDE, and it
was trendy and upscale, the kind of place I would have been intimidated to even
walk into by myself.
 
The space was
done in a bicycle theme, but it had an industrial loft feeling to it, with metal
beams
criss
-crossing the ceiling and dark grey
walls.
 
Black and white prints of
bicycles were hung up all over, and the high-top tables were made of black metal
spokes with matching backless lacquered stools.

 
Instantly, I became self-conscious.

The girl standing at the hostess stand
looked more like a model than a hostess, with a slicked-back ponytail and deep
red lipstick.

“Can I help you?’ she asked.

“Yes,” I said.
 
“I’m meeting someone here.”

I scanned the room for Jeffrey, but I
didn’t see him anywhere.
 

“Name?” the hostess asked.

“Avery Buchanan.”

She glanced down at the open reservation
book in front of her. “Your party doesn’t have a reservation.”

“Oh.
 
I mean, it’s probably… the reservation is probably under
Adams.”

She checked again, then reached down and
pulled out a menu that looked more like a fancy bound book.
 
She turned and began walking toward the
back of the restaurant.
 
After a
moment, I followed her.

Jeffrey was sitting at a two-top, talking
on his phone.
 
When he saw me, he
looked up and gave me a big smile.
 
He was wearing a crisp white shirt tucked into
perfectly-cut
navy blue pants.
 
He looked so
normal.
 
No one would have been
able to guess the disgusting things he was capable of doing.

“Hey,” he said, ending his call.
 
“I’m glad you came.”
 
He was trying to sound nice, but I
wasn’t going to fall for it.

I slid into the seat across from him,
trying not to let my dress hike up as I climbed onto the stool.

The waiter appeared, seemingly out of
nowhere.
 
He also had the look of a
model, that sort of heroin chic thing that a lot of people in New York seemed
to have going.
 

“I’ll have an IPO,” Jeffrey said.
 
“Avery?
 
What are you drinking?”

“Just some water with lemon,” I said.

The waiter nodded and left to go fetch
our drinks.

Jeffrey grinned.
 
“Really?
 
You’re dry now?”

“No, I’m not dry now,” I said.
 
“I just don’t think it’s appropriate to
be drinking during the work day.”

“Really?”
Jeffrey asked,
sounding amused.
 
“Cole’s
got you on a tight leash over there, huh?”

You
don’t even know the half of it,
I thought.

“No,” I said haughtily, before realizing
I might have to make it seem like I was annoyed with Cole if I wanted to pump
Jeffrey for information about him.
 
“He’s fine.
 
I mean, he’s…
you know, he’s Cole.”

The waiter returned and set our drinks
down on the table.
 
“I’ll give you
a moment with the menus,” he said before leaving again.

“What do you mean, he’s Cole?”
 
Jeffrey picked up his
beer,
ignoring the frosted glass next to it and taking a
long swig straight from the bottle instead.

My phone buzzed on the table next to me
before I could answer.

Cole.

Where
are you?

I sucked in a breath.
 
Did he know I’d left the building?
 
Or was he simply asking because he was
worried and wanted to know exactly where I was?

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