Stepbrother UnSEALed (19 page)

I give him the middle finger once I've got my arms in place. He laughs it off, and I'm quietly stewing because he's right.

I keep telling Delia the same damned thing I've been telling myself – it's just a summer fuck. An extended version of what we started in Vegas, yeah, but it doesn't mean anything more than that. It can't.

I don't do love, and I'm sure as shit not
dating
my own goddamned stepsister. It sounds insane every time I put it together like that because it is.

Too bad my dick decided a long time ago it isn't listening to a lick of reason. I workout for more than an hour, stressing every muscle in my body to failure, and I still can't get her out of my head.

I haven't even followed up on the family shit with mom yet because it's only going to make things worse. I'm too busy thinking about all the times Delia's hot, tight cunt sucked the come from my balls, how bad I want to feel her do it over and over and over again.

That's when I realize Evie's not the only one in this family hooked on some bad shit. Hers is heroine, or whatever the fuck she's got herself on now.

Sex is mine, especially when it's causing me to think too much about a chick when I ought to be thinking about how to survive the most dangerous mission of my life.

I know what I need to do. I need to quit her like a bad habit
before
the boys in DC send us over the DMZ. If I'm still thinking about her pussy when there are bullets blowing by my ears, I'll probably be coming home in a thin black sac, just like the commander said.

What'll little sister think then after we've been fucking half the summer? I shake my head, stopping to wipe the sweat off my face with a towel. I'm the only bastard left, putting in overtime, trying to work out all the shit rattling around in my skull.

It's no good. I'm only going to hurt her worse by dragging this out, especially if something deadly happens overseas.

I'm used to people disappointing me. Evie's done it my whole life, and now I'm just numb to her shit. But I can't do that to Delia when I've already got my hooks in too deep.

I'm going to break it off the second I get a whiff of us heading off to war on the fastest transport across the Pacific.

You'll do it,
I promise myself,
quick and clean so she doesn't get fucked up.
I'm serious about it, and determined as all hell.

But before I do, I'm going to get in one last fuck.

It's a warm evening by the time I leave base. I head for the mansion, expecting to find Delia out by the pool, where she always sits and reflects.

I've never seen her swim. All I can think about is dragging her into the cool, turquoise waters and getting my lips all over her body, drowning in so much ecstasy I blow her brains out. Make her forget what we've got, or at least settle for this summer fucking without any strings.

There's somebody else out there instead. Mom looks up at me when I step outside, turning her head. She looks like hell, laid out in the evening sun, her pale body wrapped in what looks like several layers of towels.

She's got a drink in her hand too. Just fucking great, when I know she's under orders to detox. All she needs is a cabana boy in a speedo, and her evil queen act will be complete.

“Christopher!” I simmer when I hear her say my name, watch her beckon me forward. She points to the big chair next to her.

I keep standing. “Are you feeling any better, or what?”

“Yeah, Bruce has been amazing through this whole thing. He's made friends with some very good doctors too. I'll be just fine, son. Thanks so much for your calls of concern while I was trying not to choke on my own vomit.”

I snort. There's the bitch I know. Her smile disappears into the long pull of green margarita against her lips. She slams the glass down when she's done, glaring at me like I just put my hand in the pool and threw it in her face.

“I kept you breathing, ma. That's all I'm obligated for. You're the only one who can fix your life.”

“Stop passing judgment,” she snaps. “I didn't ask for this. I asked for your comfort, Mister SEAL. A few kinds words or a hug would be really nice.”

“Oh, please. Haven't you gotten plenty of that from Bruce? Looks like all the money in the world can't buy a doc who gets you off the sauce.” I motion to her empty glass.

She smirks, sloppy and angry all at once, telling me she's already pretty wasted. She rears up in the chair and has to pull the towel tight to keep it from slipping.

I twist my head away. Fuck that shit. The last thing I need is a look at her overbuilt boobs, the only investment she ever dumped money into over the years.

“What? Nothing there you want to see, kiddo? Hm?” She snaps her fingers, forcing me to look at her again. “Oh, that's right, I'm too old for you. Too blood related. You'd rather fuck your little sister instead and tear this family apart, piece by piece, wouldn't you?”

I'm stunned, but I shouldn't be. I've put up with these vicious tirades my entire fucking life, and I learned a long time ago the only defense is to turn around, leave her to stew, and walk the hell away.

She picks up her glass, twisting it on one hand, contemplative the way I imagine a foreign interrogator being during torture.

“I don't know what the fuck you think's going on. You're flat out wrong, mother,” I say, trying not to let the growl overtake my voice. “I didn't come out here to listen to your shit. Why don't you go crawl back inside and dry yourself out? Or are you out here because you finally feel a shred of guilt over making that poor sap fight your demons?”

She smiles, sweet and poisonous as a jungle snake. This time, she throws the glass so hard it shatters. I don't even flinch, despite several shards landing at my boots.

I watch her hand jerk back, and she studies the fresh cut she's given herself. It's one more wound that's so small in the grand scheme of her fucked up situation she probably can't feel it.

“You think Bruce is the one playing hero here?
Really?
”

I need to turn and walk the fuck away – before she says anything else about Delia. It's a perfect time. She's lazy, drunk, and now her only weapon is gone. But part of me wonders if she'll throw herself into the pool the instant I step out, yet another attempt at drowning herself, jumpstarting the drama all over again.

“I don't think anything about this shit, mom, because I'm done.”

The latest overdose was her fifth stab at suicide in about as many years, and it worked better than anything else. The crazy bitch really almost offed herself, unlike all the other times, when she stopped short of putting herself in the danger zone. Just close enough to get her fill of sympathy.

“Go ahead and run back to base, soldier boy,” she chimes. “Jesus, you really don't have any balls, do you? I gave you tough love, Christopher, tough fucking love. Now look at you – just look! Living like a robot, loving like one too. No family. No friends. No father. The only one in this house you're on intimate terms with is that brown eyed bitch you're sticking your dick in, and that's because she's just as screwed up as you are. I'm
all
you've got, son, and the sooner you realize that, the –”

Fucking shit. I tune her out.

If she weren't so goddamned crazy, anybody but my own flesh and blood, I'd have picked her up and thrown her in the pool about ten words in.

My skin feels like it's going to melt. She's kryptonite, my Achilles' heel, my own personal demon, all rolled into one.

I've survived drills that left me sore for days. Bastards shooting at me, planting IEDs on the road, hearing my fellow SEALs scream as they're cut to pieces. And I still don't know what the fuck to do with the bitter psycho in front of me, sucking in her cheeks like she's chewing on the world's most vile lemon.

I turn sharply like I'm on parade, and I'm about to go when she gets up. I can't resist looking over my fucking shoulder, even though everything in my skull is screaming not to.

Her eyes are tiny pinpricks, angry and red. Hot tears are falling down her cheeks, and she's shaking, holding the towel so tight against her throat it looks like she's going to choke.

“You're really just walking away? You can't even argue back anymore? Are we that far gone, Chris? I'm your own fucking mother!”

“I know what you are, Evie,” I say, channeling my rage into the fists hanging at my sides. “I know what you do to people, and how you're a thousand times more fucked up than I'll ever be. I know I'm done, and I won't be around for the fallout. Not anymore. Not ever. Save your shit for Bruce, as long as he's willing to put up with it, which won't be long.”

“No, no, no...” I hear her whispering it behind me as I start to walk away.

I'm about halfway back to the house when she runs toward me. She's barefoot, so I don't hear her until it's too late. She tackles me, wraps her hands around my throat, tries to throw me on the ground the way she used to when I was twelve years old, before I bulked up and became a man.

I threw her off easily, slamming her into the pavement. It's a strange irony to see how things have changed over the years. She's lucky she's got that towel to cushion her blow. The last thing the bitch needs is a cracked hip, but it's her own damned fault.

“You ungrateful little shit! I gave you
everything.
Food, shelter, drove you into your career, that stupid fucking job that takes up everything, sucks the life out of you.” She's given up fighting, and her fingers are in her eyes, digging in as she rattles off all her insane bad son litanies.

“It's not a job, mother,” I say coldly. “I'm serving this country, protecting communities here at home and overseas. It's duty. I feel sorry for you some days because you'll never grasp those concepts. You're too far gone, and so's this whole goddamned situation with your sugar daddy.”

Her hands drop, and she shoots me the most hateful look I've ever seen in my life.

“Go. Walk out. You're a disgrace, Christopher, and I won't let you ruin this. Bruce is all I need. He's going to take care of me forever. He understands what love is, something you'll never know after all this SEAL crap shut down your emotions. They tore out your heart, son, and there's no getting it back.”

The shit coming out of her mouth is just total psycho babble now. I turn and keep going, even when she starts screaming gibberish at me, trying to get one last rise.

“No, come back! You don't
get
to walk out. I'll have you thrown out if you don't fucking listen to me. We'll see how much of a fight you put up when five deputies are hauling you off!”

I roll my eyes. It's the same thing she used to threaten me with when I rebelled in my teens. It scared me then. Dad left me with a healthy fear of the cops. Then one day when I was sixteen, she cracked and did it, called the police when I refused to get in the car with her and her drunken beach bum boyfriend to go to the beach.

The officers showed up and nearly hauled her away instead. It's tempting to remind her. If I thought there was any tiny spark left inside her, some mirror that would show her how fucking nuts she is, I'd hold it up in a heartbeat.

But there isn't. My mother's been fading for years, and now she's gone completely dark, plunged into a pitch black pool of pain, regret, insanity.

I know what's coming next, and I stop at the door with my hand on it for a second, ready for the explosion.

“You stupid piece of shit! I'll cut your dick off before I let you stick it in Bruce's little slut again! You're not going to use that girl and toss her away like one of your soggy condoms. You've chosen to be a total robot, fine. Go right ahead, SEAL. You can ruin your life, but you won't wreck mine. If you think I'm going to sit here like an idiot while you're screwing her, right under our noses, I swear to Christ I'll –“

I step through the door and slam it tight behind me. The seal chokes off her threat. I don't need to fucking hear it, because I already know what she's going to do. I walk toward the main entrance, stopping along the way to flag one of the house staff. I tell the maid to keep an eye on Evie to make sure she doesn't do something stupid in the pool, or maybe with one of those thick glass pieces laying on the deck.

Sooner or later, she'll tell Bruce what's going on. Maybe he'll man up and punch me in the face like he should.

I stop near the big sprawling staircases and run a hand over my face. My heart's pounding, throttled like a hot engine.

Delia won't leave my brain. All I want to do is run upstairs and fuck her brains out, slam my dick into her perfect pussy over and over and over, spill my seed inside her 'til I'm too exhausted to think, to hate.

Robot.
I hear Evie calling me that again, and I snort. It's insane, but if there weren't a little shred of truth, it wouldn't bother me like this.

My mother always has an uncanny way with tapping into my fears, and right now, I'm scared shitless. If I go upstairs and get naked with the hot, brown eyed beauty again, it's only going to be harder to pull away later.

I'm going to break her heart, and rip out my own in the process, hurl the whole mess at my feet. I ought to turn away and walk the hell out of this house forever, just like I keep intending, leaving this shit behind.

It's toxic. It's wrong. Everything,
everything,
including her.

But I can already feel Delia's taste on my lips. My dick's hammering so hard in my pants I think I'm going to pass out.

Mom's right in her own sadistic way about me being fucked, but she doesn't have a clue. The only way to keep myself sane is to move, march upstairs, haul the best thing that's ever happened to me into that big Victorian bed, and slam my hips into hers 'til all we can focus on is remembering to breathe.

She looks like she's surprised to see me when her door opens. I grab her by the wrist and pull her tight, slamming her against the wall. My lips find hers, silencing all the questions she wants to ask.

What are you doing here?

What's going on?

Why?

She knows. Delia can feel the heat in my lips and the fire in my blood. My dick finds the soft space between her belly and pussy, and starts to grind, reliving our first sultry night on the beach.