Stepbrothers' Darling

by K.A. Knight

The table is occupied by three men. Usually I don’t notice people beyond their location in my dance, but for a moment, my heart skips and I miss a beat before I recover with an extra twirl. They are beautiful. From what I can see in the dim lighting, they are young, maybe a year older than me, and all kinds of dark and sexy. Their eyes are locked on me and my every move. One’s dark gaze is filled with a promise as it roams down me in an unmistakable way. Another’s flirty eyes touch everywhere they look. The third man, with light irises, is grinning at me.

Anger issues, my mother says, but I say a low tolerance for idiots.

I dance like nobody’s watching. Leaving everything else behind. I twirl and grind as the beat controls me. That’s when I feel it... Eyes. It’s my turn to be watched.

No. I can’t think about her like that, not if what she said is true... Stepsister. Who would have ever thought?

“Mind if I join you?” she inquires, clearly trying to be nice. But this girl is anything but nice. It’s in her eyes, in her attitude. Not to mention we saw her beat the fuck out of a table full of guys and get arrested. No, our new stepsister is a badass cock tease.

The arty one, Asher, I think, with the blond shaved head. Bray, with the tied back brown hair, muscles to die for, flirty smirk, and nose and lip piercings. Shit... and then Cyrus, the grumpy giant, whom I wanted to climb like a tree.

“What? I can’t say tits? What about fun bags? Handfuls of joy?”

“Why are you here?” “No parties tonight, we’re bored,” Bray answers. “Plus, I needed new material of you for my spank bank.”

my heart races at the idea of spending the night alone with the Crew brothers. My inner whore loves it.

I’m going to make that king fall from his pedestal built on money, blood, and drugs. I’ll make them all fall.

We’ve just claimed Blair as ours to protect, and we protect ferociously and permanently.

What Crew owns, they protect. I’ll look after this broken little heart of hers and never let anyone close to it again. It’s a promise.

Being a friend doesn’t mean blind adoration, it means calling you on your shit when you need it.