Step Knows Best: Brat At...
"Ginger Starr stories are hot and heavy and quite explicit!"
-Karin Witnish, raunchyromancechick.com
All characters are 18+ and unrelated consenting adults. Frank adult language and sexual situations.
"A little hitching sound caught in Ben's throat. From his glazed expression, I could tell he was thinking the same thing. He caught my gaze and reddened. I played it to the hilt: stiff nod, strict man of the house stink-eye.
“Son." I put my hand on the doorknob. He touched the brim of his cowboy hat and backed away across the threshold. I slowly closed the door, still glaring at him like a Victorian patriarch.
Now Claire and I were alone in the cabin. I took a slow deep breath and turned around.
She was gone. “Claire?”
“In here,” she called from the master bedroom. My stomach flip-flopped, like when I was a kid and first noticing girls. I took a step forward and then stopped.
“Uh, okay. Just checking." Get a grip, Dave. Jesus.
Claire appeared in the doorway. Her hair was in a high ponytail, which swept across her shoulders as she breezed past me to her suitcases. Kneeling, she opened one, tossing clothes and shoes to the floor.
I took a quiet breath. “Need any help?”
“I’m looking for my bikini. I’m going to lay out by the pool.”
“Do you want to unpack in *your* room first?”
I indicated to the smaller guest room that was hers. Her bottom lip puffed out. No, I wasn't giving her the master bedroom, for f**k sake.
Standing, she grasped the handle of the smallest suitcase and pulled it with a theatrical groan.
“Here, let me help you."
“Thank you,” she purred. I ignored the “sucker” sign she stamped on my forehead with her sparkling cat eyes.
My teeth clenched, I grabbed the rest of her luggage and followed her, her full hips swaying beneath her dress. She plopped the suitcase on her bed and leaned over it, taking things out. My c**k throbbed to life, as she arched her back and the hem of her dress rose on her taut thighs.
I kept my eyes on her body, but lowered my head, like a bull ready to charge. She stood suddenly and whipped around, her hands on her slim waist. I averted my gaze, but not quick enough. A victorious little smirk played across her face.
Arching one elegant slim brow, she raised her chin and stared at me, her eyes mocking, supremely confident in the power of her youth and beauty to twist me around her finger. I gave her my best poker face.
Claire wanted to play with me? Well, let the games begin."
Also included, a bonus excerpt from Brat Therapy