Chapter 8 - Rowen
Fate had a cruel way of torturing me—a humorous, merciless twist to my story.
Of course, it had to be her.
Her.
The woman I’d yearned for long before it was appropriate.
Only… it still wasn’t appropriate.
Avery Rose Wilcox.
My fucking stepsister.
The sexiest, most amazing, intoxicating person I’d ever met.
And I just claimed her innocence like a primitive beast on the floor of a kinky maze, the evidence still staining my cock.
And she had no idea it was me.
No regrets.
I was an idiot for not recognizing her sooner, but her damn eyes threw me off. I’d memorized her deep, dark brown eyes, not the hazel ones that stared back at me tonight.
When I’d pushed her mask off and registered I was balls deep in the only thing I’d ever wanted more than oxygen, I nearly lost it.
At first, I was pissed at her, enraged my little stepsister had decided to let some stranger take her virginity in a damn maze at a kink club.
I almost revealed myself just to embarrass the fuck out of her, to see her squirm and beg for me not to tell her mom.
Then, I realized I’d been given a golden opportunity.
Fuck my sister out of my system and move the fuck on.
That was the plan, at least, until I watched her limp away from me with the security guard, and my stomach twisted at the loss of her presence.
One night wasn’t enough.
When the security guard escorted me to my car, once Avery had enough time to get a reasonable distance away from the club, he reminded me to obey the limits of the contract. That meant not trying to contact the woman I’d been paired up with, even if I ran into her in public.
I just smiled and nodded, but the poor guy had no idea the contract didn’t mean shit. Avery was my little kitty, my very own fucked up, dirty-minded stepsister with a hell of a lot of firsts I planned to claim for myself.
Once alone, I sent a quick text to my dad then drove back to my apartment, growing more anxious with every mile I put between me and my prey.
I only lived so far from her because of my sick obsession.
Her door was cracked like she didn’t care if someone found her.
It made me angry, thinking she was so reckless with something as sacred as her body. My dad could’ve been the one to catch her. That would have been a whole fiasco of chaos.
She was lucky it was me watching, my gaze glued to her, taking her reactions in.
Eyes closed.
Lips in an ‘o’.
One hand groped her breast; the other disappeared between her legs.
Her back bowed as she gasped, finding the perfect rhythm to work herself up to a climax.
I could have gotten her there easily, had her writhing under me while she moaned my name. She didn’t have to do all the work herself. She could’ve just laid back and enjoyed it.
I leaned against the doorframe, careful not to disturb the door and startle her from her current task. I wasn’t about to miss this show.
My cock strained against my pants, reminding me how fucked up I was.
My stepsister.
She’d hated me ever since her tenth birthday, when our parents decided to surprise her with a new brother—like that was the best present a preteen girl could ever want.
The poor thing was horrified to find out my dad was marrying her mom and that we would all move in together like one big happy family.
She blamed me, blamed my dad, for ruining her family. With us in the picture, her mom and dad were never going to get back together.
I tried to be friends with her at our parents' request, but she never wanted anything to do with me. We remained distant, existing side by side yet never crossing paths.
She was fine with that, never getting close, but I soon found myself obsessed with her.
The way she smelled.
The way she laughed.
The way she ate her food clockwise on her plate, never letting anything touch.
The way she casually threw her hair up into a messy ponytail with minimal effort yet managed to look like she was ready for some hot date.
She was younger than me, which should’ve been a turnoff, but I didn’t care. I cared even less that we were step-siblings.
I wanted her.
So, I followed her when she went out. I stopped hanging out with my friends to make time for my Avery. I watched every move I could. I created a fake profile on the social app she spent most of her time on just so I could see what she was up to when I wasn’t around.
And now?
I watched her touch herself, unaware she had an audience.
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she worked hard to accomplish her goal, climbing that slow trek up the mountain.
I couldn’t wait to see her tumble off the edge, fall fast and hard, and give me the show I’d found myself desperate for, something I could picture the next time I rubbed one out, which would be soon now.
I suddenly wished I had cameras to place in her room for occasions like this, a way to not only see but save these moments when she was most vulnerable.
Then, I’d have them forever—to enjoy even once she was gone.
The little sounds she made every time she circled her clit just right. The creases at the corners of her closed eyes. The curling of her toes as she brought her hips forward to meet her fingers.
I could tell she was getting close by the way she was panting and moving, so I unzipped my pants and started to pull my cock out.
“What the fuck are you doing, Rowen?”
Fucking shit. I’d been caught, and by my dad at that.
I quickly tucked myself away and pulled my shirt down to cover my raging hard-on.
Did he know I was watching my step-sister get herself off? Wishing it was me between her legs? About to get myself off to the sight of her?
My dad’s whisper-yell thankfully didn’t alert Avery to my presence at her door, but his eyes were full of fury when I turned to face him.
“What kind of creeper sits at his sister’s door peering in?” he asked. He tried to look around me at whatever Avery was doing, but I moved to block his view.
No one got to see that except me.
“Rowen…” he said warningly. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Nothing.” I shrugged.
I’m just watching my little sister, who hates my guts, get herself off. No biggie, pops.
Then, it happened.
She gave me away.
Told him precisely what I’d been there for.
He grabbed my arm the instant her breathy little moan rang out, signaling her accomplishment.
His grip was bruising as he dragged me down the hall into his study, closing the door behind us. I had no choice but to let him. He’d caught me doing something that could get me in huge trouble, possibly even ruin his marriage.
I knew I fucked up. I knew it was wrong.
I still didn’t give two shits.
Avery was too precious not to be obsessed with, and no matter what kind of stern warning my father gave me, I wouldn’t let her go that easily.
Only it wasn’t just a stern warning.
My dad gave me an ultimatum: either I found my own place and stayed far away from Avery, or he would reveal my perversions to her mother and let her handle it accordingly.
I wasn’t mad at him. He was well within his rights to be pissed off and want to tell on me. I honestly wouldn’t have blamed him. I was shocked he didn’t rat me out, to be totally honest—thankful, though, because it meant I still had a chance at watching my Avery.
So, I did as he asked—distanced myself.
I found an apartment in the next big town, a whopping two hours from their house, and even stopped coming around as much. The goal was to make it look like I didn’t have a magnetic pull to the amazing girl fate saw to make me fall in love with, despite the familial ties.
It worked.
My dad and I drifted, but that was bound to happen—it wasn’t like we were close to begin with. I wasn’t upset, not when he was the one who delivered her right into my hands, trapping her in my web for eternity, introducing me to the most profound emotions I’d ever experienced.
Avery’s mom, Marissa, had always been kind to me, but we never had a relationship.
And my adorable little Avery. She still hated my fucking guts, but she loosened up a little bit once we lived under separate roofs and only saw each other for special occasions and holidays.
That’s what she thought, anyway.
Although I had my apartment, I spent much more time at the house than any of them realized, basically lived there still.
When Avery was eating dinner, I stood outside the dining room window under the oak tree in the yard, hiding in the shadows as I watched her laugh with our parents and talk about her day.
I longed to be part of the conversation, to have her look at me that way, to tell me everything that had happened to her, both good and bad.
When Avery was gone, I snuck into her room to smell her clothes, go through her things, and steal the occasional item.
I had a box under my bed of the things I’d stolen from her: panties, lipstick, even a lingerie set I decided looked too sexy for her to wear for someone else.
I kept it for the day she’d wear it for me.
When Avery was sleeping, I was at her window, sometimes inside her room if she had forgotten to close it. I loved sitting by her bed, watching her chest rise and fall as she dreamt her night away, oblivious to how close danger was.
When Avery spent the night away from the house, I was in her bed, wishing she were there with me. I liked to think that when she slept in her bed next, she would smell me, not knowing it was me but aware something was different.
I’d fucked many women over the years, ones who looked like Avery and ones who were totally opposite, just trying to get her out of my system.
It did nothing except fuel my need to have her under me, moaning my name, clenching around my cock, looking into my eyes as I made her feel so good, she couldn’t take anymore.
I couldn’t have that, not yet.
But Michael could.