Chapter 20
OLLY
Idrive up the long, winding driveway to the mansion I now call home, my head pounding from the lack of sleep, dehydration, and my core so sore and achy that it's uncomfortable to sit.
Fucking little lion cub. I should have never allowed Sim to give me two more orgasms. I certainly shouldn't have allowed him to talk me into spending the night in his bed.
What the hell happened to my willpower, or common sense, for that matter?
Now, I have to do the walk of shame or, in my case, the drive of shame, back to this overpriced museum, wearing a pair of Sim's boxer shorts and shirt, because the barbarian destroyed my clothes last night.
"Ah, fuck my life with a rusty spoon," I mutter as I get a glimpse of douche stepdaddy's car.
Great, my mom and her new husband are back from wherever they fucked off to when they disappeared, and left me in this hell with my new psycho stepbrother, and his pals.
At least I'm not having the day Rawdon is.
I know for a fact that he's been barred from his expensive gym today, after all, numerous anonymous complaints from female gym members, about his inappropriate conduct, will do that.
I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when he was escorted out by management.
The pic I received, of his enraged face, from the pretty receptionist, who gave me her number after I flirted with her, was well worth it.
Guess you'll have to find somewhere else to work out, cunt.
I wonder how he'll react when his condo management receives the same complaints from female residents.
Yeah, I did my homework, I know where the prick lives, and it wasn't too challenging to get the names of his female neighbors.
By the time building management figures out the complaints are false, his reputation will be ruined there too, and people will be scrutinizing his every action.
I pull into the open garage door, and immediately spy a sexy, sleek matte black and neon blue Ducati bike, all tricked out and parked in the spot closest to the door leading inside the house.
I instantly know who that belongs to, and the temptation to hit it with my car almost has me swerving in that direction, but it would really be a damn shame to damage something so beautiful, regardless of who its prick owner is.
As I climb out of my vehicle, a hiss departs between my clenched teeth at the way my core spasms, causing a bolt of heat and pain to travel along the length of my spine, and forcing my nipples to harden into stiff points inside my sports bra, the one and only piece of clothing to survive my lion cub.
You know, when they describe sexy book men with massive cocks, that make you crave fictional men who know precisely how to use them, and you sit around and feel sorry for yourself, because you've never encountered one out in the wild?
Yeah, well, when you do find that magical unicorn, they fuck you so good they break your pussy.
I'm definitely walking funny right now, thanks to Sim, and his massive, girthy elephant trunk.
A goofy smile crosses my face at the memory of Sim's horrified and amused expression as I darted out of his bed, and literally ran out of his loft half-naked, and as if my vagina was on fire, after stealing his clothes, rather than fuck him again this morning, after he surprised me with coffee in bed.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't realize I'm walking toward the kitchen instead of my bedroom, until a booming male voice shocks me and pulls me from my reverie. Shit, get it together, Olly.
"There she finally is! We were so worried about you, Olivia!
Why weren't you answering your phone?" My eyes meet a pair of stern, dark chocolate eyes in an age-lined face, before forcing myself to break the connection.
The expression he's wearing isn't giving off concerned vibes, it's giving off spiteful wrath.
I force myself not to roll my eyes, and to hold my tongue about where he can shove his 'worry'.
I look around his large, muscular body, to my petite mom, sitting daintily at the kitchen counter, in a powder-blue sleeveless jumpsuit and matching heels.
As for why I wasn't answering my phone, the stupid thing was dead, and I was too busy getting my guts rearranged to charge it, but I doubt my new daddy-wannabe wants to hear that.
"Hey, sweetie, Gerald and I were so concerned, after Cross mentioned you were all hanging out last night with his friends from school, and you left with some sketchy, random guy.
Really, Olivia, I've taught you better," my mom chastises, her red-painted lips pursing, and her eyes narrowing with disapproval.
Say what now? What the fuck? I'm going to break Cross's pretty-boy nose.
I'm unsure whether the look my mom's wearing is one of annoyance, or embarrassment, at my supposed actions.
Pussy shaming, really, Mom? Honestly, after abandoning me here alone, I don't really care very much.
I scan the room, looking for my asshole stepbrother, but don't immediately see him.
So he's been telling the parentals a bunch of lies.
Hanging out with his friends, my ass. As for Sim being some random guy, I guess she's got me there, but he's not sketchy, at least not the same way Cross and his deviant buddies are.
Besides, I'm a grown-ass woman, and I don't need permission to have a one-night stand.
That's what Sim is, right? The little doubt-filled voice inside my head questions. My core clenches again, as if to state its protest to the very thought of never seeing him again, and experiencing what I did last night.
Aggravation at this whole situation fills me, making my skin feel hot and prickly.
"Hi, Mom, I'm so happy to see you too. Yes, of course, I'm settling into this gigantic, pretentious castle wannabe that you abandoned me in, when you took off with a dude you barely know, and married, and left me to fend for myself with literal strangers. Thanks so much for asking."
A snort from inside the open doorway to the pantry catches my attention as Joffrey makes his way out, wearing navy suspenders with little, red crabs on them, and immediately sets about serving me a plate of the amazing-smelling breakfast he has on the stove.
I instantly feel like shit when I get a glance at my mom's hurt expression.
She seems to cave in on herself and instantly refuses to meet my glance.
I take a closer look at her appearance. Are those bags under her eyes, despite all the makeup she's wearing?
Is she not sleeping well? When did she get so thin?
My eyes slide over her frame, inspecting her for all the changes I haven't noticed, including the way her collarbone seems now to protrude, and the hollow of her cheeks.
Does this fucker have her on drugs? Dammit, I can't deal with her if she goes on another bender, I already have so much on my plate.
I open my lips, about to ask my mom to step out of the room with me, so I can question her on if she's okay, when her shit husband's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts.
"Who was the guy, Olivia?" Gerald demands as he comes around the counter, forcing my attention back in his direction, his large, tattooed arms crossed over his dark aubergine polo shirt.
"Did he give you those bruises?" His chin nods in the direction of my face, where I know the sexy vampire left a mark on my cheekbone with his massive fist.
There's nothing remotely threatening about his actions, and yet my hackles rise.
My internal radar is telling me to run, to protect myself and my mom, that this man, despite his facade, is a bad man.
In spite of the alarm bells getting louder by the second in my head, I refuse to back down.
Instead, I straighten my shoulders and hold my head high, allowing him to see that I'm not afraid of him, and that I don't give a fuck what he thinks of me.
Now that he's moved closer, I crane my neck to look up at him, and I immediately realize that his son is a younger version of him in the looks department.
A cold shiver races down my spine at the thought of two of them walking around, terrorizing the world at large.
The brat inside of me who doesn't answer to anyone, especially not this guy who wants to play concerned daddy all of a sudden, rears her snarky head.
"Didn't get his name, to be honest, I was too busy getting railed hard, and having my organs rearranged, to ask. "
My mother releases a loud, ungodly screech that seems to bounce off the walls, and Joffrey makes a choking sound, as I move around Gerald and head for the coffee pot.
Take that, motherfucker. I internally high-five myself.
The tension in the room seems to vibrate and build, the walls feeling like they're holding their breath, waiting for an inevitable explosion.
I, too, am biding my time, waiting for an opportunity to express my displeasure at being treated like a hormonal teenager breaking curfew. Never a better moment than the present.