Chapter 8
EIGHT
MASE
After leaving my father’s office building, I went straight into town, found the nearest bar, and began drowning my sorrows while ignoring the foreboding feeling of dread creeping up my spine. The bastard is even fucking with me from beyond the grave.
The bar I’m in is busy but gives me the perfect opportunity to wallow in self-pity, and thankfully, the server has the good sense to continue delivering me a bottle of beer each time I finish the last.
My phone has been buzzing in my pocket on and off all evening, and I know it’s Owen checking in on me, so with a heavy sigh, I pull it from my pants.
Owen: You good?
Owen: Brother?
Owen: Can see you’re at a bar.
Owen: You need me. Call me, yeah?
Owen: Gonna leave ya to it. Just find a fuck toy and lose yourself in them. You deserve it. Call me tomorrow and tell me what happened.
Reluctantly, I text him back, knowing how worried he is about me lately. Maybe he can sense the change in me from that night. I feel like I’m being torn in two, my head and my heart vying for opposing sides.
Me: Speak tomorrow.
Sure, there’re plenty of women in here, and judging by their hungry stares, it wouldn’t be difficult to get lost in one of them.
But not a single one of them appeals to me.
Nope, the only one who appeals to me is the girl with the username that is perfectly apt—Innocent Angel.
I scoff at the irony. The girl might have been a virgin, but she was anything but innocent.
She did look it, though. She certainly delivered on that. God, did she deliver.
I’m still contemplating searching for her.
But how fucked up would that be? A man of thirty-four paying for sex from an eighteen-year-old, then tracking her down.
Essentially, that would be stalking. My cock throbs at the thought, and thoughts of taking her roughly from behind in an alleyway of a crowded street begin to take hold.
“Another beer?” The server with the big tits smiles broadly at me.
They’re probably fake; everything else about her appears to be, and when she pushes her tits out farther, I slide out of the booth and throw a wad of money onto the table.
“No, thanks. I have a kid to get home to.”
She licks her lips like my words excite her. Great, she probably has a whole bunch of kids herself and thinks I’m about to play daddy. With that thought in mind, I hightail it out of there and grab the nearest cab, making a mental note to have my truck delivered to the mansion tomorrow.
Staring out the window, I don’t even take in my surroundings. My mind whirls from the day’s events.
Why the fuck couldn’t Reed have been there? He might have gotten me out of this shit. All of it.
The cab comes to a standstill, and my stomach sinks. Blowing out a deep breath, I look up at the mansion, the one I used to call home. My personal hell.
“That’ll be fifty bucks, man,” the taxi driver prompts when I fail to move.
I pull my wallet from my back pocket and fumble to get the money out, then shove the cash at him and throw open the door.
This is it.
At least the kid will be in bed now.
Coldness hits me, causing a dark foreboding sensation to skitter down my spine.
A shadow of doom lingers over me, filling me with trepidation.
Just being back here is like a nightmare come true.
“Come on, Mase, pull yourself together. At least the bastard is dead now.” I bounce on the balls of my feet like I’m about to go to battle.
Pulling my shoulders back, I stride up the stone steps toward the mansion doors.
Music penetrates the walls as my hand rests on the door handle, and the vibrations cause the hairs on my neck to stand. Shouts and screams of joy filter through the thick wood.
What the actual fuck?
Are my father’s staff celebrating his demise? I wouldn’t blame them; he treated them like shit. There’s only ever been one to stick around for long—Hugh. The man must have been paid well to endure my father. Though, I do know he has a kid out there somewhere, maybe he funds them.
It sounds like the partygoers are destroying the damn property. My fucking property.
Throwing open the door, I step inside, and my eyes widen.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
It looks like hundreds of teenagers partying.
The foyer is crammed with near-naked bodies, and two women are grappling on the floor, their tits out, money being thrown at them from a crowd of young men.
I glance around the room, trying to figure out what the hell is happening. Did someone sell this place already?
It looks like a damn frat house.
I push through the crowd of drunken partygoers, using my broad shoulders to barge them out of the way. The confusion coupled with the alcohol makes it difficult for me to grasp what is happening. Am I in the Twilight Zone?
The scent of alcohol in the air rolls my stomach. I’ve had too much of my own already, so the smell hits me like a Mack truck.
A DJ booth is set up in what was the dining room, with speakers blasting in each corner of the room and laser lights slicing through the air, and my temples pulsate with the impact.
Jesus, this is insane.
The throb of the bass reverberates through the floorboards, and I head into the living room.
I come to a standstill when I see a full-bodied ice sculpture of a naked man standing in the corner of the living space.
A girl on her knees takes shots from what appears to be an ice dick, and I can’t help but stare dumbstruck.
I blink.
What in the ever-loving fuck?
As I take in the carnage of the room, I can’t help but wonder if I walked into the right house. What the hell is happening?
My father would never allow parties. Ever.
A hand wraps around my T-shirt and tugs me toward a hazy-eyed brunette, a very young-looking brunette, who I quickly push away like she has the plague.
When she stumbles, I grab her arm to steady her, then release her just as quickly.
“Do you work here?” I ask above the music, and she gapes back at me as if I’m a lunatic before spinning and throwing her arm onto another guy’s chest, who she proceeds to grind on.
Great. Nobody knows what the hell is going on. I have at least a hundred horny young adults in my house, drinking alcohol and fucking, and God only knows if some of these fuckers are underage.
The latter thought makes me sober up really quick and turns the alcohol in my bloodstream to fury.
Not on my fucking watch.
Someone is going to pay for this.
My nostrils flare when I see one of my mother’s favorite paintings tipped on its side. Sure, the thing is ugly as fuck, but that’s not the point.
Moving through the crowd, I head for Hugh’s quarters.
The man is my father’s head butler who runs this house, and he would normally not allow this to happen.
The kitchen is just as wild as the rest of the house, and when I turn down Hugh’s corridor, I breathe a sigh of relief from being away from the rambunctious bodies.
Before I get to the entrance of Hugh’s live-in apartment, his door flies open and the man himself steps out.
“I told you to keep it contained!” he sneers in a tone I’ve never heard him use.
His face falls, almost as if his mask has slipped, and he straightens.
“Oh, Mason. Sir, how wonderful to see you.” He holds his hand out for me to shake, and I don’t miss the tremble behind it.
I eye his hand, and when he realizes I’m not about to shake it, he quickly withdraws it. He’s aged a lot since the last time I saw him, but that’s what being away for decades will do, I guess. A lot has changed, clearly.
“What the hell’s happening?” I spit out.
His mouth works, but nothing comes out, aggravating me further. Then he sighs and opens his mouth again. “I’m sorry, but she’s out of control.”
My eyes bounce over his face. What the hell is he talking about? “Who?”
“Summer.”
I rear back. “Summer?”
He nods frantically. “Your stepsister.”
Confusion takes over me. “She did this?”
He continues to nod, and I want to smack the man upside his head. Who lets a young girl control him like this?
“Where the hell is she?” I bite out.
“Oh, she’s probably in her bedroom.” He tilts his head toward the corridor. “The old guest room on the third floor.”
I nod and take off in that direction, marching through the house like a man on a mission.
This party is about to be shut the fuck down, and what the hell does this kid think she’s doing opening the house up to all ages.
Fuck, she clearly needs some guidance, or a damn boarding school. Otherwise, before she reaches adulthood, she will have fucked up her entire life.
Does she not realize how dangerous it is to open the house up to strangers?
Of all ages, no less? She could have been kidnapped.
Abused. Oh, fuck no. My legs move quicker as I surge through the bodies of people and rush up the stairs.
She’s probably cowering in a damn closet realizing her mistake, poor kid. She’s clearly acting out.
My chest heaves when I reach the third floor, then I dart right and head for what was the guest bedroom.
Throwing open the door, I burst into the room, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust in the low lighting. “Summer?”
“Yeah?” A soft voice moves from beneath the bedsheets, and when her head springs up, my eyes widen.
Her mouth falls open.
My jaw drops.
Her cheeks redden.
My body pales.
She drops the sheet, exposing her bra-clad tits.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
I close my eyes, then snap them open just as quickly.
Her eyes bulge.
I shake my head.
No. Oh, God, no.
She looks seconds away from passing out.
Please, no.
What the hell? I mouth.
Another head springs up from below the sheets, and all the disappointment that was there moments ago dissipates into unadulterated fury.
The guy’s eyes dart from me to Summer.
My hands ball into tight fists.
“What the fuck is happening?” I snarl out, asking no one in particular.
“You’re here,” she squeaks, still wearing a stunned expression. “You’re here. In my bedroom.”
“You’re in my fucking house!” I fume, jabbing my finger in her direction. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Those baby blues of hers become wider somehow. “Your house?”
“Mine!” I snap. Every muscle in my body contracts to the point of pain.
“Oh, shit,” the prick replies. Her eyes jump from the dumbass in the bed to me. “Y-You’re Mason?”
“Damn fucking right I am!” I fume.
“You’re Mase. Jeff’s son?” she asks, but it’s clear she’s only confirming what she already knows. “Oh my God! You’re my stepbrother!”
“Are you going to tell me what’s happening?” the punk beneath her asks, and it’s only now I register he’s without a shirt. I’m seconds away from tearing him apart, and judging by the way he blanches, he realizes it too.
I’ve never been a jealous man, not at all, but the idea of her in bed with this asshole has me wanting to slaughter him, slowly, and something tells me he can see exactly what I’m thinking because the little punk springs up out of sheets.
“Maybe I should go.” He scrambles out of the bed, and I’m grateful for his sake he at least has jeans on. He trips as he shoves his feet into sneakers and pulls a hoodie over his head while my eyes remain glued on the piece of shit.
“Go on, frat boy, get the fuck out,” I sneer in his direction. “And tell all those fuckers downstairs to get out too before I call the police on their asses for trespassing.”
He looks like he’s about to puke as he inches toward the door with nervousness, realizing he’s going to have to ask me to move to walk through it.
“Erm, sir, can you please move?”
“You’re being a dick!” Summer screeches, jumping up, then I realize she’s only wearing panties beneath the sheets too. Oh, hell no.
“Get some fucking clothes on, right now!” I stride toward her while the kid makes a run for it.
Summer darts across the bed, her eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.
Then she crosses her arms over her chest, enhancing her tits.
My eyes flit to the little white lace bra that under normal circumstances wouldn’t be classed as anything sexy, but the innocence behind it, the fact it’s on the most beautiful girl I’ve ever set eyes on, the one I haven’t been able to get off my mind from the moment I laid eyes on her … Yeah, it’s sexy as hell.
I freeze and swallow thickly as my arm stills midair to grab her, and she remains on the other side of the bed, staring back at me.
Those fierce blue eyes of hers have softened under my scrutiny, and a flash of vulnerability shimmers in them.
I want to take her hesitation, her purity, and demolish it.
When she licks her lips, my cock thickens, remembering what it looked like to have her on her knees struggling to take me, her lips stretched wide over my girth as I slid in and out of her wet hole, with tears streaming down her pretty face.
Holy fuck, I want that.
A whimper leaves her, and somehow, it pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Party’s over,” I whisper, then retreat from the room, preparing to shut this hellhole down.
All the while, my heart thumps rapidly and my cock twitches with excitement.
The moment I slam the door behind me, my feet come to a halt, and I try to regain some control, some clarity.
She’s my fucking sister—and I want her.