Momentarily stumped, I consider my next plan of action. Facebook is a safe bet. Even my eighty-seven-year-old great-granny has an account. I locate Butterson in my friend list, and search his for Violet. Her last name is Hall. A friend request is out of the question; first I need to establish contact and maybe see her again. Also, pissing Butterson off more isn’t in my teams best interests. I can creep her instead. Unfortunately, her privacy settings are high.
Butterson’s feed and his photo albums are accessible. I find a few pictures of her with Sidney at what appears to be her work. I screenshot the image so I can look it up later. She’s bound to have an email address in their directory.
Next I search the album labeled Summer Vacation with the Halls; it looks promising. I’m right. It contains loads of pictures of Violet. They’re a few years old. Her face is softer, rounder, and her hair is different. She wears a variety of bikinis in most of them: pink and lime green striped, pale blue with ruffle-things on her chest, and a white lacy halter set.
Shouty caps in the comments draw my attention to another picture. A message from Violet to Buck reads: GET READY TO HAVE YOUR ASS KICKED, YETI!
I click on the image. It’s one of Violet from behind. The right side of her bikini bottom has ridden up, so half her ass cheek is hanging out. Butterson’s caption reads: Hungry? I can see why Violet might not appreciate the humor, considering it’s her bum eating her bikini.
Some back and forth ensues, all in shouty caps. Violet slings creative insults. I return to the album and continue to scroll. Whoever took these pictures spent a lot of time focused on Violet. She’s highly photogenic. There are a few of her with Butterson. I find one disturbing; he has her slung over his shoulder, and her ass is in the air with his huge paw of a hand wrapped around the back of her leg. What’s most concerning is how high his hand is on her thigh. Maybe he used to have a thing for her. It would explain their conversation at the bar.
The next image is an action shot of Violet flailing followed by her landing in the water. Arranged in a slideshow, the progression of events appears like a flip book. The final shot is the best. Violet pulls herself up on the side of the dock, one knee on the edge, hair fanned out in a dark wave. Her cleavage is outstanding. I can imagine how hot the position would be if I was, say, doing her from behind against my kitchen island.
For someone so protective of his stepsister, Butterson doesn’t have any qualms sharing revealing photos on a highly public profile. I can’t mention it to him, or he’ll know I’ve been creeping Violet.
Before I consider my actions, I save the best pics to my iPad. My rationale? I’ve seen her in less. Even as guilt gnaws at me, I scan to make sure I’ve got all the good ones. Darren comes out of the shower, so I tuck away my iPad. My invasion of privacy is shameful. Everything I’ve done in the past twenty-four hours is reprehensible on so many levels. I’m disappointed in myself. But I’ll probably whack off to the pictures when I’m alone anyway.VIOLETMy mother rises at the ass crack of dawn, even on the weekends. I’ve been asleep for less than two hours post stealth departure from Alex’s room when pounding on my door shocks me awake.
“Rise and shine, Vi! It’s time for shopping! We’re hitting the outlet mall bright and early!” Her shrill excitement is an awful way to wake up.
The clock on the nightstand reads seven thirty. On a Sunday morning. What the hell is wrong with her? “Go away!” I shove my head under the pillow.
As my mind wakes up, last night—or this morning—returns in a flash of orgasms. I had a lot of them. Judging by the soreness below the waist, I won't soon forget them, either.
“You have twenty minutes to get ready. Sidney wants to hit Denny’s before the breakfast rush, and we’re flying out this afternoon. We need to get a move on!”
My stomach rumbles, sharing the enthusiasm for breakfast. I can’t argue with Denny’s. Besides, my mom isn’t going to go away; she’ll stand outside my door and annoy me until I open it.
“I need half an hour,” I say through a yawn.
“If I don’t hear the shower come on in five minutes, I’ll get Sidney to bust down your door,” she replies cheerfully.
Despite the threat, I don’t get out of bed right away. Instead, I check my phone. I have a voice mail from an unknown number. My stomach flips as I key in the code and listen to the message. It’s Alex. His sexy-as-fuck sleepy voice wakes up my beaten-down beaver. Shit. He has my glasses and wants to return them. That seems to defeat the purpose of a one-night stand. Although, being Buck’s teammate also ensures I’ll see him again, anyway. I listen to the message a few more times and save it. Now is not the time to call him; I’m on too little sleep to make good decisions where Alex and his magic monster cock is concerned.