Stepbrother's Secret

“Good girl.” His eyes are aflame. “Soon.”

* * *

Tristan

I can’t tear my eyes off Cate as she walks into the hotel’s penthouse.

She’s a glowing drop of sunshine with a direct line to my heart, making it rap relentlessly against my ribcage. She takes in the view from the top floor, the lavish furnishings, her expression one of awe. In the corner of the massive living space, in front of an antique fireplace, there is a chair arranged. Lighting.

Andre, the photographer, fusses with his camera, but turns at the sound of us approaching, doing a double take when he sees my stepsister.

Teeth grinding, I check the urge to yank her back against me. Maybe lick my tongue up the side of her sweet neck so he gets the picture. Mine.

But I can’t do that. I can never do that. And the lack of privileges with her kills me.

Makes me insane.

“Bonjour,” Andre sings, bowing over Cate’s extended hand. “I did not realize I would have the honor of shooting such a lovely subject this afternoon.”

Really, it’s ridiculous to be jealous of this happily married man in his fifties, but there is nothing rational about how possessive I am over my stepsister. It defies logic. “Perhaps you should begin,” I suggest, an edge to my tone.

“Oui. Very good.” Wisely, the Frenchman steps away from Cate, an amused smile playing around his mouth. “Mademoiselle, if you please. Have a seat and we will begin.”

Cate perches on the plush, royal blue chair. “Thank you.”

Jesus, her feet don’t even reach the floor.

I take a seat a short distance away and watch Andre like a hawk, making sure he uses his hands appropriately when tipping her chin toward the light, adjusting her shoulders, arranging the skirt of her dress. And dear God, she’s beautiful. Her smile is innocent, sparkling, demure. Approachable. Society is going to eat her up with a spoon and it’s exactly what I asked for. It shouldn’t make me so fucking miserable.

It shouldn’t make me so fucking anxious to get her beneath me.

To impress upon her who she belongs to. Who she will belong to, even when she becomes Connecticut’s society darling. An object of lust and admiration, alike.

She’ll be mine. Always. Every day of her life.

It doesn’t take long for Andre to get several amazing shots.

“You are very photogenic, mademoiselle,” he croons, scrolling through the camera. “Flawless. I will have very little editing to do!”

Cate beams, looking to me for approval and I smile back, though it’s more a feral baring of teeth at this point. I’m so close to having her all to myself. On her back. I’ve arranged for the photographer to stay in the hotel and immediately begin editing, so we can have an official publicity shot by day’s end. That means he won’t be leaving the premises, thus tipping off reporters that the photo shoot has ended. That buys us time in this room. Alone.

It occurs to me that this is going to be my life.

Finding loopholes and creating opportunities to fuck my stepsister.

So be it. She’s more than worth every second of plotting and scheming.

I need her.

Andre packs up his equipment and leaves the room. There is a funny expression on the man’s face on the way out, as though he senses the tension between me and Cate, but he doesn’t comment. As I’m paying him a considerable amount of money, I’m secure knowing he won’t make any unwise speculations about my relationship with my stepsister.

The door closes behind him.

“Is it safe now?” Cate asks.

“Yes,” I say thickly, rubbing at the bulge in my pants. “Get the dress off.”

Her cheeks turn pink, but she stands, reaching back to lower the zipper of the dress.

It drops into a heavy heap around her ankles.

“Fuuuck,” I growl, my hips giving an involuntary thrust off the seat.

She’s a masterpiece. Perky, supple, sun-kissed little tits, courtesy of spending countless hours in the sun wearing precious little clothing back in North Carolina. Her all-over tan is a reminder that underneath her new polished exterior, she’s still wild, untamed. And if that wasn’t enough proof, her wet pussy would be. She’s soaked clear through the pink silk of her panties, the material glued to her tiny cleft. Such a horny little thing—and I’m finally going to satisfy her.

But I want to hold this image with me forever.

The day she became mine. Irrevocably.

I want it documented. I want this feeling with me when I can’t have her there.

“We’re going to have our own photo shoot now, sweetheart.”

She shifts in her high heels. Nods.

“Go sit on the bed.”

Watching her walk across the room is pornography in itself. Her tits sway, drawing my eye to her puckered nipples. And as she passes me, her ass cheeks work deliciously, up and down on either side of the pink thong. She sits down on the bed and pulls the clip from her long, blonde hair, shaking it out around her shoulders. “Like this?”