Wicked Brat

Her gaze hardened, hand catching mine at her waist and yanking it away from her flesh. “You’re as arrogant as I remember, Asher Hunt.”

I tipped my grin, liking how rattled by me she was looking.

“So, my wicked little witch, now that you’ve got my attention, it’s my duty to tell you I won’t have anyone else’s eyes on you. Not tonight. Not if I can help it.”

“Who says you can help anything?” She backed a step away, hand on her hip. “You’re not my daddy.”

I shook my head, fury and lust and every emotion in between simmering through me. “If you were mine, we’d start with that perky little ass over my knee.”

Her lips rounded in an endearing little O, shock fading to something else, before she leaned in close, so close I could feel the brush of her tits against my chest. My fingers ached to tweak at the tight little nipples, show her what a real punishment would feel like to make her fall in line.

“Oh, yeah? Think you can control me?” Her eyes were liquid fire, searing into mine and choking me with the need to fill that smart mouth with my fat cock. “Just try, Asher Hunt, and see what happens.”

With those words, she turned, skirt flipping in the air as she bounced her way up the stairs, humming a Beyonce song as she went.

Sweet fucking Jesus.

“I shouldn’t be here.” I pushed a hand through my hair, feeling the sexual tension evaporate now that I was alone in the front room again.

“Hey, little brother!” The double entry doors swung wide as my brother and his wife came in, hands piled high with grocery bags. “Do you mind pointing the drivers to the back entrance? I don’t want those big-ass trucks tearing up the front yard when they drop off the outdoor furniture.”

“Outdoor furniture?” I asked, feeling a migraine seep behind my brain.

“Yeah, Miriam wanted a Halloween Carnival theme this year, and the clowns need more room for their new act—”

I waved my brother off, promising to handle whatever he needed as long as it didn’t involve any more long explanations.

My brother, Alistair Hunt, a brilliant mind and boring as fuck.

It’s not that I didn’t love him. He was my only sibling, so I loved him by default, but his life didn’t agree with me.

He was one of the most revered defense lawyers in the tri-state area, his schedule busy and his personal life nonexistent, until Miriam Everett and her sassy brat of a daughter entered his life.

Now, as much as Leigh got under my skin, I had to admit, family looked good on him. Alistair was taking more time off, traveling often, and discovering a new-found love for cooking and baking in his once empty state-of-the-art kitchen.

His four-thousand-square-foot home dwarfed my little two bedroom, but I didn’t mind. I liked the minimalist simplicity of my life far removed from all things Hunt. Alistair had taken over Hunt Legal Law from our father, as was expected, and I’d done the revolutionary thing and gone off to trade school. I was an electrician by trade, but my job description was now more general business owner. The handful of journeymen electricians who worked for me now handled the majority of the calls that’d kept me busy for much of my early years in the field.

After directing the deliveries to their proper locations, I found myself ducking back into the house in seek of some shelter from all the chaos. As the hours until the beginning of the party wound down, the activity in this big-ass house grew unbearable.

Thankfully, Alistair knew I had anti-social tendencies and had tucked me into the guest bedroom as far as I could be from the beehive of activity in the rest of the house.

A crash of tableware echoed from the kitchen, and I sucked in a fortifying breath, needing some sort of serenity now if I were going to make it through this party. And then maybe tomorrow morning I would leave early, scratch a note to Alistair that I was thankful for him but would probably not be back for next Halloween.

The pressure on my nerves—in truth, the pressure of her in my line of vision—was too much.

I should have known better, but I hadn’t.

Instead I was stuck here, with her, and a rock-hard, leaking erection with Leigh’s name on it.

Taking the stairs to the basement two at a time, I headed for the wine cellar, my mind on a top shelf Scotch I’d sent Alistair last Christmas. I’d discovered it when I was backpacking through Europe earlier that summer, but Alistair had so many clients giving him gifts on the regular, chances were good he hadn’t even cracked it yet.

I pushed through the cellar door, cool air hitting my nose as I took in the bottle-lined walls.