Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Troy stalls while getting dressed and putting his shoes on. Maybe he thinks that when he leaves this would be over, or that I’m going to change my mind, or hell, maybe he’s going to change his. None of that is fucking happening. I haven’t gotten enough of him yet.
“I should go. I—umpf.” His back hits the door as I push my body against his. First I told him about Christian, and now this, but I can’t seem to control myself when it comes to him.
“I wasn’t fucking around about Ash…or anyone else touching you.”
His throat bobs. “I wasn’t kidding about anyone touching you either.”
“Good. We’re in agreement, then.” I get closer, my mouth a whisper away from him. “When you go on that date with Ash, I want you with me before you go. I want to come on you the way you did me last night. I’m going to rub my load into your skin so he’ll smell me if he gets too close. So he’ll know you belong to someone else.”
“Belong?” He quirks a brow.
“Shut up and kiss me, T.” He grins, and does exactly that, tongue possessively between my lips, groins grinding together, hands touching, grabbing, rubbing, until we’re both hard and gasping and I’m seriously close to stripping him and getting my shot at his hole.
“I’ve never wanted to skip work more,” Troy says, and yeah, that makes me grin. Leaning in, I press my open mouth to his neck and begin to suck. “Fuck…Atlas…” But he doesn’t pull away as my lips continue the suction, pulling the blood to the surface. I don’t stop until there’s a dark-red mark there.
“You’re not the only one who likes marking what they want.”
Troy looks blissed out, pupils wide, and turned on as fuck. “I can handle that.”
“Good,” I say, then back up. He stares at me for a moment, hand on his neck, rubbing the spot, and then he walks out without another word.
I finish getting ready, trying not to think too much about how I spent my night, but it’s hard, considering every time I move, I can feel him. The slight soreness is a constant reminder of Troy as I drive to work, while I’m sorting scrap metal and keeping an eye out for anything he might need. It doesn’t matter if I tell myself that’s not what I’m doing. I know it is, and it’s annoying as shit.
My phone buzzes with a text when I get back home. My first thought is that it’s going to be Troy, but it’s Dixon.
You bailed early, but Troy was still our top earner for the night! I knew he would be a big hit. There’s something about his boy-next-door charm.
For the first time, I sorta hate Dixon. He’s not supposed to notice things like that about Troy, though he’d be a fool not to. Troy has that effect on people. It’s not something he would ever see, but it’s true.
And then there’s also all that shit he said and did to me last night—a side of Troy no one has ever seen. He hooks up, and he had boyfriends, but those things he said, he’s saved just for me, so yeah, those other guys can suck my dick.
Me: Simmer down, big guy.
Dixon: LOL. Sorry. I shouldn’t talk about your stepbrother like that.
I shouldn’t have let my stepbro stick his dick in me either, but one of those things will definitely happen again.
I don’t reply to Dixon because if I do, I’ll just end up asking him about Ash. It’s not like he needs Dixon to coordinate the date he won, because he lives with Troy. Fuck, he lives with Troy.
I grumble the whole way to my apartment door, where I’m surprised to find Brenner and Taylor waiting for me.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Came to chill with you until we can go out tonight. A shit ton of people are hitting up Crave. We’re dragging your boring ass with us,” Taylor tells me.
“Bet,” I tell my friends.
Even though part of me doesn’t want to go, I could use a drink. I need to do something to get Troy off my mind.
21
Troy
I’m a machine.
Knocked out three cars already, and I’m breezing through a brake pad adjustment on a Honda Pilot.
I live for this. Nothing like the smell of the garage, getting my hands dirty, and problem-solving my way through all the shit that comes up on any given day. When I’m on a roll in the shop, I really feel like I’m living the dream. I can only imagine what Glen would think of that, given some of the asshole comments he’s made over the years: “That’s a good way to build work ethic,” or, “I’m sure those skills will come in handy when you level up,” or even better, “Someone’s gotta do it.”