Page 71 of Devious Obsession
She hesitates, but she takes them.
I pull her to her feet and shed the scraps of my shirt still on my arms. I kick off my boxers that were trapped under my balls, not really hiding much of anything.
She plucks at the shirt she’s wearing, and I wonder if she’s trying to decide what it is she needs. And honestly, at this rate? I’d give her anything she asks for, do anything she said.
I’m a sucker, and the tears still on her cheeks are just making things worse.
“I need you…” She bites her lip and steps closer, her hand wrapping around my cock again. Fisting it and sliding her hand up and over my head, then pushing back toward the base.
“You need me to what, sweetheart?”
Her fingers touch my balls. Cups them with her free hand while stroking me, and I don’t know why the light suddenly in her eyes has me all twisted up.
“I need you to go fuck yourself, Steele.” She steps back and grabs my forgotten sweatpants, dragging them up over her legs. She leaves me standing naked in the middle of my room and disappears out the door.
20
ASPEN
My uncle is waiting outside Steele’s house. I climb in without comment, securing the seat belt around me and folding my arms over my chest. I feel… raw. I walked out without shoes, without my clothes. Steele’s sweatpants are baggy around my legs, even my waist. He really is bigger all the way around, and that should make me feel good about myself.
But instead, I just feel sick.
“You want to talk about it?” Uncle asks.
“No.”
“Because it looks like things are spiraling.” He glances at me, then taps the lid of the coffee cup in the holder. “This is for you.”
I lift it and wrap both hands around it, savoring the warmth.
The sun is setting, the sky a wash of cotton-candy colors. The clock on the dash says it’s almost six o’clock. My stomach growls, and Uncle’s jaw tics.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t go back and kill that boy.”
I hesitate, although the thought makes me nauseous. “Because he’s…”
If I say he’s an O’Brien, he’ll look into him. Find the rumors around campus, sure, but also that we’re stepsiblings. And wouldn’t that be a fun explanation to my mother about how Dad found her location?
If I say he’s just some boy, that’s not really an excuse at all to stop Uncle from doing exactly what he wants.
“He’s important to me,” I end lamely.
He sighs. “Because his father is married to your mother?”
I glance sharply at him. “Who said that?”
“The marriage license I dug up in Vegas.”
“Because my father—”
“No, Aspen, because I wanted to make sure your mother wasn’t being an idiot.Again.” He shakes his head and turns into a diner. “At least she never married your father,” he adds under his breath.
I can’t help but agree.
Once parked, he reaches behind my seat and grabs a pair of flip-flops. He sets them on my lap, and I stare at the cheap, dark-blue plastic. A few sizes too big for me, but whatever. I slip them on and follow him inside.
My footsteps thwack against the pavement, up the steps, and down the linoleum-tiled floors to a booth at the end of a long row. He takes the seat to see the rest of the diner, and I slide in across from him.
