Stepbrother Demands

By: Chloe Hawk

(His Twisted Game, Book Two)


I knew the words were wrong before I even said them. But I didn’t care.

Being in bed with Avery last night, feeling her body close to mine, having her hands on my skin – it was too much temptation. And I didn’t do well with temptation.

Temptation, to me, was a wasted emotion. I had enough money and good looks to get whatever I wanted. What was the point of staying away from something that would give me pleasure?

It’s wrong, Cole. She’s your stepsister.

So? I argued with myself. Step wasn’t real sister.

You can’t expect her to strip for you. You can’t make that kind of demand -- that you get access to her body if she wants to live with you. She’s in trouble, Cole. It’s sick and twisted and fucked up.

The voice in my head was making sense, but I gave about this many fucks. And that’s to say, zero. I didn’t care.

Avery was in front of me, dressed in a tight little pair of jeans that showed off her round ass and full hips. Her hair fell in curls around her shoulders, and her tits were shoved into a t-shirt so tight I was afraid she was going to come busting out of it.

I ran my finger over the top of her skin where her shirt met her bra, letting my finger dip down just a tiny bit.

She shivered.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Cole, I can’t… that’s ridiculous.” She took a step back from me and laughed nervously. I knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to pretend I was joking.

But I wasn’t joking. I was dead serious.

I moved toward her until her back was up against my office door. “I’m not joking, Avery,” I said. “If you want to stay with me, I get to see you naked. Now strip.”

She bit her lip, and a look that was half excitement, half panic filled her eyes. It was wrong on so many levels, the fact that she was my sister, the fact that what I was doing could be considered sexual harassment, the fact that I was getting off on telling her what to do.

But I didn’t care.

I wanted her.

My desire for her knew no bounds, or limits, had no interest in what was right or wrong.

I ran my index finger over her bottom lip.

“Avery,” I said, my voice calm. “Take off your clothes.”


I hated him.

I hated him because he was gorgeous and sexy and rich and most of all, because he left me when he was the only thing I had.

But right now, standing here in his office, I hated him because I wanted him.

I loved the way he was talking to me, loved that he was being forceful and demanding with me. The tone of his voice, the look in his eyes, the way he was acting like he knew he was going to end up getting what he wanted – all of it swirled together into an ache that permeated my whole body.

“I’m not taking off my clothes for you,” I said, but my voice was weak.

He seemed amused, his eyes raking up my body before he turned away and walked back over to his desk. He was wearing a dark suit that was perfectly tailored to his muscular frame, and I remembered how amazing his body had felt last night when he came into my room. My panties got wet as I remembered him sliding into bed next to me, how warm his body had felt, how he’d taken my hand and traced it over his tattoo, the one he’d gotten of my initials.

I waited now, my knees weak, as Cole stood by his desk, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. For a moment, I thought maybe he was going to call the whole thing off, that he was going to come to his senses and realize what he’d just asked of me was a horrible idea.

But instead, he reached up and began shutting the blinds. One by one, he moved slowly from window to window, until the office was completely shut off to the outside world. Then he walked back over to his desk and removed his suit coat, throwing it over the back of his chair before sitting down.

He sat there, just looking at me, for what felt like an excruciatingly long time.

The electricity in the air crackled and sparked, almost like it was alive.

“I’m not… Cole, I don’t….” I gathered my voice and looked at him. “I’m not going to take off my clothes for you.”

“Then you’re not going to stay with me.”

“Fine,” I said. “Then I’ll go stay somewhere else.”

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