Her Stepbrother.

Chapter 4.

“We are moving to your stepfather’s house today.” The word slipped through Isadora’s subconsciousness like someone was whispering it into her ear, pulling her out of her slumber.

Her ass met the bed as she dragged herself to a seating position, grabbing her phone which was currently on the bedside table.

Before she read her mother’s message, she knew she was dead, and now that she was glaring back at the nightmare in a message form, she knew she was still dead.

“You skunk! If you think you can escape today then think about your tuition f*e and damn future.”

Isadora threw the duvet off her naked body, seeking solutions like they were oxygen.

At this moment nothing mattered to her. Not her best friend who ran off yesterday and didn’t call again to check in. Not the fact that she slept off after an orgasm. Not the fact that she might walk out of this room naked because this crazy stranger ripped her dress off yesterday, and certainly not the hot stranger who was sleeping calmly on the bed like he wasn’t all brooding yesterday.

Isadora’s eyes lingered on his face and her mind drifted for some seconds. In that moment, she stood lost at what she could have sworn never existed.

Damn! How could a guy be this hot and reckless?

A tingle ran through her pussy, a sheer reminder of how his deft fingers had fucked her raw like she was his to ruin.

The ticking sound of the clock slipped into her trance, pulling her out of her admiration.

Focus!!!! Isadora yelled within, getting hold of her sanity.

She roamed around the room and reached for a shirt that lay on the couch. Without paying it much attention, she threw it on and sneaked out of the room with nothing but sore pussy and a stolen shirt.

*

“You bitch!” Mrs. Margaret yelled, landing a slap across Isadora’s cheek.

The sound echoed across the room but Isadora could only grip her cheek and caress it.

Tears burned the back of her eyes but she just clutched her phone while sucking every emotion in.

“Where are you coming from dressed in a t-shirt like a slut? Huh?”

Her words stabbed at Isadora’s chest. But yeah. Wasn’t she the slut her mother’s negligence created?

Rage glimmered beneath Mrs. Margaret’s eyes. She took a step forward, grabbing Isadora’s right ear and twisting it hard.

“Ouch…” Isadora yelped in her tiny voice, staring up at her mum with wide teary eyes, but Mrs. Margaret showed no pity.

Instead, her grip on the ear tightened, and she spoke. “If you think that you can mess this moment for me, then remember you have no access to money! I am your savior and you are just some worthless piece of shit that I need to see through college, understood?”

Tears blurred Isadora’s vision but she nodded her head regardless. True. She was nothing and would never mean anything to her mum.

Growing up, she had done everything to get her mum to like her but the result never varied. And each time she tried to run, she landed herself in bigger troubles. Now she had to lean on her mother because her witch mother made sure no company would offer her a job, even if it was as low as a cleaning service.

“I am sorry.” Isadora apologized, and Mrs. Margaret let go of her ear with a push, the hatred still glimmering in her eyes.

*

The black Mercedes Maybach rolled into a vast compound, more cars trailing behind it.

The moment the car door opened, Mrs. Margaret stepped out, and Isadora followed closely behind her.

The cool evening air grazed her cheeks, tugging strands of her hair into the sky.

Her eyes moved across the mansion, drinking in its beauty with silent awe. A tall white house, its walls dressed in glass. Isadora didn’t dare to fantasize about living in such splendor because she was already coming from one. All she prayed for was a kind of peace she’d never known before.

“Listen to me.” Mrs. Margaret’s voice cut through her thoughts.

Isadora tilted her gaze to her mother, her expression obedient.

“This is not your regular house. Do not mess around, okay?”

A faux smile curved Isadora’s lips, and she nodded. “Yes, Mum.”

“Mrs. Margaret.”

A tall man, whom Isadora perceived as a bodyguard, approached with a bow. Mrs. Margaret ignored him, sweeping past with Isadora in tow.

They passed the remaining guards, and when they got to the entrance, some maids ushered them in while others trailed behind them with their luggage in their hands.

By the time they got to the living room, the beauty of it welcomed them in along with a tall man waiting within.

Broad, healthy, and old enough to be her mother’s husband.

“Darling…” he called, a smile spreading across his face, confirming Isadora’s suspicions.

Loving giggles filled the air as they exchanged hugs and pleasantries while Isadora stood in silence, watching. She could have sworn that she had never seen her mother this happy, and it broke her heart a bit. Maybe her mother would find happiness and be well again now that she was finally getting married to the love of her life.

Isadora settled into the warmth of the room, waiting for them to exchange their giggles before she would pay respect to her new father. But by the time they finished and his eyes finally flicked to her, Isadora’s gaze was somewhere else. It was behind her stepfather. Fixed on the guy who was walking down the stairs with his hand buried in his pocket.

Her legs wobbled at the sight and damn! No man was ever permitted to look this hot in black pants, two-button-down shirt and rolled-up sleeves.

Or perhaps, the stranger from yesterday. Damn it! He was this tall too, broad and muscled like the one right here and urghhh… his hand.

Her thighs clamped against her will, suppressing the buildup of something embarrassing.

But just how could she get rid of the image of him when something just as hot was standing before her?

Jet black hair, siren eyes, thick hard-angled brows, sharp jawline, and fucking heart-shaped lips that could ruin and remake her.

“Isadora.” Mrs. Margaret’s gritted voice cut through the air, and she flinched, blinking her lashes while staring back at everyone who was currently staring at her.

Embarrassment hit her cheeks. Gosh! They must have noticed now. But thank goodness they couldn’t see him.

She hurriedly took a step closer to her new father and gave a polite bow.

“I am sorry, Father. I was carried away by the beauty of this house.”

A smile formed on Mr. Delgado’s lips. “It’s fine, Isadora. I have heard a lot about you.”

A lot? Isadora raised her gaze to him, forcing a smile. Anyone who had heard a lot about her from her mum had most certainly heard only the bad things.

The gentle and powerful sound of footsteps filled the air and Isadora resisted the urge to steal a glance. She didn’t need anyone to inform her that it was the hot stranger finally making his way to the living room. She appreciated whatever reason made him take his time, at least her pussy wasn’t pulsing again like it had a breath of its own.

But damn it! Every inch of her wanted to turn. To steal a glance at how those broad shoulders sat perfectly beneath his shirt. But with her mother’s watchful eyes? Those glances could probably be her last.

Zavian descended the stairs completely, walking closer to where they were all gathered. Not like he was really interested in having a stepmother, he just wanted his father to be happy.

“Good day, Father.”

“Son.” Mr. Delgado called, the smile on his face growing brighter. One could tell from his father’s smile that he was his father’s whole heart.

“Hello, Zavian.” Mrs. Margaret called in the sweetest of voices, the smile on her face growing wider than Isadora had ever seen.

She knew her mother had two signature looks. One identical look for herself and her father and the other that came from money, but nothing… absolutely none of them looked as beautiful as the one she was wearing today.

“Hi, Mrs. Margaret.” Zavian’s voice came out stern yet eerily calm; it sent a shiver down Isadora’s spine.

God! How could a man sound just as sexy as he looked! How?

The smile on Mr. Delgado’s lips remained. Then he spoke. “Zavian. This is Isadora, and now she is your sister, so you should treat her like one.”

Zavian ran a quick glance at Isadora. Not like he had not seen her some moments back but it wasn’t up close.

Quick one! He had absolutely no desire for having a stepmother, and had absolutely zero desires in treating this beauty right here like a sister. Gold brown hair, straight nose. Thin doe eyes, petite body that could fit into his hand perfectly, and lips that would do a nice job around his cock.

Damn! No brother would ever think of his sister like this.

“Of course.” He mumbled to his father with a thin smile.

Mr. Delgado wrapped his hand around Mrs. Margaret’s waist. “You two can bond while my wife and I go catch up. Show her around, Zavian.”

The tension in the room stretched as they disappeared, but Isadora didn’t stop fidgeting and looking down at her fingers like she didn’t fucking ask to be touched yesterday without shame.

Zavian’s eyes dragged around her features. God! She looked fucking hot in this red gown that stopped some inches away from her ass.

Slim waist, enough curve, and an ass he couldn’t wait to grab. Damn! Zavian couldn’t tell if he would stay a week without desiring her more.

The silence in the room stretched, making the air even more awkward for Isadora.

“Hi…” Zavian finally spoke, breaking the silence.

Cold shivers ran down her arms and she shuddered. God! How could a voice unravel her this much?

Zavian smiled at her shyness, stretching his hand. “I am Zavian…”

She spared his hand a glance, hesitating before stretching her hand forward.

He took it into his, shaking her gently, but Isadora’s breath hitched.

Caught between somewhere so wild.

His hand was huge. Just as huge as the hand of the stranger from yesterday and… damn! Oh freaking damn!

Will his fingers fuck her pussy just like the guy from yesterday did?

Focus! A voice mentally snapped and she blinked back, pulling her hand away with a soft smile.

“I will show you around…” Zavian mumbled to her and she nodded, caught between actually following him or staying behind.

“This way…” He mumbled, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her away.

Isadora’s skin tingled, and her back burned beneath his hard palm.

She shut her eyes for a second, inhaling a deep breath before taking a step forward, but his hand on her back could barely let her focus.

The air in the room stretched awkwardly, but Isadora braced herself. It’s just the stairs, and it’s just a hand on her back. Nothing more.

Those were the words in her head when she began climbing the stairs—but her body had other plans.

The moment she lifted her foot, his palm slid lower from the small of her back, grazing dangerously close to the curve of her ass.

Her knees buckled and her heel missed the next step.

A sharp gasp tore from her lips as her body pitched forward.

“Oh my goodness—!”

Before she could tumble, a strong hand clamped around her arm, the other locking tight around her waist.

In one swift motion, he pulled her back, her body colliding with his chest.

Her breath caught. Her face hovered just inches from his, his grip so firm she could feel the heat of his fingers searing through the fabric of her gown.

Time slowed. She was suspended there—half in his hold, half in her own racing heartbeat. And suddenly, falling didn’t matter again. The only thing that mattered was his grip on her waist and what those fingers could do to her hole.