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Two older men who want to share,
She’s off limits in too many ways to count.
Buckle up and hold on tight, because we’re about to get filthy. This is quite possibly one of if not the dirtiest little book I’ve ever written. In fact, it’s the kind of book where you’d be mortified if your friends found out you were reading it. Trust me, I’m not gonna judge, but I thought you should be warned ;).
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The growl caught low in my throat — a deep, primal, animalistic sound that rumbled through my broad, muscled chest.
She was late. And we’d been over this. In this house, there were rules, and when rules were broken, there would be punishment.
So far, I’d — we’d — been lax on that front, and that was what the root of this problem was. We’d allowed her insubordination and rebelliousness to grow, unchecked and unpunished.
But then, this wasn’t just about “punishing” her, or keeping her in line, and I fucking knew it. Lincoln and I both knew it, even if at that point, we hadn’t spoken it out loud, even to each other.
This was about lust. This was about wanting her willing obedience and her sweet submission. This was about wanting to claim and dominate every single square inch of her sweet young body. I’d been hiding it away since the day she’d fucking arrived, but no longer.
I couldn’t take anymore. I doubted any other red-blooded man could’ve taken what I’d held strong against for an entire month. No way. No man could resist temptation like that.
Not with Mackenzie.
Kenzie had arrived at my house a month before that day, dropped off by the Child Protective Services from two states over, even thought she’d already turned eighteen. Just. She had a full ride to the state school here — paid for in advance by a rich aunt or grandmother or, fuck, I don’t even know who, before they’d passed. And after CPS had taken her away from my deadbeat sister and Kenzie’s deadbeat father, they’d decided it was in her best interest to remain with family until she started school.
That’d be me.
You could call her my niece, but she wasn’t — not really at least. I wasn’t really “family” to her — not in the blood relations way, thank fucking God. Kenzie was my sister’s dipshit boyfriend’s kid. Her dad and my sister were never married, and she was his kid from some other chick anyways, before he and my dumbass sister had gotten together like a match made in hell. Those two were like Syd and fucking Nancy, without the rock music or the fame. They were junkies, and when they’d been busted a week before Kenzie’s eighteenth birthday trying to rob a pharmacy for Oxy, that’s when CPS had stepped in.
The dickbag boyfriend had no family, and the only family my sister had left was me. Since I also happened to be, for one, not a fucking junkie, and two, very very wealthy, I guess the state just made the decision that family or not, I was a far better choice than “the system” for Kenzie.
I’d said yes over the phone, glancing at the picture they’d emailed over of the gawky little ten year old I’d seen maybe twice, and probably not since the picture was taken.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
Because if they’d sent a picture of her the way she was now? Yeah, hell no. I’d have taken one look at eighteen year old Kenzie Gates and seen how monumentally stupid it would be to invite a girl like that to live with a guy like me.
Because Kenzie Gates had grown the fuck up.
Because the girl who’d been standing on my front porch next to the social worker when I’d opened the door was five-foot nine inches and one-hundred and eleven pounds of pure. Fucking. Temptation.
Long, auburn hair, pouty, coy pink lips, and big, sultry blue eyes that screamed “bait.” All legs, small, perky tits, and a tight little ass that was begging for someone to take a bite out of it. Curvy hips, and a flat, supple little tummy that’d been peeking out from under a belly-shirt that first day and hadn’t actually stopped ever since.
She’d been here for one month, four days, and eleven hours. And I’d been hard as steel for her for one month, four days, ten hours and fifty-nine and a half minutes.
I gritted my teeth and glanced at the Cartier watch on my wrist.
Late. I growled again, feeling the blood roaring like fire inside of me. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I couldn’t deny myself any longer. That night, I wouldn’t be denying myself any more.
I knew it was wrong — so very wrong — but I didn’t give a shit. Not anymore. Not after swallowing back the lust, and need, and the raw desire to make her mine for so long. Her tight, hot little body made me crave her, and the teasing, flippant, bratty way she sashayed her way around this house had had me living on edge for a month.
And she fucking knew it. This wasn’t some innocent girl who didn’t yet understand the effect she had on men. Nope. Kenzie was a grade-A, flirty, bratty, barely-legal little cock-tease, and she fucking knew it.