Read Online Lies of the Stepbrothers: Billionaire Stepbrothers Romance (2 Wicked Stepbrothers, 1 Innocent Girl Book 3) by Stephanie Brother - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Brother
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here, to the prison of the streets.
They're happy without me.
The perfect couple.
Not for long.
I get up abruptly, my head pounding. Whether it is from the hangover or the anger I'm feeling I can't be too sure of, but I already know I won't be able to fight the red mist this time around.
They look perfect. He is in that stupid pea coat he always wears, his hair longer, ruffled from every time Emme runs a hand through it playfully. She's wearing a pretty floral dress and a cardigan, her hair long down her back. She looks fucking beautiful.
An insane desire to sear through her body with my cock consumes me.
Whenever I see something beautiful, an inner need wills me to destroy it. And wouldn't you know it, Emme is the prettiest of them all.
My hands immediately form fists at my sides and I head towards them.
Ready to smash Blane's face in.
Ready to finally claim Emme's pussy as my own.
"Are you the street artist?" someone interrupts me, standing right in front of me. A body steps in my way, bigger and broader than I am, and my eyes immediately shoot upward, annoyed.
"Get out of my way," I snarl angrily, already moving to get away from him, but he sidesteps me, blocking my way.
"I don't want any trouble," he claims, his hands up in the air, whether to defend himself or placate me, I can't be too sure. Not that I give a fuck.
"You're about to get some," I growl back at him, finally getting a good look at the man. He's about fifty, a silver fox. He's clad in a business suit, sharp and business like. He definitely doesn't look like he belongs to this side of the street, more suited to the other side with the luxury shops.
"I've heard of your art," he says, placating, ignoring my outburst. Over his shoulder, I see Emme and Blane going around the corner and I get even more anxious, desperate to get away.
"What of it?" I ask angrily, refusing to pay him any attention.
"I'm a gallery owner downtown. I've seen your work popping up on social media and blogs, and I'm intrigued," he explains quickly, and he finally has my attention.
A gallery owner? This could save me , I think, almost manic.
"Tell me more," I say, my anger dissipating, Emme and Blane momentarily forgotten, but always in the back of my mind. I focus on the man in front of me, who pushes a business card in my grimy hands. The stark white paper looks terrible against my palms smudged with paint and dirt.
"My name is Mark Richardson. And I believe you have real talent. But there's something more ..." He eyes me thoughtfully, flashing a perfect smile that I for some reason don't want to smash in. Yet.
"What do you mean?" I ask suspiciously, my heart pounding in my chest. I'm hoping he doesn't remember my face from a newspaper from when my parents were still alive.
Fortunately, he has something else in mind.
"I see something dark in you. I see you suppressing your real talent. And I believe I can help you bring it out. And earn some money while you're at it," he says, winking at me.
He actually fucking winks .
"So, are you interested?" he asks eagerly, and I only think it through for a moment before nodding slowly.
He ignores all the dirt from the street that is caked up on my sleeve, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a hug.
"We'll do great things together," he promises me.
And somehow, I know we will.
Not that I care about this man.
The only thing I give a fuck about is getting back at Blane, and claiming Emme.
He's a dead man, and she's mine.
Chapter 3
1 year later
"Oh Aiden," she moans beneath me as I yank her hair back as hard as I can. She yelps with pain but I don't stop there, pulling just a little bit more so her throat is exposed to my hungry mouth.
I kiss her perfect, white and slender neck with determination. I don't like how perfect it is, like a swan's. The first time I saw it, I already decided I'd stain it with dark blue and purple.
That was a year ago, and I've been fucking her for the better part of the time that passed
They're happy without me.
The perfect couple.
Not for long.
I get up abruptly, my head pounding. Whether it is from the hangover or the anger I'm feeling I can't be too sure of, but I already know I won't be able to fight the red mist this time around.
They look perfect. He is in that stupid pea coat he always wears, his hair longer, ruffled from every time Emme runs a hand through it playfully. She's wearing a pretty floral dress and a cardigan, her hair long down her back. She looks fucking beautiful.
An insane desire to sear through her body with my cock consumes me.
Whenever I see something beautiful, an inner need wills me to destroy it. And wouldn't you know it, Emme is the prettiest of them all.
My hands immediately form fists at my sides and I head towards them.
Ready to smash Blane's face in.
Ready to finally claim Emme's pussy as my own.
"Are you the street artist?" someone interrupts me, standing right in front of me. A body steps in my way, bigger and broader than I am, and my eyes immediately shoot upward, annoyed.
"Get out of my way," I snarl angrily, already moving to get away from him, but he sidesteps me, blocking my way.
"I don't want any trouble," he claims, his hands up in the air, whether to defend himself or placate me, I can't be too sure. Not that I give a fuck.
"You're about to get some," I growl back at him, finally getting a good look at the man. He's about fifty, a silver fox. He's clad in a business suit, sharp and business like. He definitely doesn't look like he belongs to this side of the street, more suited to the other side with the luxury shops.
"I've heard of your art," he says, placating, ignoring my outburst. Over his shoulder, I see Emme and Blane going around the corner and I get even more anxious, desperate to get away.
"What of it?" I ask angrily, refusing to pay him any attention.
"I'm a gallery owner downtown. I've seen your work popping up on social media and blogs, and I'm intrigued," he explains quickly, and he finally has my attention.
A gallery owner? This could save me , I think, almost manic.
"Tell me more," I say, my anger dissipating, Emme and Blane momentarily forgotten, but always in the back of my mind. I focus on the man in front of me, who pushes a business card in my grimy hands. The stark white paper looks terrible against my palms smudged with paint and dirt.
"My name is Mark Richardson. And I believe you have real talent. But there's something more ..." He eyes me thoughtfully, flashing a perfect smile that I for some reason don't want to smash in. Yet.
"What do you mean?" I ask suspiciously, my heart pounding in my chest. I'm hoping he doesn't remember my face from a newspaper from when my parents were still alive.
Fortunately, he has something else in mind.
"I see something dark in you. I see you suppressing your real talent. And I believe I can help you bring it out. And earn some money while you're at it," he says, winking at me.
He actually fucking winks .
"So, are you interested?" he asks eagerly, and I only think it through for a moment before nodding slowly.
He ignores all the dirt from the street that is caked up on my sleeve, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a hug.
"We'll do great things together," he promises me.
And somehow, I know we will.
Not that I care about this man.
The only thing I give a fuck about is getting back at Blane, and claiming Emme.
He's a dead man, and she's mine.
Chapter 3
1 year later
"Oh Aiden," she moans beneath me as I yank her hair back as hard as I can. She yelps with pain but I don't stop there, pulling just a little bit more so her throat is exposed to my hungry mouth.
I kiss her perfect, white and slender neck with determination. I don't like how perfect it is, like a swan's. The first time I saw it, I already decided I'd stain it with dark blue and purple.
That was a year ago, and I've been fucking her for the better part of the time that passed
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