Monster Stepbrother Read online

  Monster Stepbrother

  His dark obsession runs deep.

  Harlow Grace

  Copyright 2015

  WARNING: 18 +

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Monster Stepbrother | His dark obsession runs deep.

  DEDICATION

  Copyright

  Prologue — Oliver

  Chapter One* — Maya

  Chapter Two — Oliver

  Chapter Three — Oliver

  Chapter Four — Oliver

  Chapter Five — Maya

  Chapter Six — Oliver

  Chapter Seven — Maya

  Chapter Eight — Oliver

  Chapter Nine — Maya

  Chapter Ten — Oliver

  Chapter Eleven* — Maya

  Chapter Twelve — Oliver

  Chapter Thirteen — Maya

  Chapter Fourteen — Maya

  Chapter Fifteen — Oliver

  Chapter Sixteen — Maya

  Chapter Seventeen — Maya

  Chapter Eighteen — Oliver

  Chapter Nineteen — Maya

  Chapter Twenty — Maya

  Chapter Twenty-One — Maya

  Chapter Twenty-Two — Maya

  Chapter Twenty-Three — Maya

  Chapter Twenty-Four — Oliver

  Chapter Twenty-Five — Maya

  Chapter Twenty-Six — Oliver

  Chapter Twenty-Seven — Maya

  Chapter Twenty-Eight — Maya

  Chapter Twenty-Nine — Oliver

  Chapter Thirty — Maya

  Chapter Thirty-One — Oliver

  Chapter Thirty-Two — Maya

  Chapter Thirty-Three* — Maya

  Chapter Thirty-Four — Oliver

  Chapter Thirty-Five — Maya

  Chapter Thirty-Six — Oliver

  Chapter Thirty-Seven — Maya

  Chapter Thirty-Eight — Oliver

  Chapter Thirty-Nine — Oliver

  Chapter Forty — Maya

  Epilogue

  FEARLESS FIGHTER

  Acknowledgements:

  CONTACT DETAILS:

  Monster Stepbrother

  His dark obsession runs deep.

  He’s obsessed with her.

  She’s addicted to him.

  Two damaged souls.

  Will they heal or ruin one another?

  How does a girl go from being Daddy’s precious doll to feeling like a filthy whore?

  Easy really. When my father remarried it changed the course of my life and everything became . . . complicated.

  My new stepbrother is a monster who hates me. Unapologetic, controlling, and brazen, he’s intent on making my life a living hell. He blackmails me into doing things I never thought I’d do. Illicit things.

  Oliver King makes the rules. He fucks me whenever he wants. How he wants. Where he wants.

  My head screams this is wrong, but I can't resist giving in to forbidden desires.

  I’m his possession, his toy, his ultimate pleasure.

  He’s never letting me go. I’m his dark obsession.

  My dirty addiction to my stepbrother grows to a dangerous level. Am I sick to crave more from the man who has made me his slut? Or should I escape and run as far away as possible?

  My name is Maya Childs, and this is my story.

  WARNING:

  Not appropriate for readers under 18.

  Erotic romance novel that contains dark, sensitive, and taboo subject matter that may make readers uncomfortable.

  Contains explicit language and descriptions of sexual situations.

  A NOTE from the Author:

  This book is not for everyone. Please only read it if you can handle the subject matter and are able to keep an open mind whilst reading. If you want a perfect love story, this is not it—you will be disappointed.

  It won’t be pretty; in fact some parts are brutal. Nobody said love was easy.

  Although the story of Maya and Oliver is dark and twisted, it is a love story—of two broken and damaged souls. Both desperately seeking to belong and to heal the hurt in the depths of their souls. Flawed and lost, they find their way to one another in spite of their misgivings and denial of their attraction to one another. They know it's forbidden, yet they can't stop it.

  Can what starts out as lust and vengeance end as love? Can they take away one another’s pain and ease one another’s fears?

  Inside all of us lurks a monster. We all have demons we hide from the world. We all need that one special person to look beyond the surface of the mask we wear and deep into our souls.

  For those of you brave enough to stick with it, I hope you enjoy Oliver and Maya’s story—that you will indeed peel back the layers and look beneath the surface.

  *** Standalone ***

  *** No Cliffhanger ***

  *** HEA ***

  DEDICATION

  To my beautiful daughter.

  You are the reason I strive to be a better person every day.

  To my partner in crime.

  You inspire me. I got lucky when you came into my life.

  Copyright

  Please respect the work of this author and do not violate copyright laws.

  NO sharing without the author’s permission.

  Copyright 2015 HARLOW GRACE

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes, copied, or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied for reviews.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people.

  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright Laws apply to ARCs.

  Editor: Dawn Daniels ([email protected])

  Cover Designer: Mayhem Cover Creations

  Prologue — Oliver

  AND SO IT BEGAN: Six years ago

  Spotting the familiar face in the crowd, I moved in the direction of the threesome waiting for me at the airport. My flight had been delayed by an hour and that made me cranky, as did most things these days.

  I couldn’t help noticing how wide my mother's smile had grown. She looked so damn content standing there with her new family that I didn’t really know why she’d insisted that I leave my friends to come to this place during the summer vacation. I shoved my way through the throngs of people blocking my way as they reunited with those waiting for them, grimacing as my gaze fell on my new stepsister. I’d only seen her once before, at the wedding, and that was more than enough for me.

  The kid looked up at me with huge green eyes and a sweet smile. It irritated the shit out of me. I already hated her and her father for making my mother move back there from Los Angeles. “Hi, Oliver,” she said as I approached, dimples appearing in each cheek. “Welcome back.”

  I grunted something back at her, pissed off because she was being sweet to me. If anyone thought I was going to play the role of an adoring older brother, I had a surprise waiting for them—all I wanted was for her to stay the fuck out of my way.

  I glared at my n
ew stepfather. He was standing behind the gangly kid, his hand resting on her shoulder and squeezing lightly. He was to blame for all this bullshit.

  My gaze shifted to my mother who stood beside the distinguished looking man with his graying temples and welcoming smile. Hooked into his arm, she leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “Oliver, I’m so happy that you’ve come. Sorry your flight was delayed, honey, I know how you hate that.”

  “Hey, Mom,” I said, not even cracking a smile.

  She kept up the over friendly chatter she always did when she was nervous. “Once we get home you can relax and take a swim. I cooked your favorite meal for dinner. Maya has already set the table—she’s that excited to see her stepbrother.”

  Maya stood there grinning up at me as if she was waiting for me to pet her head like a puppy. “I picked flowers from the garden for your bedroom. I'm so glad you’re going to stay for a few weeks this time. Maybe we can hang out?” she said, all bright and bubbly.

  My stomach churned. Jesus, this love fest is going to make me sick. I didn’t want any part of it.

  Once I was legally an adult, I wasn’t returning if I could help it. Until then, I’d have to grin and bear it—my inheritance didn't kick in until my eighteenth birthday. It was going to be the longest two years of my screwed up life.

  “Hello, Oliver,” my stepdad said, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. I looked away, ignoring the older man’s outstretched hand as I pulled my mother into a quick hug, then let her go and headed for the carousel to collect my luggage.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was staring out the car window as we drove to my mother’s new home. The kid sat silently beside me, her gaze drinking me in. I was glad everyone had stopped their happy chattering from earlier; it made my head hurt.

  ‘What are you staring at?’ I snarled, unnerved by the way she made me feel—as if her eyes saw right through me. She was twelve going on twenty.

  Lowering her head, she bit into her lip and studied her nails. She had beautiful hands with long sleek fingers. Her brows knitted together and her mouth turned downward. She was hurt, but what the fuck did I care? I’d be gone before long.

  Both my mother and her new husband tried to engage me in conversation on the ride back to their place, but they quickly gave up when I just grunted a “yes” or “no” in response. Mom sighed and placed her palm on the prick’s lap. He squeezed her hand then turned his head to smile at her.

  “Hey, old man, eyes on the road.” Ever since my dad had died in a car accident not far from there, I couldn’t stand when people didn’t give driving their full attention.

  “It's okay, sweetheart, Alec is a good driver. He's much more careful than your father. He’ll get us home safely.”

  That comment made my blood boil. “Why would you say shit like that about my father?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” she said as she squirmed in her seat.

  “We need to have a talk when we get to the house,” the old man threatened.

  “Like hell. Just because you’re married to my mother, that doesn’t make you my father.” I turned to the kid, whose head had snapped up. Her eyes widened in shock. “Nor does that make this kid my sister. So don’t expect me to be nice or brotherly or any of that screwed up shit. I'm not going to play happy families with you.”

  Mom sucked in a breath, but didn’t say anything. She knew how I felt about her coming back to the place that had caused us so much unhappiness. Why couldn’t she have met and married someone in LA and started her new life there instead of running back to this place and dumping me at boarding school?

  Apparently big cities weren’t for her and she missed Santa Barbara. Yeah right. I doubted that was true after everything we’d been through in the years we’d lived there. A few weeks later the truth came out. She was marrying a plastic surgeon—she’d known the guy even before my dad’s accident. He’d been making a killing off her cosmetic surgery addiction. Hell, she’d probably paid for this car with the amount of work she’d had done.

  My stepfather patted Mom’s hand reassuringly. “Larissa, sweetheart, don’t be upset. Oliver and I will have a man-to-man talk about his attitude when we get to the house.”

  Groaning, I folded my arms across my chest. Great. Now my attitude was a problem. What the fuck did he expect? For me to be all sweet with everything that happened in spite of being left to fend for myself in LA?

  I caught a glimpse of the kid’s face. Pity. That’s what she was feeling for me. I didn’t need a kid four years younger feeling sorry for me. That was just fucked up.

  Pissed off, I turned my body away and watched the scenery as we drove by, hating everything I saw. To no-one in particular, I said, “Yeah, judge me. How would you feel if your mother married someone only six months after your father died and you were forced to go back to a place you hated?”

  Yeah, I had issues. Anger management being only one of them.

  Nobody said a word. Good. Silence was far better. The kid turned to stare out of the window and Alec squeezed Mom’s hand. I plugged my earphones in and turned up the music until it drowned everything else out.

  I had a plan—I’d stay in my bedroom for most of the time, maybe swim during the day, but otherwise I was avoiding everyone until it was time to go back to LA.

  And the kid? If she knew what was good for her, she’d stay the fuck out of my way. I certainly didn’t need her sweet ways or her pity. What would she know about being abandoned by a parent? She didn’t have a fucking clue.

  Chapter One* — Maya

  PRESENT

  “Maya! What the fuck? What the hell have you done?” Oliver’s voice droned through the emptiness to my foggy brain. I couldn’t be sure if the panic in his voice was real or imagined. It was difficult to decipher his words. Rage was all I heard. All I felt.

  It was nothing new. Fury burned inside him—and me. Since the beginning, anger and contempt steadily intensified until it became all-consuming. Destructive.

  Pain shot through my arm. Alarmed, I let the blade drop from my fingers.

  Red. So much red.

  It covered my skin and the floor I sat on. I never knew I had this much blood in my body. It was everywhere. I slumped forward and closed my eyes. Oliver reached out and gripped my chin, jerking my face towards his while he painfully squeezed my cheeks together. Fighting the heaviness of my eyelids, I managed to pry them open enough to see his angst-ridden face inches from mine. I slowly exhaled, consciousness threatening to leave me.

  “Answer me, goddammit. What’s going on?”

  Can't you see?

  My leaden limbs sunk deeper into the floor until numbness took over. My eyes tried to focus on his, but it was too difficult. I couldn’t keep them open any longer. Heavy, they fluttered closed and surrendered to darkness.

  “Fuck. You’re not dying on me. Breathe, Maya. Fucking breathe.” His voice boomed through the silence, echoing off the tile. Hollow—the same as what my life had become. If I weren’t in so much agony, I'd laugh.

  Shivering as my body slid to the cold floor, I couldn’t stop my teeth from clattering. Fear gripped my insides, turning my stomach into a whirlpool as I sank deeper into the darkness.

  “Stay awake. Maya, stay the fuck awake. Open your fucking eyes.”

  Yeah, like I want to listen to you.

  My stepbrother had been nothing but mean to me since the first day he came to this house. And even now, in these last minutes, he was still trying to tell me what to do.

  No fucking way. I’ve had enough.

  My teeth rattled as the grip on my arms tightened—my stepbrother was shaking me vigorously. “Leave me the fuck alone,” I managed to squeeze out, wishing the Reaper would hurry up and get me out of here. It was the last cruel joke I’d have to endure—that of all the people in the world, it was Oliver King who found me, covered in my own blood, on my way to heaven. Or hell.

  Either way, I don’t give a shit where I go, as long as it isn’t here.
>
  Full, warm lips touched mine, forcing unwanted air into my lungs. His air. I tried to press my lips together, tried to stop the oxygen from reaching my lungs.

  I don’t want his fucking breath inside of me.

  Why was he doing this to me? Why couldn’t he just let my miserable life end in fucking peace? But no, the bastard always had to have the last say. Even now.

  BEFORE: Two Years Ago

  { Summertime in Santa Barbara }

  Chapter Two — Oliver

  BEFORE: Two Years Ago

  In spite of my best intentions to avoid visiting my mother and her new family, it was Larissa’s fortieth birthday in a week and she’d begged me to come “home.” Since I’d missed her last birthday, I’d decided to surprise her, taking a taxi from the airport to the mansion she shared with her new husband and the kid.

  Maybe I wouldn’t hate the place as much now that I’d been away for nearly two years. It was college midterm break anyway, and I needed to relax, so I figured lazing around the pool in the Californian sun wasn’t such a bad idea. At least the old man had good taste in all things material—the three storey house was impeccable and was surrounded by perfectly landscaped gardens, with a gigantic pool and plants that reminded me of a tropical paradise I’d seen pictures of in travel brochures. Set against the hill, the spectacular ocean views never failed to take my breath away.

  Besides, I was tired of eating rubbish and was in need of a decent cooked meal. My mother wasn’t particularly good at most things except looking pretty, but she was a good cook and I missed her food.

  After paying the taxi fair, I grabbed my bags and made my way through the fancy iron gates. The house had been freshly painted and rows of pink roses lined the pathway. The rose bushes definitely weren’t there the last time I came to Santa Barbara for my eighteenth birthday, so I knew my mother must’ve had them planted. She loved flowers, especially roses.

  Once my inheritance had paid out I'd left as quickly as I could, promising myself that I wouldn't come back unless I absolutely had to. This was one such occasion I couldn’t avoid without upsetting my mother.