Fight: A Stepbrother Romance Novella Read Online Free

separating us. I knew from his room’s arrangement that his headboard was against that wall, and maybe he’d hear what I was doing. I flicked the setting to high, though I was usually content with just low, and slid it between my legs.
    I barely grazed my clit with it, because it was just too much too quickly, and I started moaning. I dipped the plastic and silicone rod in and out my pussy, rubbing my clitoral hood before plunging it deep inside me. Normally, I was a quiet masturbator, but tonight I let myself moan and hump against the wall. The vibrator was making the wall rumble too, and he had to know what I was doing. As an orgasm rushed over me, I let out a single drawn-out sound. “Paxton.”
    Satisfied, at least temporarily, physically and somewhat emotionally, I returned to my bed, put the vibrator back in the nightstand, and clicked off the light. Surprisingly, it was easy to fall sleep within a few minutes, and I’m pretty sure I had a self-satisfied smirk on my face as I drifted off.

Chapter Five
    Paxton
    I had the world’s nastiest hangover. This was worse than the one time I had been at a sex party, and the guests paying for my services had insisted I drank shots off their bodies. Twelve shots later, I had been loose as a goose.
    The next morning, I’d been a fucked duck as I’d laid on the bathroom floor between hurling sessions. Fortunately, this time the hangover came only with a bit of nausea rather than waves of vomit. What it lacked in nausea, it made up for with headache. My head was pounding in a rhythmic tempo.
    Kind of like the rhythm of Mia’s fucking vibrator against my wall as she screwed herself last night, making sure I knew exactly what she was doing. She’d been lucky I hadn’t stormed into her room, tossed that toy across the room, and took its place instead.
    To make matters worse, she sat across from me at the breakfast table, looking completely unaffected by the three margaritas she’d had. I was reluctantly impressed, considering she probably weighed no more than one hundred-ten pounds soaking wet, but she could hold her liquor. Maybe it was a Gaithway trait, so I wasn’t so impressed after all.
    I remembered Dirk Gaithway had a prodigious capacity for alcohol consumption, and he had certainly been a functioning alcoholic eleven years ago. I just prayed he was no longer functioning quite so well. Nothing would give me more satisfaction than seeing him ruined. No, I guess one more thing would. Being the one to ruin him. I’d love to beat him to a bloody mass, but I wouldn’t give in to that emotion.
    Being a fighter was about control. If you couldn’t control your emotions and your angry response, you’d get yourself killed or kill someone else. It hadn’t taken me long among the street fighting circles to realize that sure, anger could give you a little edge, but it also blunted your focus. You might use anger to get through to the next round, but if you couldn’t let go of it or use it constructively, it would always take you down. You would be TKO and left with a heap of anger that had no outlet.
    Fighting was good. It had been good to me, and it had taught me a lot. It had helped me cope with some of the worst shit in my life, and I wasn’t about to surrender all that hard-won control just for the brief pleasure of wailing on Dirk Gaithway. I had no doubt the fucker would try to ruin my life and send me to prison forever if I so much as laid a hand on him.
    “You look like hell,” said Mia, sounding entirely too damn cheerful.
    I raised my head just a little bit to glare at her, surprised when she set a cup of coffee in front of me. It was huge and black, and I sucked it down gratefully. “It’s been a while since I drank like that.” A long while. Alcohol could be a temptation I didn’t need, and when I was in training, there was no place in my diet for it anyway.
    I avoided that kind of stuff also because I didn’t want to turn to self-medicating. I’d found a