Little Brats: Olivia: Forbidden Taboo Erotica Read Online Free

swallowing hard.
    “Can you write down your order?” He glanced down at the sketchpad. “You took the paper.”
    She flushed, rushing over to her desk and scribbling her order—General Tso’s Chicken with fried rice—on a tiny Post-it note. She left her sketchpad there, turning to give him her order.
    “Thanks.” He reached for the little sticky note. “I’ll let you know when the food gets here.”
    She gasped when his fingers touched hers, a shock of static electricity sparking between them, along with something more, something hotter, more primal. He turned and walked out, leaving her there, shaking, hot, wanting.

    Olivia didn’t know what to do. She sat on the edge of her bed for twenty minutes, holding her sketch book and trying to talk herself out of jumping out the window. He’d seen her drawings. He’d seen everything. It was like he’d opened her robe and stared at her stark naked. Worse, it was like he’d peeked inside her most secret places, into her deepest, darkest fantasies. And the worst part was he hadn’t said a word. His indifference hurt more than anything else she could have imagined. She would have welcomed his curiosity, his interest, those things, of course—she would have even understood his anger or disappointment. But this?
    How could she ever face him?
    So when the knock came on her bedroom door and Randall called her name, “Livvie,” she actually hid her face in her hands, shaking her head. She couldn’t do this. It was just too awful.
    “Hey, Liv, Chinese is here,” he said, rapping gently again. “It’s in my office, if you want to come eat with me. Or, you know, you could bring it back here. Whatever you want.”
    Whatever she wanted. I wish. If she could have whatever she wanted, she would take him. Over Chinese, or cookies, or anything. She’d take him. But he was her stepfather and she couldn’t have him. Even if her mother didn’t want him anymore.
    “Okay. Be there in a minute,” she offered, then took to chewing on her thumbnail as she listened to his footfalls down the stairs.
    Now what?
    She was actually kind of hungry. She had eaten her cookies, but that was after she’d changed out of the torture device her mother made her wear. Before that, she could hardly breathe, let alone eat anything. So Chinese sounded good.
    But she couldn’t face him. Could she? Maybe she could just run in, grab her food, and go? Would she dare? Would he say anything?
    But no. He was indifferent. He didn’t care if she loved him, one way or the other. Maybe her mother had rubbed off on him more than she realized.
    Olivia made her way the back stairs. She went through the kitchen, quiet now after the party was over. The help had cleaned up, put away the dishes and the food. She stopped at the refrigerator, pulling it open. Lots of leftovers. Funny that they had all this food in the house and they were ordering Chinese. But Randall loved Chinese. They’d shared many a take-out meal in his office, having long talks about art and literature and life.
    Would those come to an end now, she wondered, as she made her way toward her stepfather’s office. The door was ajar and the air was heavy with the redolent smell or take-out grease. She pushed the door open, seeing the food containers lined up on his desk, her father’s Lo Mein in a paper box, her combination meal in a large Styrofoam rectangle with her eggroll in a grease-stained bag on the top. He knew her so well, he’d already laid out the two soy and duck sauces she’d use.
    The room was dim, the only light coming from the small desk lamp, but he wasn’t here.
    So he was avoiding her then. As much as she’d dreaded seeing him, she was disappointed. She’d just take her food back to her room and eat by herself and let him hide. She was as much a coward as he was, she supposed.
    “Olivia.” His voice was low and gentle but it startled her anyway.
    Her spine straightened and she felt his hands move to her shoulders as he