Royal Brit Bastard: a badboy stepbrother romance Read Online Free Page B

and her head lolled from side to side. She bit her lip as he pulled her thighs wider apart. She leaned back against him. I saw a spark of his wicked grin as looked up at me again and he pushed her back.

    Then he hauled the front of his pants open.  

    My fingers opened my weeping folds and rubbed over my thrumming clit as he grabbed the back of her hair. His eyes flashed right into mine as he jammed his cock in her mouth. I don’t know how she didn’t hear me as my dam burst.

    I bit into my arm and gushed into my hand as all of my muscles spasmed in orgasm. I couldn’t weigh then how much I wanted him and I didn’t care if it was wrong or right. I would have given anything to have taken her place, that ungrateful girl.

    We had talked about it endlessly, he and I. “We can’t,” I said.

    He looked very seriously into my eyes. “Not ever. Never.”

And then, one night there was the most horrible row and Roger wasn’t there the next morning, and we lost touch. Well, I lost touch with him, I guess. I don’t suppose he gave a thought to keeping in touch with me.

    My stupid mother stayed Father. He had some scheme for having Roger declared illegitimate. That would have been easy enough, and he said the DNA would prove it. I got the feeling he’d had the tests done long ago. He wouldn’t take a chance on a thing like that.

    In my life I never met a more penny-pinching, skinflint miserly man but if he wanted something, he had the wealth to get it. When something mattered to him, he would spend any amount.

    His “duty” as he saw it meant that he couldn’t only have Roger made “A certified bastard,” as he put it, without establishing another line of inheritance. To do that would be simple enough, apparently. But it would mean granting the title of ‘Lady’ to Mother and Lord Chatterton hated the idea of that and, maybe even worse, he would have to have me, “the girl” named as the heir.

    For that short time when Roger had been there with is, it was only then that I heard anything about Father’s wealth at all. Until; Roger came I thought “Lord” was just a silly title that he called himself by and it probably didn’t really mean anything.

    Roger used to yell at him about how he kept the family in “poverty.” We weren’t poor by the standards that we saw around us, but Roger talked about castles, country estates and private jets. I couldn’t make much sense of it.

    To me it seemed like there were two completely separate worlds. The one that we inhabited, and another one where Roger had been and maybe Father, but it was never going to be any part of my reality.

    The things that Roger talked about, all the things he said, of course I believed them. I believed everything that he said. Somehow, though, I thought of them as part of a world that I would simply never see.

    When Father wanted me to sign his papers, he tried to make me believe that he was giving that world to me. Not only allowing me to be there and see it, but to own it all. Completely.  

    I wanted none of it, I didn’t care about his money or his land or his stupid fairy-story titles. Deep down, I didn’t believe any of it. There was no contradiction, or at least I didn’t see one, in me believing in the world that Roger talked about, but not the one that Father said he wanted to give to me.

    As soon as I possibly could, I got away. I got a place at a community college in Manhattan and a job in a bakery. In Orange, New Jersey, I shared a tiny, dark brown room with a billion roaches.

    Half the time that I had for my studies was in the mornings and evenings, rattling on the train to and from Manhattan. I had to try to read or even write essays standing up and jammed between grey commuters.  

    Relationships for me were rare, brutish and short. I had a particularly horrible breakup with a boy who was more interested in my weight than I was—and not from any concern about my health.

    I quickly began to suspect that his