Chapter 3

Maija

By the time we finish sorting all the boxes, it is almost dinner time; we all agree on ordering pizza since
no one feels like cooking. The food arrives, and we all sit at the dinner table having our first meal as a
family. The atmosphere is nice and relaxing as Charles retells how he and my mother met at his hotel. I
have heard the story about five times, so I’m not keen on another reiteration. I look at the slice of pizza
when he gets to the part about mom threatening him and chuckle as I poke away at it.

For some reason, I am not hungry for food. However, I am hungry for someone. Slightly lifting my head,
my eyes meet Zayne, which instantly causes a flood between my thighs. It really should be a crime to
be that hot. I bite my lip, squeezing my thighs together, hoping to quell the heat that is building in my
core.

“Are you not hungry, Maija? Or did you want something else? We can order…” Charles's voice slams
through my salacious thoughts, bringing me back to reality. Was I hungry? Yes, but what I want isn’t on
the menu, my dear stepfather– it’s in your son’s pants. I shake my head free of my dirty thoughts
before responding.

“Hmm, I’m fine, I uh, just have a lot on my mind.”

”I’m sure you do. Moving can be incredibly stressful.”

“Oh no...” I start to answer, but Zayne interrupts me.

“Drop the shrink act, dad.” I cringe at the harsh tone of his voice, bracing myself for an argument, but
the argument never happens because Charles returns his remark with a smile.



“Putting the ole degree to good use. I’m sorry, Maija, that’s not how I meant it.” I smile, nodding as I
return to picking at my pizza and thinking of ways to avoid fucking my stepbrother this summer. I need
to avoid him at all costs until I go off to college. Before meeting him, I once considered the possibility of
living at home since NYU was only two hours away. However, after meeting him, there is no way I can
live with him and not rip his clothes off.

“You and Zayne should get to know each other, you know, like siblings.” I hear my mother say. Yeah, I
don’t think that’s possible, mom. My panties are soaked, and all I did was look at him. The thought of
treating him like a sibling was never in the cards.

“Let’s see how long the marriage lasts first.” The words are out of my mouth before I can think. The
look on my mother's face makes me instantly regret them—me and my big mouth that lacks a suitable
filter. I sigh. At least I didn’t let it slip that I want my stepbrother to bend me over the counter and fuck
me mercilessly.

Zayne starts laughing suddenly, which does not help. My nipples harden as his laugh caressed my
eardrums. What the hell is wrong with my body? He’s just one guy; why does he have this effect on
me? I raise my head and meet his eyes again, his green eyes filled with mischief. Again, moisture
settles between my thighs. Oh, those pouty lips. His face would make a perfect chair, I surmise, as the
heat in my body rises. He bites his lip as he looks at me. Oh, so I’m not the only one drunk on lust, I
smile.

Wait, there is something I should be doing. Apologizing. I peel my eyes away from him and glance at
my mother, who still looks hurt.

“I’m sorry, mom, I’m sure this marriage will last forever. Naturally, Zayne and I will become friends–”
more like fuck buddies, I think– “no need to force it.” My mother nods, feeling satisfied with my apology,



and we all resume light banter and easy conversation as I made mental plans to work my dildo
overtime tonight while imagining it is my stepbrother.




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