My Billionaire Stepbrother by Jillian Sterling Read Free Book Online Page B

without my consent or approval.
    Heat is even throbbing between my
legs. Heat is everywhere when Remington Wilde is involved. Heat seems to be
seeping into my bones, into my groin.
    Hot damn.
    “Is this oppressive enough?” Remington
murmurs. “Or should I get my imperialist whip and teach you a real lesson?”
    Holy. Fuck.
    I’m really curious what would
happen if I said yes right now.
    No, Veronique. No, no, no. You
cannot let your new jerk of a stepbrother whip you. Do not pass go.
    Swallowing, I take a deep breath
and step back.
    “Obviously I will just have to be
the bigger person here,” I say through gritted teeth. “I am stuck here, and I
suppose I am stuck with you thanks to our parents’ wedding, and since I do not
know what on earth to do about it right now, I am going to go take a nap. I
would really appreciate it if you would let me.”
    With that, and as much dignity as I
can muster, I gather my skirt and trudge up the stairs toward the bedroom.
    “You don’t want to go in there,” Remington
calls after me.
    “Bite me!” I reply.
    “Is that an invitation?”
    “Fuck you!” I retort.
    “You wish!”
    What are we, fifteen? Rolling my
eyes and groaning in exasperation, I push open the bedroom door.
    And freeze.
    On the bed are I don’t even know
how many scantily clad women; every time my brain thinks it’s counted, someone
moves and there are more of them. No, not women: supermodels. And oh, yup: I
see nipples. They’re actually naked.
    It’s like a Playboy just exploded all
over my bed.
    “You’re not Remington,” one woman
says sleepily.
    No shit, Sherlock.
    Oh. My. God. I’ve just walked in on
a supermodel orgy in my – well, sort of my – resort room.
    A woman taps a thin line of white
powder onto yet another girl’s belly and snorts it. Cocaine? Whoa. I didn’t
think people still did cocaine, that’s how hip I am. Another woman pats an
empty space on the bed next to her.
    “There’s plenty of room sweetie,”
she says. “Take off your dress and hop on in.”
    “I – uh – no thanks,” I stutter.
    Picking my jaw up off the floor, I
wonder momentarily if I am having a stroke.
    “Remington!” I shout. “What the
fuck?”
    “I’d have told you you’re the only
girl for me, sis,” Remington retorts, “But you’d know that was a lie.” Remington’s
voice in my ear startles me out of my shock and I jump three feet into the air.
His hand is suddenly resting on my waist, his breath soft on my neck. “Care to
join us?”
    I spin around to face him,
bewildered and inexplicably humiliated.
    “Remington, please, why are all these
girls in my bed?”
    “You mean my bed. If you
really need an explanation, you can watch.”
    I can feel the all-too familiar
sensation of my cheeks turning hot and red and tears prickling at my eyes.
    Wait. Why should I be embarrassed?
    I’m not the one that’s acting like
a disgusting sex maniac. God, where did all these women come from? Two hours
ago this villa was empty. Did Remington have them airdropped?
    “No thank you,” I repeat, my voice
growing stronger. “And I will kindly ask for the last time that you take your
margaritas and your sex party elsewhere. Please. I need to be alone.”
    Now Remington’s eyes flash.
    “I don’t know who you think you
are,” he says, his voice dangerously soft, “But you are trespassing on private
property; property which I happen to own. If you want so badly to judge my
lifestyle and have your precious alone time, then you can crawl back into the
jungle for all I care. And take your father with you.”
    “Remington!”
    But he ignores the true pleading in
my voice and turns to the bed, wading in to the sea of beautiful women, accepting
an obscene amount of attention that begins to turn inappropriate alarmingly
fast. Let’s just say Remington’s boxers don’t last for more than five seconds,
and what I see leaves little to the imagination.
    And he’s just as big in reality as
in my wildest