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Wild Thoughts by Charity Ferrell (1)



Does that feel good, baby?” Cam asks, his words broken up by labored pants.

The moan slipping through my lips in response sounds phony, but he doesn’t catch on … or he doesn’t care. He only grunts in approval, and I lay in boredom while his sweaty body slams into mine roughly. I shiver at the feel of his hot, wet lips grazing my skin, curving up the arch of my neck, and his tongue stops to sliver in my earlobe.

My body should be exploding with excitement. I should be pleading for my own orgasm and begging for more. Instead, I’m wondering what genius invented the Internet and going over the books I still need to order before leaving for college in the fall.

Welcome to the mundane sex life of Addison Andrews.

I’ve been screwing my boyfriend, Cam, for over a year now. It’s boredom city each and every time. It’s monotonous. It’s routine. I have more enjoyment reading random Wikipedia pages. Don’t get me wrong–it’s not that I don’t enjoy sex, it’s that my boyfriend doesn’t put in any effort to satisfy me. He sucks in the sack.

“Spread your legs wider, babe,” he croaks out.

I wiggle around on the couch, trying to find space to adjust myself, but his body is too heavy above me.

“Yeah, babe, spread those pretty little legs wider, so he can get in that pussy,” a graveling voice calls out.

A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to my boyfriend.

A voice I’ve never heard before.

Cam stops. It’s like time has frozen. He looks down at me, wide-eyed, and in just as much shock as me. We’re supposed to be home alone. No one can know I’m screwing my boyfriend on the regular because I’m supposed to be a virgin.

My heart beats so wildly I’m positive it’s about to give out. I slam my eyes shut as fear starts to coil in my stomach. I struggle to breathe and jerk up in horror, terrified to find out whom I’m about to face. Pain courses through my skull, and I cry out in agony when my forehead collides with Cam’s temple.

We look like a hot mess.

“Motherfucker!” Cam yells while palming his forehead.

I cross my arms over my bare chest, pressing my elbows tight to my sides as I rise, and focus on the stranger standing across the room. He’s tall, definitely over six feet. A black duffel bag is casually thrown over his shoulder, and his lips are pulled into an arrogant smirk. Elation is clear on his face.

“You two lovebirds don’t quit on my account,” he says, waving his hand through the air. “Do continue. Ignore me. I’m headed to my new bedroom, so you can spread those legs wider, and he can fuck you better, princess.”

His bedroom? Who the hell is this guy? What is he doing in my basement?

Heat radiates through my face. “Who are you?” I shriek, and it hits me that Cam still hasn’t pulled out of me.

Dear God, I’m about to have this conversation with my boyfriend’s dick still lodged inside me. This couldn’t get more humiliating.

Cam is still balancing himself above me, and he hasn’t said a word. I’m not sure if he doesn’t know what to do … or if he thinks we’re going to start back up when this guy leaves.

That’s definitely not happening.

His eyes shoot down to me when I slap his shoulder to get his attention. He takes the hint and bends down to collect his shirt from the floor. He throws it over our waists and pulls out of me. We start scrambling to find the rest of our clothes. I manage to throw my shirt on, sans bra, and then pull my panties up my legs.

“I’m Zeth,” the guy finally says.

The name doesn’t ring a bell.

“Okay … is that supposed to mean something to me?” I ask. Wait, why am I talking to a stranger in my house? I look around for my phone. “I’m calling the cops.”

“No, fuck,” he rushes out. “I’m Leonard’s son.”

I freeze. Shit, I forgot Leonard, my stepdad, has a son. Leonard married my mom almost five years ago, and his son has never come around. He didn’t even attend their wedding. The invitation was mailed back with the words Fuck You scribbled over it with permanent marker.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to stay calm.

“I live here now.”

“I’m sorry, you what?”

According to Leonard, his son lives in California. So why is he here in the Hamptons?

He releases a sharp laugh. “Looks like my dear ol’ dad didn’t give you a heads up, huh? Otherwise, you probably wouldn’t have been down here giving me a show.” He scratches his short, black hair. “Say hello to the new family addition, sis.” He waves at me sarcastically before looking over at Cam, who still hasn’t said a word. “Don’t worry, dude. I won’t try to fuck her.” His smirk grows more malicious as his eyes meet mine. “Unless she asks for it.”

I grimace. He shrugs his shoulders and heads toward the guest bedroom like we’re no longer entertaining to him.

“What the fuck?” Cam says, finally deciding to talk when he hears the guest room door slam shut. “This fucker is going to be living with you?”

I shrug in an attempt to calm myself down. “I guess so.”

“I don’t want you here with him.” He grabs his shirt, pulls it over his arms, and starts to button it up. “He seems like a raging asshole, and I’m positive he’s going to try to fuck you.”

I bend down to snag my bra and shorts from the floor. “He might try, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let him.”

I’ll be staying as far away from him as I can.

Cam seems satisfied with my answer. “I better head out.”

“What? You’re going to leave me alone with this guy?”

He slips on his flip-flops and lets out an annoyed breath. “I told you I couldn’t stay long.”

“Yeah, but you never told me why.”

“Dinner with my parents, babe.”

I frown. “Why can’t I tag along? They always invite me to dinner.”

“They said it’s a private matter. They want to have a personal talk or some shit, damn.” He bends down to give me a kiss. “I’ll call you when I get home. Love you.”

I give him a small smile. “I love you, too.”

I run upstairs as soon as Cam walks out the back door.

Apparently, I have a stepbrother who’s a giant asshole.

Oh, and he also has dirt on me.

My entire day just went straight to hell.



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