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stepbrother sleepover
SINFUL STEPBROTHERS
EMMA BRAY
Copyright © 2022 by Emma Bray
All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical
means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission
from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
 one

Luke

I BRING the champagne flute up to my lips and take a sip of the

tart, fruity beverage. I lament the way it doesn't burn going down
my throat like a shot of good whiskey.
I pull at the collar of my tuxedo and scowl. Fucking champagne.
A man needs the hard shit to get through something like this—or at
least a good beer. This fancy, bubbly shit isn't my thing, but I'm here
for my father, I remind myself.
I glance over at where he dances with Karen Shay. She's a pretty
woman, I have to admit, with her curly blonde hair and petite frame.
She's a widow just like my father's a widower. The way I understand
it, she has three children too—just like Dad—though my brothers
and I have yet to meet them.
My father isn't exactly known for his patience. He met this
woman scarcely a month ago, and now he's got a ring on her finger
before even introducing us to her children. Not that I really give a
fuck. If he thinks we're going to be one big happy Brady Bunch,
though, he’s got another thing coming. My brothers and I are all
grown. We don't have time to make nice with new siblings. I’m not
saying that I'm going to be an ass to whomever my step-siblings
turn out to be, but I'm not looking for new family members to sing
kumbayah with either. And I know Charlie and Noah aren’t either.
I want my old man to be happy. Our mom died years ago, and I
didn't really expect him to stay single and mourn her forever. Plus, I
already know Karen isn't trying to replace our mother. She won't
expect us to call her mom and shit like that, so I'm good with her.
Still, I might wish my dad well, but I wish he'd go ahead and pull
a plug in this thing so we can all go. If I thought I could skate out of
here without my presence being missed, I'd be gone in a heartbeat.
I have several designs to sketch out for my clients before work
on Monday. I don't really want to spend my entire weekend playing
at a new family. Normally I'd be in the parlor inking out new tattoos
on the weekend, but I took this weekend off for my dad's wedding.
Still, that doesn't mean I can't create some new designs on my time
off. I've been working on drawing up a new one to have inked on my
own skin—something I know my dad is less than thrilled about.
He doesn't approve of all the tats decorating my chest and arms,
but ask me if I give a fuck. They’re part of who I am. Some are
symbolic, whereas others are just decorative. We all express
ourselves in different ways, and mine is through inked skin.
My scowl deepens when I feel a bump against my side. I look
down, ready to snap at whatever drunken fool stumbled into me, but
my words die in my throat when I look down at soft brown hair
tumbling down an impossibly tiny frame. A little head lifts, and the
biggest pair of doe-brown eyes I've ever seen peers up at me.
They’re framed by thick, dark lashes that make them look soft
and innocent. My eyes rove down over porcelain cheeks to a pair of
puffy pink lips, and my cock twitches. They’re the kind of lips a man
dreams about having wrapped around his cock.
“Oops! I'm sorry!” she says in a musical little voice before she
smiles at me.
It's like the world has shifted under my feet. Holy fuck, that
smile. It’s the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life.
Who is this tiny angel?
I place a hand on her arm to steady her, noticing the way my
hand almost wraps entirely around it. She’s so tiny, so dainty. A rush
of protectiveness surges through me.
Her flesh is soft in my grasp, and tingles run from my fingertips
all the way up through my arm.
I offer her a smile of my own. “And just who are you, sweet
thing?” My eyes rake over the peach-colored dress she has on. It’s
held up by the thinnest of straps and reveals the tiniest bit of
cleavage in its square neckline. It flows to her feet, so,
unfortunately, I don’t get a look at her legs, but I can see pink-
painted toenails peeking out from underneath the dress in a pair of
strappy heels.
Twin spots of pink appear on her cheeks as she blushes prettily.
“Lucy.”
“Lucy,” I repeat her name slowly, reverently. “I'm Luke.”
“Luke,” she repeats my name too, and I swear to fuck my cock
stiffens in my pants at the way she says my name in a breathy little
voice. It makes me imagine her panting it out with her lips right next
to my ear as I pound into her balls deep. Fuuck.
I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and hand it to
her, but she shakes her head, her pretty brown locks bobbing with
the movement. “Oh, thank you, but I'm not old enough.”
My brow furrows and my stomach drops as I place the flute of
champagne back on the tray and nod to the waiter. “How old are
you, Lucy?” I rake my eyes over her again. Fuck, she looks young.
Please tell me I haven’t been standing here perving on an
underaged girl.
“Nineteen,” she answers, and I visibly relax. She's young but
legal. I'm not exactly old at twenty-eight, but that’s nine years older
than her.
I drink in the sight of her again, and my chest tightens.
Fuck it, I don't care. I don't know what it is about this girl, but
I'm completely enchanted with her.
“Hmm, so what do you do, Lucy?” I ask her. I'm not normally one
to make small talk, but I'm dying to know anything I can about this
girl—and it's either make small talk with her or throw her over my
shoulder and carry her out of her to take her somewhere and bang
her within an inch of her life. My hand tightens around the
champagne flute as I feel sticky precum rush to my tip.
Fuck, I’ve never been this hard up for a girl I scarcely know.
“I currently work as a teacher's aide. I'm going to school to be a
teacher myself,” she tells me proudly.
I let my eyes rove over her pretty face again, my chest tightening
at how sweet she looks. “I bet all the kids love you.”
She blushes before she goes on, “I love children. I always have.”
Fuck, she looks so innocent. So pure. Everything about her
screams “good.”
I place a hand on her hip as I take a step closer to her. Her eyes
widen at the touch, but I can't stop myself. “A teacher? I wonder
what you could teach me?” I murmur to her.
Her eyes get even wider as her face flushes. “Or perhaps,” I lean
down until my lips are right against her ear, “there are a few things I
could teach you.”
I hear her breath catch, and I inhale deeply, taking in her flowery
scent. Fuck, she even smells sweet—like a little flower. It’s probably
a dick thought for me to have, but I can't help wondering if she's a
virgin. I'm not one of those guys who gets off on popping girls’
cherries, but fuck, I'd love to be this woman's first and only.
“Lucy!” I suddenly hear someone calling her name. I look up at
the same time Lucy does to see Karen striding over to us. Of course.
I assumed she was one of Karen's guests since I'd never met her
before.
“Oh, I see you've met Luke!” Karen beams between us before
she comes over and hugs my neck like we're old acquaintances and
didn't just meet yesterday.
I know she means well, though, so I pat her back awkwardly and
then pull back to notice that Lucy is about the same height and
stature as Karen.
“Well, what do you think?” Karen asks Lucy with a wide smile.
Lucy laughs and shakes her head as if she's just as confused as I
am. Is Karen hoping to set her guest up with me? I’m certainly not
averse to that idea…
I'd love nothing more than to be set up with this beauty.
 “Yeah, Mom. He's really nice.”
My world comes crashing to a halt. Wait. Mom?
My eyes flick between Karen and Lucy, and it feels like a lead
weight has been dropped into my stomach.
I see the resemblance now. I obviously make the connection
before Lucy does, but I see the moment she realizes it too because
her face pales as Karen chirps happily, “Wonderful! I'm so glad to
see you're getting along well with your new stepbrother. Have you
met Noah and Charlie yet?”
“Stepbrother?” Lucy whispers before she looks up at me with
horror.
Fuck.
 two

Lucy

MY STEPBROTHER. Luke is my new stepbrother.

My cheeks color with irritation when I see the flash of anger in
his blue eyes that were just warm and inviting like napalm pools.
Now, they’re like shards of glass that could cut me. He's looking at
me like he somehow thinks this is all my fault. What? Did he think I
knew he was my new stepbrother?
Moreover, I'm not the one who was shamelessly flirting with me.
He is. He's the one who came on to me.
I barely hear what my mom is chattering on about.
“Don’t you think, Lucy?’
Her question gets my attention.
“What?” I ask her.
Luke blinks and frowns at my mom too.
“Isn’t it great that Luke owns his own tattoo parlor?” Mom beams
at Luke proudly like he's the son she always wishes she had.
My eyes flick down to his big, strong-looking hands, and I can
see the tattoos decorating his knuckles. I bet the hard slabs of
muscle under his tuxedo are covered in tats too. Are both of his
arms tattered, or does he just have one sleeve?
 I purse my lips together, irritated that I even want to know. He’s
my stepbrother. I don't care how many tats cover his body or what
they look like. I certainly don't want to trace my fingers over each
one of them.
He must misinterpret my pursed lips and narrowed gaze as
disapproval because he crosses his arms and smirks down at me. “I
imagine an aspiring teacher isn't into tattoos much. Am I right?”
He raises a mocking eyebrow at me, and my hand twitches with
the urge to slap that smug look off his face. If he only knew I'd gone
through my own rebellious stage when I was a teenager.
Well, technically I'm still a teenager, but I'm on the cusp of
official adulthood. I’m almost twenty.
Anyway, it would really shock him to know that I have a small
tattoo no one knows about. Not even my mom, but that’s none of
his business, and I'm certainly not going to be telling him that.
Because why the hell do I care what he thinks?
I don't take the time to correct him. Instead, I give my mom a
warm hug and tell her again how happy I am for her. And I really
am. I'm happy that she finally fell in love again. My mom deserves it.
She's an amazing woman, and even though Luke seems like an ass
now that he knows there's no chance of getting in my pants, his
dad, Jeff Callahan, seems like a decent guy and he's head over heels
for my mom, which is all I can ask of my future stepdad.
“Have you met Noah and Charlie yet?” My mom points across the
room to two other hulking men. They're almost as big as Luke, but
whereas Luke has dark hair, one of them has sandy brown hair, and
the other looks like a Herculean god with his blond hair.
Sweet baby Jesus. What is it with the Callahan men? All three of
my stepbrothers look like they belong on the cover of romance
novels. Jeff’s not so bad looking himself, but he's nothing like his
boys.
I shake my head at my mom and smile at her apologetically. “No,
but I'm afraid it's going to have to wait till another time, Mom. I've
got a paper I need to finish writing.”
It’s a lie. I already wrote the damn paper, but I don't want to be
subjected to my other two stepbrothers right now. If their
disposition is as sunny as Luke’s, I certainly don't want to meet them
yet. I'm sure I'll meet them soon enough anyway.
“Oh,” my mom pouts. “Are you sure, honey? You work so hard.”
She gives me a warm smile that lets me know she's proud of me.
My mom has always been my biggest cheerleader, and my chest
swells with love as I hug her again. As much as I don't want to even
look at my new stepbrother again, I force myself to smile at him
politely. “It was nice meeting you, Luke.” I tell him cordially.
“The pleasure was all mine, baby sis.”
My mom is smiling at us happily, completely unaware of the
tension sparking between us and the sarcasm in the way Luke called
me “baby sis.”
I purse my lips to keep from scowling at him, and I see his eyes
light with wicked humor, though I still see a spark of that anger in
them, and that pisses me off to no end. Like it's my fucking fault
that he didn't know who I was and hit on his new stepsister. The
man is an egotistical pig. I don't care how hot he is.
I turn on my heel and walk away, but I feel his icy blue eyes
burning into me with every step.
When I get to the door of the chapel, I chance a glance back
over my shoulder. His eyes are still trained on me, burning hotter
than the brightest blue flame. I scowl at him and resist flipping him
off.
Instead, I flip my hair over my shoulder before I flounce out of
the chapel.
His miscalculation is his problem, and I'm not going to waste
another thought on him.
So why does my heart give a little pang when I remember how
nice he was before he found out who I am?
 three

Luke

“WHAT CRAWLED UP YOUR ASS?” My brother

Charlie claps me on the back. I growl and give him a “piss off.”
He holds his hands up in surrender and steps back. He knows he
doesn’t want to mess with me when I'm in this kind of mood.
“Whoa, that bad, huh?”
Yeah, I'm in a pissy mood—ever since her. I knock back the rest
of the champagne and fight to keep from swinging the flute across
the room and smashing it against the wall in frustration.
The most perfect girl I've ever seen is one of my damn
stepsisters. The universe fucking hates me. I’m pissed off because I
know she's off-limits.
I’m even more pissed off that my cock is still hard for her. The
fucker hasn't gone down at all. In fact, every time I remember the
way her cheeks blushed and how she smiled at me so radiantly, it
makes me ache for her even more. I want her, but I can't have her
because my dad would have to marry her fucking mom.
Yeah, I'm pissed off.
“Have you met all of our new stepsisters yet?”
My lips twist in irony.
“Oh, so we have three baby sisters now?” I ask sardonically.
 Charlie gives me a quizzical look. “What? Did you want brothers?”
I cut him a look. “No, two fuckheads are enough.”
He grins at me, his eyes cutting over to watch a pretty redhead.
His smile fades, and he becomes contemplative. I don’t know what
all that’s about, but I have my own problems, so I don’t ask.
“I met one of them,” I finally grumble. “Lucy.”
Charlie nods. “That's the one I haven't met yet. What was she
like?”
“Young,” I deadpan.
“Yeah, I hear she's the youngest one,” Charlie says. Figures. My
dick would have to pick the youngest one to lust after. “There's
Sharon, the oldest one.” He nods over at the pretty redhead and
then Cynthia, the middle child.” He motions over to a blonde beauty.
“Lucy is the baby.”
My jaw firms at hearing another man call her “baby” even though
I know my brother didn't mean it in the context I'm taking it.
She is a baby. A sweet baby. My baby.
I scowl at the possessive thought. She's not my anything—unless
you count my stepsister.
I grab another flute of champagne and down the entire thing.
Charlie merely chuckles before shaking his head. “Man, you really
do hate these kinds of things huh?”
“Yes,” I growl out. Let Charlie think that’s what's wrong with me.
Everyone knows I hate dressing up like a fucking penguin.
“Well, I guess I need to go formally introduce myself to the
youngest sister,” Charlie says.
“You can't,” I tell him dryly. “She already left.”
Charlie raises an eyebrow at me. “She had to write a paper or
something,” I grumble. “She's in college.”
“Oh yeah, she’s going to be a teacher, right?” Charlie comments
absently as his eyes flit back over to the redheaded sister. What did
he say her name was? Sharon? I don't know. I can't even keep up
with my other two stepsisters’ names because the only one I can
think about is my little Lucy.
“Well, I guess there's time to meet her. I'm sure we'll all meet
each other soon enough.” Charlie claps me on the back again, and I
grit my teeth.
I hate the way he does this shit like he thinks he's the alpha of
the three of us brothers. He may be one year older than me, and he
might be the golden child for being the CEO of his own company,
but we both know I can still whoop his ass. I've got an extra foot on
him in height, and I'm bigger and brawnier too.
“You going go introduce yourself to the other two?” He raises an
eyebrow at me. “Get it over with?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Like you said, I'm sure we'll all meet
each other soon enough. I'm out of here.”
I've had enough of this shit. My mood is officially soured, and all
I want to do is go home and do my best to forget all about Lucy
Shay and her big brown eyes.
 four

Lucy

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” I chant to myself as I fumble on the

nightstand for my phone. I flick on the flashlight app and hold it up
into the pitch-black darkness.
My power just went out, and I know I paid my electric bill. I walk
over to the window and peek out the blinds, frowning when I see
that everyone else's house on the block has lights but mine.
I swipe up to unlock my phone and call the electric company to
report the outage, but no sooner do I pull up the keypad does my
phone die.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I chant again. I'm notorious for not keeping my
phone charged, and I guess Sharon is right when she's always
ragging me about it. If I was more responsible and kept it charged
up, I wouldn't be in this mess.
I chew on my bottom lip as I consider what to do. I've got to call
the power company and let them know that something's up with my
power, but now I don't have a phone to do that with. I don't really
like the thought of traipsing over to one of my neighbor's houses in
my sleep shorts and ratty old tank top, but it's much too dark in here
for me to see to change clothes.
 I fumble around where I keep my rope hanging and finally find it
and slip it onto my shoulders before I stumble my way to the kitchen
and feel around for my shoes.
“Dammit!” I curse when I can't find them anywhere.
I finally yank open the door and step out into the humid night air
sans shoes. I look left and right indecisively. I don't know any of my
neighbors. I've always kept to myself, so I don't know which way to
go.
It's completely juvenile, but I recite a verse of eeny, meeny, miny,
moe in my head. I turn to the house that was “not it” and begin
marching across the yard barefoot.
Hopefully, my neighbor won't be too pissed off about me
knocking on their door this late at night, though in all fairness most
people don't go to bed as early as me, so they should be up.
My suspicions are proved correct whenever I walk up to the door
and hear heavy metal music blaring through it. I chew on my lip
nervously, contemplating whether I chose the right house, but I'm
already here, so I raise my fist and knock on the door firmly.
There’s no answer. They likely can’t hear me over the blaring
music, so I increase the force of my knocks. I suppose I could just
traipse over to my neighbor on the other side.
When nobody comes to the door, I drop my hand with a sigh and
turn to leave, but then the music suddenly gets louder as the door
opens.
I turn back around, my eyes widening and a gasp falling from my
lips when I see who's standing in the doorway.
It's Luke.
He's completely bare-chested, answering my question about the
tats covering the rest of his body. His entire chest is inked as are
both sleeves. I can't stop staring at the colors as well as the hard
ridges of muscle lining his abdomen. He clearly hits the gym very
regularly. Either that or he's the most blessed man I've ever seen in
my life.
He's got on a pair of low-slung joggers, and his dark hair is
carelessly disheveled in that sexy way that only men can accomplish.
My eyes finally make their way up his chest to his blue gaze.
 I see surprise on his slack-jawed face that’s lined with stubble,
but then his lips press into a thin line, and his eyes harden as he
growls, “What are you doing here?”

Luke

“I'm sorry,” the girl who I haven't been able to get out of my mind all
day stammers as she takes a step back and turns to hurry back to
wherever she came from.
My eyes flick to the street. I don’t see a car there. I take in her
bare feet and scantily clad form under her robe and frown.
A pang of guilt hits me at the thought that she might be in some
sort of trouble. “No, wait,” I call after her as I grab her hand.
She stills as my hand closes around her wrist, looking down at
where I hold her captive before her eyes lift to mine.
I suck in a breath. It’s like a punch straight to my jugular seeing
those big doe-brown eyes staring up at me again.
“Something's obviously wrong.” My voice comes out low. “What is
it?”
She pulls her hand from mine before she glances over to the
house next door. “My power went out, and my phone is dead.” She
holds up an iPhone with a blank screen as if to illustrate. “I thought
I'd ask one of my neighbors if I could borrow their phone to call the
electric company. I obviously chose the wrong one,” she adds before
she turns and starts walking off my porch again.
“Whoa, there! Wait a minute!” I'm out of the door in a flash and
circling around to stand in front of her. I block her path with a hand
on either column of my porch. She stops short, gazing up at me
wide-eyed. Holy fuck. I just moved into this house about a week
ago. How have I never seen her before now? “Who said I won't help
you?” I ask her gruffly.
 She cuts me a look. “You hate me.”
I blink and shake my head. “I don't hate you, sweet thing. On
the contrary, what I feel for you is far from hate.”
Her mouth falls open, and she blinks up at me. I internally curse
myself for revealing too much. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Why do I act like a fool over this girl?
My stepsister, a little voice inside my head reminds me.
“Come on inside, and I'll call the electric company for you.” I
motion her in the house, and she hesitates before I add, “I’m not
letting you go back to that dark house all alone.”
She raises an eyebrow up at me.
“As your big brother, it's my job to protect you now, right?”
She frowns before she mumbles, “You're not my brother.”
I don't answer. Instead, I just look at her until she huffs and
stalks into my house. I fight back a grin when she flips her brown
hair over her shoulder just like she did earlier when she was leaving
the chapel. I sober when I remember why we’re suddenly at each
other's throats.
I close the door and then walk over to turn down my stereo. I
swallow when I glance back at her and see her robe hanging open,
giving me a glimpse of extremely short shorts and a too-small tank
top. I motion to her get-up, suddenly irritated with her, “You're
telling me that's how you go traipsing over to a neighbor's house?”
Her face colors, and she lifts her chin defiantly. “In case you
don't understand what out of power means, it means I don't have
any electricity so there were no lights for me to find other clothes to
change into. This is what I sleep in.”
I grunt, pissed off at the thought that she could have shown up
at another man's door and he could have seen her dressed like this.
Anything could have happened to her. There are plenty of men out
there who would take advantage of a pretty little thing like her out
all alone at night looking for help.
As it is, I can see her shapely legs and a patch of her abdomen
showing where her shirt doesn't come all the way down to meet the
top of her shorts.
 Her hair tumbles loose down her shoulders. It looks like she's
just been lying in bed—or just been fucked. My jaw tightens at that
last thought. I don't like the thought of anyone else touching her—
much less giving her just-fucked hair.
“Have you had company tonight?” I ask her.
Her brow furrows, and she shakes her head. “No, but I don't see
how that's any of your business.”
My lips thin at her smart-ass tone, but something within me
calms at the knowledge that she hasn't had another man over in her
bed.
I walk over and grab my phone to report her power outage. The
operator says he doesn't have a clue why just her power would be
out and that they'll send someone over in the morning to look at it.
Lucy’s shoulders slump when I tell her that, but she nods and
thanks me before she turns and starts heading toward the door.
“Wait!” Panic flares in my chest at seeing her leave. I scowl at my
reaction. “Where are you going?”
She stills with her hand on the doorknob before she glances over
at me like I'm an idiot. “Home?” she says it sarcastically in a “duh”
tone before her voice softens and she adds, as if making up for her
bad manners,” Thank you for reporting the outage. There's nothing
they can do tonight. I can make it without power one night.”
“No,” I say firmly as I walk over and plant a hand on the door,
keeping her from opening it. “You'll stay here tonight.”
She looks up at me in surprise. Hell, I'm just as surprised as she
is by what just came out of my mouth. This is stupid, man, part of
my brain tells me, but there’s another part that says, You can’t let
her go home alone to a powerless house. What if she's afraid of the
dark?
Still, another part of me is dying to see what the rest of her looks
like underneath that robe.
My eyes trail over her, taking in the slight flush to her skin, and
before I can even think about what I'm doing, I'm sliding it off her,
my hands grazing her shoulders as I do so.
Her eyes lift to me, and she swallows before she says my name
breathily, “Luke.”
 I watch the goosebumps prickle her skin as my gaze roves over
the gentle swell of her breasts. Her nipples are hard underneath the
fabric that’s so thin I can almost see the darkened circles of her
areolas around them.
My cock is suddenly tenting my joggers, straining to get at her.
I watch as if it's someone else doing it as my hands slide down
her arms and over her waist and the curve of her hips. Her little
chest heaves up and down as her breathing quickens.
She licks her lips, and I stare at the way they glint with moisture
in the lamplight.
“Luke,” she whispers my name again, and I know I shouldn’t, but
God help me if I can stop it. I take her hips firmly in my hands and
pull her flush against me, pressing my aching, leaking cock right up
against her as I crash my lips down onto hers.
 five

Lucy

EVERY MUSCLE in my body turns to jelly when Luke pulls

me flush against him. His tongue slips effortlessly into my mouth,
seeking mine out and tangling with it, luring it to dance with his.
I know I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself now if I tried. I kiss
him back, moving my tongue against his. His arms tighten around
me when he feels me kissing him back.
I whimper into his mouth as he kisses me hungrily, desperately,
and he growls into mine in response. I feel the rumble of his growl
in my own chest.
He lifts me with a hand gripping both my thighs, and I
instinctively wrap my legs around him.
He slams me up against the door and growls as he deepens the
kiss, and his dominance sends fire rushing along every nerve ending
in my body.
Without thinking about what I’m doing, I begin rubbing myself
against his hard bulge. Pleasure snaps between my legs at the
delicious friction of my clit rubbing over his hardness.
“Yes,” he hisses in my ear. “Rub that sweet little kitty all over
Daddy’s dick, baby.”
 I should be repulsed by his words, but my entire body trembles
at them instead, and moisture pools between my thighs as I’m more
turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I don’t have daddy
issues or anything. I had a great relationship with my father when
he was alive, but something about hearing Luke call himself my
daddy sends me into a frenzy.
It’s so forbidden, so taboo, even more so than him being my
stepbrother, and it causes another whimper to rise out of my chest.
Nothing has ever felt more right. Yes, Luke is my daddy, and I’m
his little girl, and if feeling this way is wrong, then I don’t want to be
right.
Luke yanks my tank top down, and I hear a rip as he tears the
flimsy fabric. He growls as his mouth descends on my breast,
suckling a nipple deeply.
My head thumps as it falls back against the wall. The hot cave of
his mouth is lighting me on fire, and it’s amazing how I feel the
sensation of his tongue circling over my hardened bud right in
between my legs.
My folds slicken, and my pussy throbs, aching to be filled.
He rips my shorts clean off my body like a caveman, completely
ruining them in the process, but I don’t care. Fuck it. I have other
shorts.
His hand skates down between my legs. He delves a finger into
my wet folds before groaning. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, sweet
baby.” He gathers up some of my moisture and rubs my clit in
rhythmic circles.
“Oh god, Luke!” I cry out.
“Nu-uh,” he tsks at me. “What do you call me when my fingers
are in between your sopping wet cunt?”
I feel my core tighten at his words, and I sob in frustration as my
pussy clenches around air.
“Huh?” he prompts me when I don’t answer, slowing his
movements.
“Daddy!” I cry out, desperate for him to pick up the pace again.
“That’s a good girl,” he praises me before he crashes his lips onto
mine again, rubbing his thumb over my clit faster than ever now.
 “Tell me, sweet baby,” he whispers against my lips, “have you
been saving this little cherry for your daddy?”
I blink and look at him dazedly. “How did you know?” I ask him
weakly.
His eyes darken with triumph, and he lets out a choked sound as
he slips down his joggers. His hard cock bobs free and slaps my
thigh. I feel the moisture leaking from the tip as it slides against me.
“I didn’t,” he confesses as he lines himself up with my hole, “but
I dared to hope. He grabs the nape of my neck and looks into my
eyes wildly as he tells me, “It’s a good thing you’ve never given this
pussy to anyone else, though, baby, because I’m a very jealous
daddy. I’ll fucking murder anyone who touches you. Do you
understand me? You’re mine now.”
He thrusts up into me, tearing through my innocence with one
swift plunge. I scream at the sting, but he shushes me. “You didn’t
think I was going to go easy on you, did you, sweet baby? No,
you’re going to take your stepbrother’s dick like a big girl. I know
you can handle it.”
I’m stretched impossibly wide at his girth. I cling to him, my arms
wrapped tightly about his neck as I shudder and wiggle on his
length, trying to ease some of it out of me, but it’s no use. He keeps
himself speared fully inside me and presses even deeper into me,
pinning my back to the wall.
I gasp out a breath, and he groans in my ear, “Don’t run from it,
baby. I promise you’ll get used to it, and then you’ll be begging
Daddy to give it to you deep and dirty.”
My pussy ripples at his words, and he groans a sound of primal
male satisfaction. “See?” he breathes in my ear triumphantly. “You
can’t hide from me. I know you’re a dirty little girl. You love it when
I talk dirty to you, don’t you? You want me to dick your little pussy
down, don’t you? Want your stepbrother to raw dog you and fill you
with my nasty cum, don’t you?”
My pussy clenches around him hard, and he presses deeper into
me, hitting a spot inside me that causes my eyes to roll back in my
head in pleasure. There’s still some pain, but there’s pleasure too,
and they offset each other, only heightening the experience.
 “Fuuck,” Luke growls as he pulls out of me and presses back in,
the hot, wet slide of his huge cock stroking my inner walls creating
ripples of pleasure inside me in places I never knew pleasure could
exist.
I push back down on him, and he hisses in a breath. “Yes, that’s
it, baby. Throw that little virgin pussy back down on Daddy’s dick.
Show me how much you want this.”
“Yes, Daddy!” I moan, and that seems to detonate something
inside Luke because he stutters out a breath and then curses before
he begins pounding up into me savagely.
The wet slap of our sexes moving together fills the room along
with Luke’s ragged pants. Something builds inside me deep, and I
cling to Luke, begging incoherently. I don’t know what I’m begging
for, just that whatever it is he can give it to me and it’s going to be
monumental. Luke fists my hair in his hand and tips my head back,
scraping his teeth along my neck. “Come for Daddy,” he rasps out
against my ear, and as if all I was waiting for was his command, my
body explodes.
I let out a keening sound as I shatter, my body convulsing in his
arms. I feel his cock swelling inside me, getting impossibly bigger
and longer, and then he lets out a guttural roar as his release spurts
up into me in hot pulses.
He continues to grunt and groan as his body quakes with each
pulse. I don’t know how much a man is supposed to come, but Luke
seems to come forever. He comes until it won’t all fit in my body,
and I feel it dripping down the insides of my thighs.
I’m limp in his arms as he kisses my forehead and carries me
through his house to his bed. I’m still mindless from the orgasm he
gave me—my first orgasm—when I feel him tuck me into the covers
and slide in behind me.
No sooner does he wrap his arms around me, spooning me from
behind, do I give in to my tiredness and fall asleep.
 six

Luke

I ROLL over and reach for Lucy, a smile already on my face. I

don't give a fuck if she is my stepsister. We aren't any blood relation,
and last night just proved that this girl is meant to be mine. I knew
it the first moment I looked at her, and it was pointless to fight it.
I frown and sit up when I find the bed empty.
Somehow, I already know that she's not going to be in the
bathroom, but I check it anyway. My stomach sinks when I return to
the bedroom and find a note laying on my nightstand.

Luke,

Last night was a mistake. Let's pretend it never happened.

Please.

L
I stare down at the note incredulously before I ball it into a fist in
rage. “L.” She signed her name fucking “L.” she couldn't even sign
her full name.
After a night that changed my life forever, all she gives me is
three sentences. Three motherfucking sentences. Three sentences
to rip my heart out and stomp on it like it's nothing to her.
My heart twists within me. Last night may have been nothing to
her, but it was everything to me. I think back on how right she felt in
my arms, how she quaked on my cock and called me daddy.
I firm my jaw. No, she can deny it all she wants, but she feels
this connection too. I know she does.
I look at the time and pass a weary hand over my face. As much
as I’d love nothing more than to find her right now and make my
feelings known, it's well past eight o'clock, so I know she's at work
where I should be too.
I sullenly take a shower and throw on a pair of jeans and a black
T-shirt before I go into my studio. My employees are already there
getting to work on inking up some of our clients.
While I have a booking today, I hand it over to Darren, knowing
that he'll be able to handle the intricacies of the design. I'm in no
mood to be inking anyone right now. With my volatile temperament,
I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to focus.
Instead, I lock myself up in my office and spend my time on the
computer, finding out everything I can about Lucy Shay.
I creep her social media, my chest squeezing at every picture I
see of her. She's so pretty, so innocent-looking in each one with that
radiant smile of hers.
I get the name of the school where she works from her profile,
and then I sit there at my desk, drumming my fingers as I stare at
the clock like a student waiting for the bell to ring.
Fuck it. I'm going crazy here. As the clock gets closer to the end
of the school day, I grab the keys to my bike and head on over to
the school where I sit outside across the street and wait for all the
kids to leave.
When most of the kids have dispersed, I make my way into the
building. It doesn't take me long to find the room she works in. A
quick peek into the classroom shows that the coast is clear and she's
the only one in the room.
I slip inside and lock the door, making sure the blinds are closed.
She straightens from where she was bending over by the desk and
gasps when she sees me, dropping the papers in her hand. They
scatter to the floor between us.
She ignores them. I ignore them.
Instead, she stands there staring at me as I begin stalking over
to her like a predator sensing his prey.
“What’re you doing here?”
I cock my head to the side. “Isn't it obvious? Looking for you.”
Her hands tremble as she squats down to pick up the papers. I
bend down myself and gather them all up for her. My hands brush
hers in the process, and her breath catches at the touch. I feel her
shiver where our skin touches.
Her eyes flick up to me. Without ever looking away from her, I
reach up and lay the papers on the desk before I grasp her hands
and pull her up to stand with me.
“Luke, if this is about last night…” her voice wavers. “It was…”
I hold a finger up to her lips to shush her before finishing her
sentence, “Just the beginning.”
She frowns and moves to shake her head, but I fist my hand in
her hair at the nape of her neck and hold her still.
I lean in until her sweet flowery scent wraps around me
intoxicatingly. I inhale deeply like I’m taking a hit of her before I
speak directly into her ear, “You don't come all over a man's cock
and call him daddy if it doesn't mean anything. You’re not fooling
anyone, sweet girl.”
“Luke,” her voice trembles. “We’re stepbrother and stepsister. It's
not right.”
“Tell me that when I've got my face buried in your sweet pussy,”
I tell her as I lift her onto the edge of the desk. She lets out a
squeak as I kneel in front of her and push her little yellow dress up.
I pull her panties to the side.
“Luke,” she says my name like she's going to stop me, but I don't
give her the chance. Instead, I latch my mouth directly onto her clit
and begin to lick and suck in pulsing movements that I know will
drive her crazy.
“Oh god!” Her head falls back on a moan, and she spears her tiny
fingers into my hair, pulling me closer.
I wrap my arms around her thighs and drag her cunt closer to
my face as I eat her out enthusiastically, licking and sucking on her
like my life depends on it. And it does because she's my life, and
there's no way in hell I'm letting her slip through my fingers.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I prompt her.
She stiffens underneath me, and I suck on her harder, swirling
my tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves until she melts
against me again.
“Tell me,” I order her again.
She presses her lips together and still resists, so I suck her more
earnestly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge only to back off
again.
“Say it!” I growl against her, my arms taut with tension. We’re in
a battle of wills, but I will dominate her.
She doesn’t speak, so I edge her again.
She lets out a growl of frustration and glares down at me with
lust-riddled eyes.
I glare back at her from between her legs, flicking her clit
torturously slowly before she finally cries out angrily, “Yes! Yes! I’m
yours!”
“Good girl,” I snarl out in satisfaction before I hollow my cheeks
and finish her off by plugging her hole with two fingers while I bat
my tongue over her clit repeatedly.
She cries out, her fingers tightening in my hair painfully, but I
welcome the pain. Her sweet juices flood my face, and I drink her
up greedily.
My cock is aching so bad it's near to bursting. Fuck, I’ve got to
have her.
Just as I'm standing and getting ready to set my swollen length
free and plunge inside her sweet depths, there's a knock on the
door.
 Lucy turns her flushed face to me, panic lighting her eyes before
she pushes me away and hops off the desk.
She struggles to right her clothing and smooth out her hair. Her
face is flushed, and she gives me a warning glance as she walks
over to the door and opens it.
“Miss Minerva,” she greets the teacher warmly. “I'm so sorry! I
don't know how that happened. The door must have fallen shut.”
The teacher's eyes flick between me and Lucy curiously before
Lucy volunteers, “I’d like you to meet my stepbrother, Luke.”
I nod at the teacher but don’t offer her my hand. She probably
wouldn’t appreciate shaking the hand that was just in her aide’s
cunt.
She smiles at me cordially as she gushes about Lucy. “Nice to
meet you. Your stepsister is a godsend. I don't know what I would
do without her.”
If the woman suspects what Lucy and I were just doing or smells
the scent of sex still lingering in the air, she makes no hint of it.
“Luke was just leaving,” Lucy says as she gives me a pointed
look.
I stuff my hands in my pockets and smile back at her. “I don’t
mind waiting for you, baby sis. Thought I’d give you a ride home.”
Lucy’s eyes cut daggers at me, and I have to fight back my
smirk.
“That’s okay. You go ahead,” she tells me. “I plan on staying late
tonight.”
The teacher pats Lucy on the arm and smiles at her kindly. “Now,
Lucy, darling, there’s no need for that. You've got me more caught
up than any other teacher in this hallway.” The teacher smiles at me,
and I grin back at her indulgently. “You go on home with your
stepbrother, dear. It was very sweet of him to stop by to take you
home.”
I smile at Lucy smugly.
Her face falls as she bids the teacher goodnight before she grabs
her purse and stalks out of the room in front of me.
She's pissed. I can feel it rolling off her in waves. But I grin to
myself because I know exactly how to make her purr.
 seven

Lucy

“NO WAY,” I say when I see Luke's motorcycle parked on the

side of the curb. “You're not getting me on that death trap.”
He gives me that infuriating smirk of his as he says challengingly,
“Lucy, are you that uptight that you won’t ride a motorcycle?”
I huff and cross my arms over my chest. “It has nothing to do
with being uptight,” I retort back. “It has to do with having common
sense—something you obviously have none of.” I quote off statistics
of how many people die in motorcycle accidents every year, but he
walks over to the back of the bike and ignores me as he grabs the
helmet and plops it onto my head.
It's way too big for me, which lets me know it must be his, but
he still pulls the strap as tight as it can go under my chin.
I glare up at him, and he gives me a crooked grin that makes my
heart do a little flip in my chest. Damn him.
“You look adorable,” he murmurs before he bends down and
drops a kiss on my nose. “And you’re always safe with me,” he adds.
I look around, my cheeks flaming. “Someone could have seen
you,” I protest.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “So what? A brother can’t give his baby
sister an affectionate kiss on the nose?”
 “You're not my brother,” I grit out.
“My point exactly,” he comments dryly.
I open my mouth to argue further, but he places his hands on my
waist and lifts me as if I weigh no more than a feather before
dropping me onto the back of his bike. His eyes rove over my
exposed thighs where my dress hikes up before settling on the
panties I know are showing in between my legs.
He climbs onto the bike in front of me and arranges the dress
under his butt to keep it from flying up before he grabs my arms and
winds them around his middle.
“Hold on tight, baby girl,” he tells me as he revs up the motor.
I close my eyes as he pulls off from the curb. I clutch tightly
against him, trying not to notice how good it feels to be this close to
him. The scent of his cologne wraps around me, and I open my eyes
and watch as we speed off down the highway.
Although I'm still terrified out of my mind, I enjoy the ride
despite myself. It actually feels good having the wind whipping
against my skin. There's a certain freedom in riding on the open
road like this.
Still, I'm glad when Luke pulls up to his house, and it ends. He
dismounts from the bike with one fluid motion before he turns me
and lifts me off it like he’s plucking me off a horse.
I unsnap his helmet and hand it back to him. He takes it and
then wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close against him,
but I keep my wits about me this time and place my palms flat
against his chest and push with all my might.
He stumbles back and releases me with a frown. I know better
than to let him get his lips on me because once he does, all rational
thought will go out the window. I know this.
“Thank you for the ride,” I tell him stiffly, “but this has to end
here.”
He shakes his head stubbornly.
“Luke,” my voice turns pleading as I beg him to understand. “You
have to see why this won't work, right? My mom is married to your
dad,” I remind him.
 He just blinks at me and firms his jaw stubbornly before he
growls out, “I don't give a fuck about all that.”
I purse my lips and cross my arms as I glare back at him. “Well,
you should.”
“Well, I don't,” he bites back stubbornly.
I shake my head and begin walking toward my house. I feel his
hand wrap around my wrist.
I turn around and yank myself free from his hold.
“Stop!” I raise my voice at him firmly.
He stops in his tracks, though his eyes flare with anger.
“Leave me alone,” I tell him in as stern of a voice as I can
muster. I hear my voice wobble at the end and pray he doesn’t.
He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously before he growls at me,
“You don’t mean that, Lucy. You don't want me to leave you alone.”
“I do,” I lie before I turn and make my way quickly across the
yard to my house.
Just like I did two days ago at the chapel, I turn when I get to
the door. Luke is standing there with his feet spread apart, his hands
balled into fists at his side. My heart trips within me at how fierce he
looks.
The blue fires of his eyes blaze at me, and my heart aches as I
slip into my house and close the door.
It's not fair. Luke is everything I never even knew I wanted, and I
can't have him.
Because he's my stepbrother.
 eight

Lucy

IT DOESN'T HELP that I dream of being wrapped up in

Luke's arms all night. My mind keeps playing back the way he took
me that first time and the deliciously filthy things he whispered in
my ear.
I remember the way he brought me to my knees with just his
mouth in the classroom yesterday. That was completely
unprofessional of me to let him do that, and I vow to myself that I
can't be alone with him anymore because he's too good at breaking
down my defenses.
Of course, it would be easier to avoid him if he didn't live right
next door to me.
When I walk out to go to school in the morning, he's up bright
and early, sitting on his porch, staring at me as I wait for my Uber to
pull up.
I throw myself into my work and try my best not to think of him,
but I’d be lying if I said that my mind didn’t constantly wander to
him.
At the end of the school day, I’m just ready to hurry up and get
home, but I wince when Coach Tomlin calls my name just as I'm
walking out the doors.
 “Lucy!”
I close my eyes and take in a deep breath before I turn around
and greet him with what I hope is a passable smile. “Coach Tomlin,
how are you?”
I take in the man's buff physique and sandy brown hair. He's not
a bad-looking guy. Many women would love to have his attention,
and he's asked me out several times, but every time, I come up with
a reason to put him off. I just don't think it would be good protocol
to date a co-worker, even though he's a teacher and I'm technically
just a teacher's aide.
Not only that, I'm just not interested in him.
“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Looking forward to a night
off from coaching,” he laughs, and I brace myself for what I already
know is coming.
He rubs the back of his neck before he begins, “I was wondering
since I had some time off if you'd have dinner with me tonight?”
“Oh,” I'm already shaking my head and trying to come up with a
feasible reason why I can't. I've already killed off all of my
grandparents to get out of going out on a date with this man, and
I'm starting to wonder if maybe I shouldn’t just tell him as gently as
I can that I'm not interested.
I'm getting ready to do just that when I spot Luke sitting astride
his motorcycle across the street. His fiery blue eyes are pinned on
me, and I can see how hard his jaw is all the way over here.
My eyes flick between the two men. It looks like I have two
choices. If I get out of a date with Tomlin, there's no way Luke is
going to let me get by him.
My eyes slip back to Tomlin. I won't have any problem resisting
him, so it looks like he's the safer of the two options.
Plus, maybe if Luke sees me with another man, he'll finally get
the picture and give up, realizing that we can never be.
I look back at Tomlin and smile. “I'd love to.”
He blinks in pleasant surprise and then smiles a wide grin that
splits his face. “Yeah? That's wonderful. Well, my car's right this
way.” He motions for me to walk ahead of him, and I do, feeling
Luke's fiery gaze on me with every step I take.
 A pang of remorse hits me at letting Luke watch me walk away
with another man, but I tell myself that it's necessary. I have to be
cruel to be kind. Isn't that how the saying goes?
I try to keep up with the conversation as Tomlin makes small talk
with me on the way to whatever restaurant he has picked out for us.
He doesn't even ask what I prefer, and I'm honestly okay with that
because the last thing on my mind right now is food. I don't think I
could choose a place if I had to.
He pulls up to the curb of some Italian place he swears is the
best restaurant in town, and I let him lead me into the building. He
secures us a table in the back corner of the room, and I glance
halfheartedly at the menu to pick something out to order. I'm not
super hungry, but I know that if a girl just gets a salad when she's
on a date with a guy, the guy will automatically assume that she's
just trying to look dainty in front of him. I don’t want Tomlin thinking
I’m trying to impress him’ so I pick a mid-sized meal to order as I
absently wonder what Luke would order.
I start when I suddenly feel a hand on mine. I look up to find
Tomlin regarding me with adoration in his eyes, and I feel the prick
of guilt at leading him on like this, knowing that I am not at all
interested in him.
I move to pull my hand from his, but before I ever get the
chance to, Tomlin is violently ripped from his seat by the scruff of his
collar.
I gasp as I look up and see Luke staring down at the man, his
eyes blazing furiously. “Keep your fucking hands off her,” he growls
at Tomlin.
Tomlin sputters as I hiss at Luke, “What are you doing here?”
His blue eyes turn to me with molten fury before he throws
Tomlin roughly back in his seat and bends over to pick me up and
fling me over his shoulder.
My cheeks color as I feel the stares of the other patrons in the
restaurant watching the scene we’re making.
“Put me down!” I hiss at him angrily.
He ignores me and stomps out of the restaurant with me slung
over his shoulder, though I notice he takes great care to plant his
arm over the bottom of my dress so he doesn’t flash everyone my
ass.
Once we get by Luke's bike, he sets me on my feet. I plant my
hands on my hips and glare up at him, vibrating with my own rage.
“Just who do you think—”
He cuts me off by grasping my face in his hands and smashing
his lips onto mine. His kiss is hard and punishing, and it silences me
immediately as my brain short circuits.
My knees give out from underneath me, and he clutches me
against his chest to keep me from falling.
“If you think I'm just going to stand here and watch you run off
with another man when you know exactly who you belong to, you're
fucking crazy,” he growls into my mouth angrily before he gives me
another bruising kiss. “I'm your daddy. No one else.”
“But—" I shake my head, but he cuts off my protests with
another kiss that makes me go limp in his arms again.
“You feel the way you melt against me every time I touch you?” I
look down, but he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“What we have is special, Lucy, and I'll be damned if I let it slip
through my fingers just because our parents are married. You’re
mine, and I'm not letting you go.
“You can run all you want, but I'll chase you every fucking day.
Go on dates with other men, and I promise you they'll end up worse
than this one. I won't have it. I'm not going to stand by and let
another man touch what’s mine.”
My lips tremble as I stare at Luke's impassioned eyes. God help
me, but my heart is fluttering wildly in my chest at his words. Heat
pools in the center of my belly.
As if he can sense it and wants to further confuse me, Luke grabs
the back of my neck and kisses me hard again.
“Lucy? Luke?” Two voices break through to us, and Luke pulls
back from me, breathing heavily. His eyes flick over to the intruders,
and my stomach plunges to my feet when I look over and see my
mom and his dad standing there with shocked expressions on their
faces.
 “What is this?” My mom shakes her head, and I try to pull away
from Luke, but he won’t let me.
He tightens his arms around my waist and hauls me to his side
as he stands tall and faces our parents.
“I love your daughter, Mrs.,” Luke shakes his head and trails off
when he realizes my mom isn’t Mrs. Shay anymore and it would
sound odd for him to call her Mrs. Callahan since that’s his surname
too.
My cheeks flame—both at the awkwardness of the situation and
the fact that Luke said he loved me.
He loves me!
I can’t help the warm glow that fills my chest at those words.
“I intend to marry her.”
Both my mom and I gasp at the same time. Luke’s father has
been silent for the entire exchange.
When he finally speaks, his voice is stern and directed at me. “Do
you love my son?”
I swallow and glance at first my mom and then Luke. Luke’s
looking down at me with stubborn adoration and wariness. My heart
twists within me when I realize that what I’m seeing on his face is
vulnerability. He’s afraid I don’t love him back.
I take in a deep breath before I look back at Mr. Callahan and
nod. “Yes,” I answer truthfully. “I do.”
I don’t even get to see Mom and Mr. Callahan’s reaction because
Luke suddenly lifts me in his arms and crushes his lips to mine
again, completely oblivious to our parents watching us.
I can’t help it and soon melt under his ardor. When he finally
pulls back from me and strokes my hair back from my face, I smile
at the possessive happiness I see shining in his eyes.
Luke is right. It’s not our fault our parents are married, and we
aren’t related by blood, so fuck what the world may think. We love
each other, and that’s all that matters.
He takes my hand, and we both turn to face our parents
together.
Tears are shining in my mom’s eyes, and she claps her hands
under her chin as she smiles. Mr. Callahan is grinning ear to ear as
well as he claps his son on the back. “Congratulations, you two,” Mr.
Callahan says.
“So, you’re not mad?” I ask my mom anxiously, desperately
needing confirmation that she’s okay with all this.
She shakes her head and lets out a little laugh. “Mad? Honey,
why would I be mad? It’s not like Luke is your real brother. All I want
is for my girls—and boys,” she adds with a fond glance at Luke as if
she’s formally adopted all of her new husband’s children, “to be
happy. And if you two are happy together, then that’s even better.”
My heart swells as I glance over at Luke. My head is still spinning
in disbelief at how well they’re taking everything.
“How about a celebratory dinner?” Mr. Callahan proposes.
“Sure,” Luke answers for us as he wraps an arm around my
shoulder and looks down at me for confirmation, “but I think Lucy is
more in the mood for Chinese, right, honey?”
I fight back a grin as I realize what he’s doing. He’s saving us
from the embarrassment of having to walk back into the restaurant
he just carried me out of.
“Right,” I agree.
“Chinese sounds great!” Mom chimes in happily, and I could kiss
her for her exuberance.
I kiss Luke instead, the man who proved he wasn’t going to let
anything stand in our way.
 epilogue

Four Years Later

Luke

I DRINK in my wife's beautiful form in her little floral print dress.

I love the cute little dresses she wears to teach school. They’re
conservative enough for school and come down to just above her
knees but give her husband easy access to everything that belongs
to him when she gets home from work.
As much as I've been dying to put a baby up inside her, I
begrudgingly agreed to wait until she finished getting her teaching
degree, but now that she's got it, all bets are off.
She's officially been teaching in her own classroom for a month
now, and every day when she gets home, her daddy is here waiting
for her with a hard cock, ready to breed her.
“Good afternoon, honey,” she greets me sweetly, looking like the
perfect little angel she is.
I’m sitting at my desk where I've been sketching out a new
design. It's a surprise for her birthday.
 I roll my chair away from my desk and pat my knee, motioning
her to come over and sit on my lap.
She obeys easily, straddling me like a good little girl. I fist her
dress in my hands and pull it up over her head, leaving her in
nothing but her little lacy bra and panties.
“Fuck,” I growl out. “You’re the hottest little school teacher at
that school, you know that? Good thing you don’t teach high school
or you’d have all the boys daydreaming about you.”
She smiles at me coyly. “I've got the hottest husband,” she purrs.
My cock rises at the way her breath fans over my ear, and I pull her
chest close to me so I can look behind her.
I lift the band of her panties to find the tattoo she has on the top
of her right ass cheek. It's just a little heart. She told me the story
about how she got it with a fake ID when she was seventeen. It was
her small act of rebellion that nobody knows about but me.
I didn't like the thought of any other tattoo artists seeing even
the top part of her ass and was only mildly placated whenever she
informed me it was a woman who did it for her.
“I’ve got something for you,” I whisper against her skin before I
drop a kiss on her shoulder.
She pulls back from me and smiles. “Yeah? What is it?”
I pull the drawing I've been perfecting for a week over to the
edge of the desk and rotate us in the chair where she can see it.
Her eyes soften when she sees it. It’s an intricate heart design,
not too big yet not too small. It'll compliment her small heart nicely.
“I thought we would place it right by your current tat.”
“Who’s going to do it?” I see the teasing glint in her eyes.
I smirk at her. She already knows the answer to that. “I am.”
She tilts my head up and kisses my lips softly. “I love it.”
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you too,” she tells me as she wraps her arms around my
neck.
I grab her ass cheeks in both hands as I drag her back and forth
against my aching staff. “It's been too long since this morning, baby.
Daddy needs his fix.”
 Lucy moans the way she always does when I call myself her
daddy. Maybe it’s fucked up the way we like to play, but it’s what we
crave, and I’ll always give Lucy what she wants.
I pull the cups of her bra down and suckle on her little breasts as
I slip her panties from her body. She settles back down on me just
as I pull my hard cock from my pants and aim it up at her.
I'm so hard there's already a stream of moisture leaking down
the side of my swollen cock.
Lucy throws her head back as she slides down onto me. I pump
into her a couple of times to seat myself fully inside her.
It doesn’t matter how many times I bust her pussy wide open,
she’s always as tight as a virgin, and I imagine she always will be—
even after she has my children.
Some days she can take me better than others, but that doesn't
mean that we don't always try.
“You ready for Daddy to breed his sweet girl?” I ask her.
She begins to bounce around on my lap by way of answer.
“Fuck,” I hiss in a breath as her liquid cunt quickly brings me
close to the edge. “I need you to come with me baby girl,” I tell her
as I lick my thumb and then use it to massage her clit in rhythmic
circles just the way she likes.
Just as I feel my seed rising up within me, she falls apart on me,
fluttering around my cock like a flower in bloom. “Oh, fuck, baby,
you want Daddy’s nut?” I ask her as I feel my release shooting up
my stalk.
I hold it back as long as I can until she moans out, “Yes!”
“Then, take it, dirty girl,” I growl out as I release my load and
give it to her in hot spurts. I come even harder when I imagine my
sticky sperm finding its way to her egg and impregnating her.
“Fuck, I can't wait to see your belly rounded with my child,” I tell
her as I splay a hand on her stomach.
She pulls back from me and gives me one of her radiant smiles.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I'm pregnant.”
I go completely still as I stare up at her. Her eyes are shining,
and a wide smile finally breaks across my face as my stomach
flutters with hope. “What? Really? When did you find out?”
 “Just this morning,” she smiles at me beautifully. “I took a
pregnancy test at school.”
I hug her close to me and kiss the crown of her head before I
frown and ask her, “Why did you take it at school?”
She laughs and pushes at my shoulder playfully. “Because I knew
you'd freak the fuck out if you saw me taking one here.” Her eyes
soften. “I wanted to be sure before I got your hopes up.”
My frown disappears. She’s right. She knows me so well. She
knows how much I want children with her and how long I've waited.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?” I ask her as I grab the
nape of her neck and bring her lips down to mine for a kiss.
“Only every day,” she smiles before she kisses me back.
My life, my love, my stepsister.

Keep reading for a sneak peak into the next Sinful Stepbrothers
book!

Chapter 1

Charlie

I take a sip of the champagne and frown when it doesn't quite

roll on my tongue the way I expect it to. This vintage certainly isn't
of the quality I'm accustomed to, but I'm no snob. This is my dad's
big day, and I'm not going to bitch about the champagne—no matter
how subpar it is.
I glance around the reception from my corner of the room. This
is how you get a read on people. You stand back and observe and
only make your move when you understand all the players on the
field. It's what makes me a good businessman. That’s why I'm the
CEO of the biggest financial firm in the city.
 I glance over at my brother, Luke. He's got about a foot on me in
height, and I can tell from over here that he's uncomfortable in his
fancy get-up. All the tattoos that decorate his arms and chest are
completely covered, but some peek out from underneath his dress
shirt that certainly can’t hide the ones on his knuckles. Tattoos were
never my thing, but I have to admit that they seem to lend my
moody brother that dangerous air that women seem to love so
much.
He pulls at the neck of his shirt and scowls furiously. I shake my
head. No doubt he'd be more comfortable in a pair of faded jeans
and black T-shirt, but fuck, can’t he pull it together for one day?
I glance over at my other brother, Noah. He's the youngest of us
three brothers, and while he's the shortest, he's definitely still tall,
and he's the biggest and burliest, which is probably why he does
well in his chosen career field providing security.
I'm the brains. Noah is the brawn, and Luke is just…well, a
temperamental asshole.
I take another sip of the champagne before I grimace and set it
to the side. Just because I'm here to support my dad doesn't mean I
have to stomach the subpar shit. I stuff my hands casually in my
pockets, my eyes continuing to scan the room until a flash of gold
glinting on red catches my gaze.
Time stops. My breath catches in my throat as my eyes light on
the beauty before me. Her shoulder-length hair is a mass of auburn
curls. The coils look soft and shiny, and I have the crazy desire to
pull on one just to see if it bounces back like a spring.
She looks like a fierce little lioness. While she's not as short as
the petite brunette standing next to her, she's still tiny compared to
me. She can't be more than five-foot-five, and I'm a good six-two.
She has on a light pink dress that’s sinfully modest. The square
neckline shows the barest amount of cleavage, and two thin straps
hold up the gown that goes all the way down to her feet. I'm dying
to get a look at what I already know are going to be shapely legs,
but a thrill goes through me when she turns around to speak to
someone and I get a look at the back of her dress.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hunt the Hog of
Joe
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Hunt the Hog of Joe

Author: Robert E. Gilbert

Illustrator: Ed Emshwiller

Release date: June 30, 2022 [eBook #68433]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: Royal Publications, Inc, 1956

Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUNT THE

HOG OF JOE ***
HUNT the HOG of JOE
By ROBERT ERNEST GILBERT

Illustrated by EMSH

The hog was deadly dangerous and virtually

invulnerable—but Planet Maggie's weird
laws were what made the hunt really tough!

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from

Infinity, February 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
 I: THREEDAY NIGHT
Exceptional noses with aquiline bridges and upswept tips marked the
six adult couples who drifted past me through the valve into the
astraplane, Ap-GG-12C. They were large, tanned, blue-eyed, brown-
haired people; and they wore white coveralls stamped, in strange
letters, "Recessive—Alien Status." The varied children with them
were designated simply, "Alien."
Another big man, almost identical with the male emigrants, but
dressed in a spotted fur G-suit, floated out of the old shuttle, Joe
Nordo III. The astraplane's quadpilot stopped watching dials, turned
to the newcomer, and said, "Passenger for you, Ypsilanti. Hunter Ube
Kinlock, meet Dominant Olaf Ypsilanti."
"Low, Ypsilanti," I said, fighting my chronic spacesickness.
The shuttle pilot glared at me. My left hand was a graft, my cheek
was freshly scarred, and my scant red hair needed treatments; but I
had not supposed I was that repulsive.
Ypsilanti said, "Papers."
"No time for that," the quadpilot interrupted. "Unclinch in ninety-three
seconds. He's from GG about the Hog. Long, Kinlock. I'll see you in
264 hours." He urged us through the valves.
On the first deck of the shuttle, I swallowed another SS pill. I was
unaccustomed to windows in spacecraft. Eleven hundred kilometers
below lay Planet Maggie, of Joe's Sun, with the surface partly in
darkness. The awesome, greenish convolutions of the adjacent dark
nebula filled much of the sky as if churning forward to engulf both
planet and spaceships.
Ypsilanti swung to the controls. I secured my baggage in the racks
and clutched a couch. With horror, I saw that the shuttle's brain had
been removed.
Ypsilanti snarled, "Ordinance 419: Aliens ride the lowest deck."
I went through a manhole to the lowest deck, the second one, and
lashed myself down. "How did that many emigrants crowd in here?" I
quavered.
Ypsilanti said, "Ordinance 481: Passengers shall not talk to pilots."
At a signal from the Ap-GG-12C, Ypsilanti unclinched and backed the
Joe Nordo III, reducing orbital velocity until the astraplane was a
bright speck. He unstrapped, floated down to my couch, and said,
"Papers." I took the GG Travel Book from my chest pocket. The pilot
flipped the pages and sneered, "A hunter! Hunt what?"
"Man-eaters. The Jury asked Galactic Government to destroy the
Hog. GG sent me. Can't this wait until you ground this thing?"
Ypsilanti exclaimed, "No alien may hunt on Maggie! Shall wait here."
"The 12C won't return for 264 hours!" I yelled. "GG sent me after the
Hog."
Ypsilanti laughed. "No aircraft, bombs, men. Slimy thing, one alien
cannot kill the Hog. You smell like your owner, Galactic Government.
You are not fit to walk on Maggie."
He resumed the controls.

II: FOURDAY MORNING

Although I had previously been spacesick, airsick, carsick, seasick,
and sledsick, the descent to Planet Maggie was the first time I
believed that Doreen, Laurinda, and Celestine would never again see
me alive. How Ypsilanti, occasionally glancing at the few antiquated
instruments, found Joetropolis, even in the blundering hours he took,
remained mysterious. At last, I saw a clutter of buildings surrounded
by a wall. The buildings expanded with dizzy speed, until the shuttle
hovered less than one hundred meters above the ground. I gulped
weakly at three figures pushing a long metal tube with wheels into a
shed constructed in an angle of the wall.
The shuttle bounced to a tail-first stop. Ypsilanti dropped a door,
unreeled a chain ladder, and climbed out.
"Didn't you forget me?" I gasped. I scrambled to the first deck and
almost pitched from the ship. Coarse grass with red undertones
covered the field except for patches blackened by exhausts. At one
border was a crude shed and a wrecked jetcopter. Cultivated areas,
interspersed with patches of brush, separated the spaceport and the
walls of Joetropolis. Ypsilanti ran wildly down a rutted lane toward the
town.
I located a hoist and lowered my four cases. I eased down the chain
ladder to the hot, damp soil of Planet Maggie. Joe's Sun, red and
bloated, cleared a clump of trees and half blinded me. Small purple
birds jeered from the huge leaves of squat weeds along the edge of
the field. Four striped, short-tailed, buck-toothed rodents scurried
beneath a stump. Another sat on a discarded can and squeaked
threateningly.
Even in the .92 Maggiese gravity, my luggage weighed about sixty
kilograms. I yanked the braided leather line from the hoist and was
attempting to lash the two smaller cases into a pack, when a distant
explosion agitated the still air. Two rodents ran out of the grass and
vanished down a hole. As the exploding sounds climbed in pitch, I
realized they were mighty grunts.
I unpacked, assembled, and activated the hisser. A soft voice said,
"No!"
A woman peeped from behind the shuttle's ruddevator. She bore a
faint resemblance to Ypsilanti, but her nose was less prominent. She,
too, had brown hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. She said,
"Ordinance 53: Aliens shall approach the city unarmed."
"Low," I said. "I'm Ube Kinlock, the hunter GG sent about the Hog.
Are you a port officer?"
"Am a hunter also, slightly. Ordinance 33 forbids introductions of alien
males to Maggiese females, but am Betty Toal."
She stepped from behind the ruddevator. I inhaled sharply. I had
encountered colonies not accepting Galactic standards of decency,
but was still shocked by extreme exposure. Toal wore a loose, white
sack with head and arm holes. Her elbows, knees, and ankles were
nude.
Toal stood about one meter from me and said, "Ordinance 31 forbids
alien males to be within ten feet of a female. Ypsilanti should have
helped you, but is afraid of the Hog. Is little danger now. The Hog
avoids the sun."
"That grunting was the Hog?" I deciphered the inscription on the
brooch at her throat as, "Minimum."
Toal said, "Yes. The Hog goes to the swamp. Will help with your
luggage."
"It's too heavy for you."
"Am thin but strong by Maggiese standards," Toal said.
I managed to carry three cases and the hisser. Toal retrieved a mesh
bag, filled with fruit or vegetables, and picked up the fourth case. She
asked, as we walked toward the town, "Is true, in the Explored
Galaxy, people do not care how children look?"
"What? Children? Yes, generally. Some believe little boys' ears
shouldn't stick out too far, and some consider little girls with golden
curls and dimples the most charming, but there isn't much prejudice."
"Is also true," Toal said, "no one must marry someone he dislikes?"
"Sometimes an exchange of x-tops and coupons is involved, but it's
usually a free choice."
Toal asked no more questions, but followed along pointing out the
ripening crunchies and the blooming goodies. She warned me of
toothie tunnels across the path. The striped rodents, she explained,
menaced stored food, crops, livestock, and buildings. They were
checked, to some extent, by traps, poison, and disease cultures.
A wooden bridge, crushed and splintered in the middle, spanned a
ditch. The bridge was actually made of sawed boards and beams, not
liquid wood castings. The prints of cloven hoofs and dewclaws
spotted the soft ground.
"The Hog!" Toal said. "Passed between me and the wall!"
I dropped the cases and clutched the hisser with both hands.
Toal said, "If carry that for the Hog, he has been shot with those. Did
not hurt much. Of course, were older models."
Wiping at the perspiration splashing down my face, I knelt and
examined the hoofprints, which were roughly thirty-five centimeters
long and spaced, from front hoofs to back, almost five meters apart.
"How big is the Hog?" I asked.
"Some sows were nine feet high, fifteen feet long."
We slowly crossed the broken bridge. I said, "What's this about
dimensions in feet?"
Toal spoke as if quoting a lesson. "In an old book, Joe Nordo found
forgotten English measurements. These matched the Maggiese body.
Joe Nordo's feet were one foot long. Center of chest to finger tips,
with arm stretched, one yard. First joint of little finger, one inch. Was
two yards tall."
Toal suddenly smiled as if unaccustomed to smiling. "Silly," she said.
"Learn such things in school." She threw out a hand in a sweeping
gesture. "Many things here silly. Is true, in the Explored Galaxy,
people do not care if you are blue, black, white? How long your nose
is?"
"Yes, officially at least, there's no discrimination between humans and
intelligent beings because of physical appearance."
Toal sighed. "Must be wonderful. Wish could leave Maggie."
"Why not?"
"Ordinance 3."
The wall around Joetropolis was made of genuine tree trunks treated
with preservative and sharpened at the top. Heavy, pointed,
irregularly spaced stakes, thrust at angles into the ground, fringed the
wall. The effect of these crude fortifications was barbaric, even
primitive. Bare electrical wires, strung on insulators fastened to the
stakes, only accentuated the prehistoric picture.
"Follow the marked path," Toal said.
The zigzagging path was not more than a meter wide. I avoided
touching the wires and reached open ground. A small gate in the wall
swung inward, and a man wearing a white sack stalked out. He
looked like an older brother of Ypsilanti. The two men behind him
looked like younger brothers. Their knees and elbows were
indecently exposed.
"Are arrested!" they chorused. One carried a hisser so ancient that it
could have been the original model. The others had hand weapons.
"I apologize if I've broken your laws," I said, "but I don't know—"
"Ignorance of law is no excuse!" exclaimed the older man, who had
"Dominant" on his brooch. He ordered, "Stop Betty Toal!" One of the
guards chased the fleeing Toal along the wall.
"I'm Ube Kinlock," I said. "Galactic Government sent me in answer to
—"
"Silence, criminal alien! Ordinance 55: Criminal aliens shall never
speak, unless so ordered."

III: FOURDAY NIGHT

I sat up in the sweltering darkness of the cell. Mortar dropped on the
bed from between the logs of the primitive wall. I grabbed a boot to
defend myself against rodents but a voice whispered, "Kinlock. Is
Betty Toal."
"High, Toal," I said. "What did they do to you?"
"Have not caught me. Brought food and water. Ordinance 102 forbids
a meal for criminal aliens. Find the tube? Did they give you water?"
"A few sips." I gulped slightly metallic water from the tube extending
through the hole she had made in the daubing. Toal shoved
something through the crack. So far as I could determine in the
darkness, it was meat between slices of bread.
I munched the concoction and mumbled, "Thanks, Toal. You'd best
run before the guards find you. If I ever get out, and you need
anything, let me know."
Toal said, too loudly for secrecy, "Am happy to help. Do not worry
about prison. Several Maximums and Dominants opposed calling an
outside hunter. May be why they arrested you."
"Stand still, Betty Toal!" a rough voice cried in the dark.
A chorus added, "Are arrested!"
A screech preceded the sounds of rapid breathing, slaps, tearing
cloth, and stamping feet. "Stop it!" I yelled, trying to see through the
crack. "She only brought some water!"
"Check the criminal alien!"
Soon the wooden hall floor creaked and rattled. The door rolled up.
Lights blinded me. Three striped toothies streaked for their holes.
"Search him and the room," ordered a Dominant, apparently the man
who originally arrested me.
"You don't get much sleep, do you?" I asked.
"Silence!" he said. "Ordinance 55: Criminal—"
I took up the refrain. "—aliens shall never speak, unless so ordered."
The Dominant created fuming noises. The guards searched futilely. In
frustration, the Dominant said, "Where is the weapon she gave?
Speak."
I said, "I have no weapons, but I'd like to tell you how Galactic
Government will react when—"
They walked out and rolled down the door. I flopped on the bed and
perspired and brooded.
On Henderson's Globe of Spica, I had planned to terminate my
present career with this hunt. I had never especially enjoyed the
hazards of hunting, which had cost me a hand, much blood, and large
areas of skin. Doreen, Laurinda, Celestine, and I had decided to
emigrate to Mother Earth. Game wardens, foresters, and gardeners
were needed for the century-old project of reclaiming that world.
There I would find work more pleasant than pursuing things with
tentacles, fangs, and maws. Of course, if I failed to earn a large fee
from this hunt, we would be unable to go.
My principal difficulty was that Maggie was private. GG had no
authority except to send inspection parties. A private planet could not
attempt inter-planetary or interstellar flight without GG supervision,
nor could it own weapons other than those required for defense
against native life. Most private planets had been settled two
centuries before, when there were individuals wealthy enough to
undertake stellar colonization. Few who tried succeeded. The fifteen
or twenty private planets in the Explored Galaxy were all eccentric.
Some even advocated capital punishment, an archaic system of
killing mental defectives.
The one factor on my side was that no GG citizen could be punished
by a private planet—or so Galactic law specified.

IV: FIVEDAY MORNING

Toothies raced for their holes when the Dominant and three guards
entered the cell. "Did you get any sleep?" I asked.
The Dominant announced, "Shall see the Jury."
They marched me out into the hot, slanting rays of Joe's Sun. Large,
brown-haired, big-nosed pedestrians gawked at me with stolid
curiosity. The women carefully kept at a distance of ten foot lengths.
We turned a corner and passed a column of varied men and women
who did not fall within Maggiese standards. They carried or pushed
primitive agricultural tools, such as chain saws, weed burners, and
self-propelled soil tillers and sickle bars. Their brooches were
inscribed, "Farmer."
We climbed a broad flight of plank steps into a huge log building with
wooden pillars and carved friezes. The Dominant said, "Guard him,"
and passed through one of the many doors in the vestibule.
I examined two flat photographs on the wall. I decided that the
Maggiese letters labeled the man as Joe Nordo, and that he had said,
"To be alike is to be free." The woman was Maggie Ione Curwen
Nordo. Evidently, she had never said anything worth quoting.
Although Maggie was rather pretty, she had features similar to Joe's.
Joe was a caricature of most of the natives. His face appeared almost
in profile, so that the combination concave and convex bridge of his
nose jutted prominently.
The Dominant came through another doorway and motioned. The
guards ushered me into a room where Betty Toal sat between two
more guards. Dirt smeared her face and her torn white sack.
"Low, Toal," I said. "What—"
The Dominant said, "Planetary Ordinance 104: Criminal aliens shall
not speak to fallen Maggiese females."
"Can't you do anything but gibber Ordinances?" I yelled. "Toal only
gave me some water. If you—"
Leather bands snapped around my wrists. The guards tied me to
rings in the wall. The Dominant strapped a harness under my jaw and
across the top of my head. I tried to talk, but all that came past my
clenched teeth was, "Effhyu hink hyu kun—" and I stopped.
Someone called, "Criminal Minimum Betty Toal!"
Toal left the room between her guards. She returned, in not more
than fifteen minutes, alone. She wore loose white coveralls stamped,
"Recessive—Alien Status." As she passed me, her teeth flashed in a
glad and grateful smile.
 V: FIVEDAY AFTERNOON
About two hours past noon of Planet Maggie's twenty-seven hour
day, a man called, "Criminal Alien Ube Kinlock!"
Surrounded by guards, I stiffly walked into an auditorium with a high,
peaked ceiling supported by heavy wooden beams. A few spectators
sat in rows of wooden benches. Tall windows stood open, and
mechanisms with rotating blades fanned the air, but the room was
stifling. Toothies chased each other across the beams.
At the end of the room, a man sat in a high box. As we approached, I
saw that he was a replica of the Joe Nordo portrait in the vestibule.
Carved in the molding around the top of the box was the legend, "His
Perfectness, Spencer Gaius Quesnay, the Joe Nordo Ideal."
The guards halted and made peculiar gestures, swiftly touching their
foreheads with extended hands. One announced, "Your Perfectness,
we bring Criminal Alien Ube Kinlock."
Behind a long desk below Spencer Gaius Quesnay's box sat five men
—large, tanned, and well provided with noses. A placard identified
the man in the center, who had gray in his hair, as, "Foreman
Maximum Rory J. N. Eijkman." He said, "Criminal Alien Kinlock broke
many Ordinances." He picked up a paper and read from it. "Broke
320 by refusing to show papers to the shuttle pilot, Ypsilanti. Broke
419 when attempted to ride the upper deck. Broke 481 by conversing
with the pilot."
The list of my defections grew. My movements had been observed
from the wall by something called scopeplate. Any slight suspicion
that I had flaunted an Ordinance was assumed to be proven fact.
Even my use of the cargo hoist was criminal, and my relationship with
Betty Toal was filled with offenses. I grunted indignantly in the head
harness, but no one listened. Perspiration drained from my body.
After weary minutes, Eijkman read the last of my foul deeds, which
was speaking to Toal in the outer room. Eijkman said, "Because of
many crimes, suggest he be charged with breaking 792, which covers
disrespect to people and customs of Planet Maggie."
An unusual noise came from the spectators. I twisted my head and
saw that they were slapping the palms of their hands together.
Eijkman glanced at the other men behind the desk. He frowned at me
and said, "Were you Maggiese, should recommend that you be
reduced to Farmer. Are reportedly an agent of the creeping monster,
Galactic Government. Were sent to kill the Hog. One alien with
nothing but small weapons cannot kill the Hog. Am always opposed
to asking Government aid. So—"
A man named Maximum Qasim Pierre Macready, according to his
sign, exclaimed, "Foreman, object! If the Hog is not killed, may as
well find another continent or island. If this alien—"
"The case concerns the alien, not the Hog," Eijkman said.
"Think it silly for an entire population to be scared by the Hog!" cried
J. N. Zengo Bartok, a man leaner than the others. "The alien is a well
known hunter. Suppose—"
Eijkman said, "Order!" He glared at me. "Sentencing the alien would
require appeal to foul Galactic Government. Recommend
deportation."
I had anticipated being dragged away to a gas chamber, or an electric
chair, or some other savage torture device; but I still did not like
Eijkman's decree.
Eijkman said, "Ordinance 30: Alien tourists shall not stay on Maggie
longer than one week. That is, nine days or 243 hours. Must be
above air by 26:47 Threeday night."
Bartok objected, "Have not passed the decision!"
Eijkman ignored him. "Since no plane will be in space then, time must
be extended."
"Uh—ah, yes, must," said His Perfectness, Spencer Gaius Quesnay,
the Joe Nordo Ideal, as he leaned from his box. "Er, should not force
the—um—alien to leave without a plane."
Bowing to the box, Eijkman told me, "As His Perfectness explains,
must wait here for the Ap-GG-12C. Will return at about 20:50 next
Fourday. Shuttle blasts at 18:00."
"Foreman," Bartok again interrupted. "Should see if this alien can
destroy the Hog, however long it takes."
The other Maximums began commenting. I fumbled with the head
harness. The guards restrained me, but Quesnay gestured from his
box and mumbled above the din, "Let, uh, the alien—ah, speak.
Would like to, uh, hear him."
The guards removed the straps. I massaged my chin and croaked,
"Your Perfectness." I cleared my throat noisily. "Your Perfectness, I
agree that I should hunt the Hog."
"What, ah, is he saying?" Quesnay grumbled. "Cannot understand a,
uh, word."
I spoke more distinctly. "I'll be happy to leave as soon as the Ap-GG-
12C returns, if you'll let me hunt the Hog while I'm here. I'll guarantee
to kill him, if you cooperate, but with three conditions."
"Of course, conditions," Eijkman said hopefully.
"According to GG regulations, I must investigate the place of a
carnivorous life form in the bionomics of a planet or continent and
decide if destroying it would be harmful."
"Can doubt the Hog should be killed?" Bartok yelled. "In three years,
he and sows have killed 237 Maggiese!"
Foreman Eijkman sneered, "Can import more hogs. The continent
swarms with them. Since Criminal Alien Kinlock believes should not
kill the Hog—"
"I didn't say that!" I almost snarled. My feet throbbed from too much
standing. "I'll give an example, also about hogs.
"Many centuries ago on Mother Earth, in a place called Sumatra,
there were animals like the hellcat of Four, Alpha Gruis, except they
were smaller and had stripes. These cats sometimes ate men, but
hunters liked to kill them whether they were man-eaters or not. As the
cats decreased, the wild hogs in Sumatra increased. The hogs
started eating the crops, mostly some plant, called palms, from which
oil was taken. The hogs practically destroyed the economy of
Sumatra, because the cats, which had checked the hog population,
had been destroyed."
Bartok said. "Clever fable. All the Hog eats is us and domestic
animals. And killing him will not destroy his species."
"I'll accept that," I said. "The second condition is that I must learn if
the Hog has near-human intelligence, and if we can communicate
with him."
Eijkman laughed harshly. "Communicate? The Hog has no
intelligence."
"Very well. The last condition is that you must pay my fee, since this
private planet makes no donations to Galactic Government." I
impulsively doubled my rates and said, "My fee is one thousand x-
tops, fifty coupons, to be paid when I've killed the Hog."
Eijkman said, "Gangster!"
Macready said, "Give him platinum bars. Have too many now."
I raised my voice above the arguing. "There's a standard form in my
Travel Book. It relieves GG of any consequences and guarantees that
I be paid. It must be signed by the highest authority on the planet."
"The Jury is head here!" Eijkman said. "Order!"
His Perfectness mumbled from above, "Give, uh, the alien the form."
Eijkman looked as if he had swallowed something sour. He muttered,
"His Perfectness suggests Criminal Alien Kinlock get the statement.
Vote."
The other four Maximums nodded. Eijkman said, "Am opposed. Four
to one."
Quesnay said, "Good—uh, give the uh statement. Guards, huh, find
his baggage. Take him, er, to Dominant Rasmussen."
Eijkman growled at me, "Will leave this planet at 18:00 o'clock
Fourday!"
 VI: FIVEDAY EVENING
By the time my papers had been located and the form filled and
stamped by the Jury, and my luggage had been found and loaded on
a three-wheeled cart, Joe's Sun was setting. A guard, who talked
enough to reveal that his name was Smith, guided me through the
stifling streets. Already the dark nebula was visible, and thunder-
clouds on the horizon added to the possibility that the sky was having
convulsions.
Smith helped me pull the cart up a ramp to the planked walk of the
outer wall. Guards stood at intervals and peeped through infra-red
goggles or checked strange instruments. Some laughed after we
passed. We crossed a bridge to the second story of a log building.
Smith beat the door with his knuckles, until a girl, an adolescent
edition of Betty Toal, opened it. "Fine weather, Minimum," she said.
Smith asked, "Dominant Rasmussen here?"
"Yes—" The girl became aware of what I was and backed away to a
legal ten foot length.
The guard helped deposit my cases inside the doorway. A huge,
white-haired old man lumbered into the hall. He supported his obesity
with a wooden rod curved at one end. "Dominant Alcaeus
Rasmussen," said Smith, "Alien Hunter Ube Kinlock."
Rasmussen's Maggiese nose tilted at the end so that the nostrils
almost paralleled the plane of his puffy cheeks. His chins concealed
his neck. "Was warned would come here," he grunted. "Eat. Then we
talk of the Hog."
I said, "Thanks," and turned to Smith, but he was gone.
Rasmussen ushered me into a wood-sheathed room. A toothie thrust
his striped head from a crack, squeaked once, and withdrew. About
fifteen people sat at a table. Sighting me, one woman screamed, and
all the females, including a girl about eight, pushed back their stools.
"Sit down," Rasmussen commanded. "Will be no menace here."
Rasmussen placed me at a small table in the corner and occupied a
stool opposite me. He said, "Ordinances forbid close contact between