Falling For My Alpha Stepsister (GL)

April

Having Angel drag me out of the blue was totally unexpected.

One minute, I was about to hit the ball. The next, a hand was grabbing me and pulling me away.

And I let that hand drag me without even fighting it.

I didn’t yank my arm back, nor did I yell for Abigail or Katie to help me. I just stumbled along behind her, like I was being controlled...

It wasn’t until we got inside a hut that I finally had the chance to argue with her.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked, pulling my hand away from hers.

She sank right into the beanbag in the corner, her legs sprawling out in front of her as her heavy eyes tracked my face.

God, what was she smoking? Because whatever it was, it really hit her. She looked high as shit.

Her eyelids were half-closed, her face flushed, and a slow, completely unbothered smirk stretched across her lips.

Then her arm shot out, snagging the hem of my grey jersey and yanking me forward before I could even react. I gasped as I fell, landing flat against her athletic body while the beanbag squished under our combined weight.

"This is better than playing volleyball."

Her low, raspy voice vibrated right against my stomach, her breath warm against my neck.

I was lying on top of her, my hands resting awkwardly against her chest. Our faces were so close that I could see the dimples forming on her cheeks as she smiled at me.

Her crimson eyes were locked onto mine, glassy and hazy from the weed, but holding an intensity that made my throat go dry.

"I rather play volleyball than be like this," I said, trying to get up.

I pushed my palms against her shoulders, attempting to lift my torso off her chest.

But she was strong enough to keep me from getting off her.

I was trapped, couldn’t move...

"Angel," I grunted.

I tried to squirm, pushing against her collarbones again.

She reached up, cupped the back of my neck with her broad hand, and pulled my face down to hers. Her lips pressed hard, messily, and deeply against mine, completely silencing my protest before it could leave my mouth.

It was deep enough that I could taste the dried herbs she had been smoking.

As much as I wanted to keep kissing her, I pulled away, trying to hold on to whatever was left of my self-respect.

I rested my forehead against her shoulder, my chest heaving as I tried to get my breathing back under control.

"Angel, I’m not your fucking sexdoll that you can do whatever you want with. I’m not your pleasure hole," I muttered.

My voice came out thick and rough, carrying all the lingering hurt and anger from earlier today.

"But we made a deal. You said I could have you whenever and wherever I wanted. I want you now."

She said, her hand sliding down my back to rest flat against my waist, her thumb rubbing slow circles through the cotton of my jersey.

That was a decision I had made out of desperation because I wanted her to be friendly with the kids.

And now I was regretting it.

I couldn’t have sex with her in here while people outside watched us like we were some kind of private live show.

The front of the wooden hut was wide open to the ocean breeze. Anyone walking down the beach path, from Abigail to Becca, could easily look inside and see us tangled together on the floor.

This place already looked like a world built for adult entertainment, just without the cameras and microphones.

I took a slow, steadying breath, looking right down into her lazy crimson eyes.

"Look, Angel. I don’t want to have sex with you."

"But I want to."

She said it so simply, her tone demanding and completely unbothered by my refusal.

"No. You just want to find someone to fuck. I’m not a prostitute, but I can help you find one if that pleases you."

I narrowed my eyes at her, keeping my voice firm.

"I don’t want one. I want a private one."

She stared at me for a moment before continuing.

She shifted slightly beneath me, her gaze softening just a fraction as her fingers tangled into the strands of hair at the base of my neck.

"I used to love tasting different kinds of dishes, from different continents and cultures. But the moment I tasted one particular dish, it became my favorite. Every other dish, even the side ones, started tasting bland."

Wow.

My mouth hung open slightly as the words settled between us in the quiet hut.

I couldn’t believe I actually understood what she was saying.

The metaphor was so clear, so obvious coming from a girl who usually hid behind harsh insults and arrogant laughter.

I was the dish she was talking about.

She had tasted me, and now she couldn’t seem to enjoy anyone else the same way.

All those other girls, the ones she dragged into her bed or met at the beach clubs, no longer satisfied her because my taste had completely ruined her appetite for anyone else.

I thought this kind of thing only happened when a mate marking was involved, but Angel hadn’t marked me.

She hadn’t bitten my neck, she hadn’t claimed me with her pheromones, and yet her body had rejected everyone else on its own.

And somehow, she had decided I was her favorite.

What in the world am I even thinking?

A sudden, sharp realization hit my chest, making my pulse race even faster against her ribs.

My innocent mind had been completely corrupted by the vile woman sitting in front of me.

I was actually analyzing her words, dissecting her weird confession, and finding a strange, dangerous comfort in the fact that she was hooked on me.

Just play along, April. Play along.

I took a deep breath, letting my body relax completely against hers, resting my weight back on her chest.

"So, how many people have you tasted?"

"About 20. And they all tasted like trash. Even your vomit tasted better than them."

My eyes widened behind my glasses as I looked at her deadpan face.

"That’s disgusting."

She only laughed. S deep, genuine laugh rumbled through her chest, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she pulled me a little tighter against her body.

"I see. Do you mind tasting me forever?"

I tilted my chin up, watching her reaction carefully.

"If you’re April’s pussy, I don’t mind."

"Hmmm. Fascinating."

I smiled.

A real, genuine smile spread across my face, breaking through all the fear and anger I had been holding onto all day.

"I’m April. And if you want me to stay your favorite, you have to do what I want first."

"Nah. I said no shenanigans. You’re not playing fair, girl."

She groaned softly, rolling her eyes while her hands stayed locked firmly around my waist.

"Everything is fair in love and war."

I leaned closer.

I brought my face down until my lips were barely an inch from her ear, my voice dropping into a low, steady whisper.

"And this is a war between me and your stone heart. I’m going to make that heart of yours melt and beat for me."

I placed my ear against her chest, listening to the steady rhythm underneath.

The heavy, thumping beat echoed right through her ribs, fast and strong under my cheek.

Then I smiled.

"Angel Morningstar, I’m making it my mission to make you confess that you love me. No games."

For once, neither of us argued.

We found ourselves cuddling on the beanbag.

And somehow, it felt better than anything else we could have done.

It was better than the chaotic sex, better than the shouting matches, and better than all the arrogant mind games.

We actually fell asleep together, wrapped in each other’s warmth until darkness settled over the district.

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