Jennie

It's just a photo. It doesn't matter. These people are nothing and soon you'll have left this nightmare forever.

I repeat this mantra over and over as I walk home. I'm a Kim, and everyone in this city knows that crossing a Kim is dangerous for your longevity, except high school doesn't follow normal rules. High school is its own ecosystem with different in-crowds, out-crowds, and pecking orders. Lately, I reek of vulnerability. I'm the limping gazelle on the savanna, and the predators are closing in around me.

It's just a photo, Jennie.

But it's not just a photo. It's evidence of me doing something that gets my stomach churning every time. I need two shots of vodka just to walk through that door.

I clench my backpack strap, and then whimper as my bruised and reddened knuckles blaze with pain. I think I hurt myself more throwing that punch than the person who received it.

A noisy, souped-up car approaches behind me, but my stomach is revolving a hundred times a minute. I don't recognize the sound until it's far too late to duck down a side street or into a store.

A black Camaro pulls up next to me, the engine throbbing, and dismay tumbles through me.

The driver rolls the windows down and thumping bass spills out. A mocking voice asks, "Alone again? Where are your friends, high-school girl?"

I can't deal with my mom's wife right now on top of everything else. I keep walking and staring straight ahead.

The engine cuts, a car door slams, and Lisa steps onto the sidewalk in front of me. Sunlight dapples her broad shoulders, and the wind ruffles her dark hair. Behind her sunglasses, her brows are drawn tightly together.

There's genuine concern on her face. "What's happened?"

"Who says anything's happened?"

"Your face, Mandu. You look like someone ran over your kitten."

I give her the finger and step around her. "Don't call me Mandu. I'm fine."

Lisa grabs my wrist, and my middle finger is right in her face. "I don't believe you. Get in the car."

I try to twist out of her hold, but her hand is like steel. "Piss off, Lisa!"

Lisa's eyes flash. "Get in the car or I'll put you over my knee and spank you right here in the street."

I wince as a couple walking their dog nearby turns to look at us. "Don't be so crude."

"I can be cruder if you don't do as I say," she says in a threatening voice. "How about I start describing the way you ground your wet pussy all over my fingers? Loudly."

My eyes narrow. She wouldn't dare.

Lisa takes a deep breath and opens her mouth.

"Okay, I'm going. Keep your voice down." I yank open the passenger door and get into the front seat. I've been ignoring her since she humiliated me at dinner four nights ago. She hates it in our house, but why does she have to take her bad temper out on me?

Stupid question. I know why.

It's fun for her, and she thinks I'm pathetic.

If only she knew the real reason I keep my mouth shut. That I'm biding my time and saving my pennies, and the second I graduate high school, I'll be gone like a shot. Mom and my uncles will never have to look at the Kim family shame ever again.

The interior of Lisa's car is gleaming and perfect and smells like leather and her. When she gets in and starts the engine, I glance at her large, tattooed hands on the steering wheel. There's something captivating about the way she manhandles the stick shift into place as she guns the engine and turns the wheel. It's a totally ordinary thing that she must have done a thousand times before, and yet the churning in my belly suddenly settles and is replaced by a fluttering sensation.

Lisa isn't special. Everyone just look attractive when they're driving, and anyone driving this car would look hot. Connor, my ex-boyfriend, could be counted in the top three hottest guys in school, and to prove the point to myself, I picture him in Lisa's place.

I scrunch my nose as I imagine it. Or not.

Lisa glances at me as she steps on the gas, and we roar down the street. "What's that face for, Mandu? You don't like my car?"

I love her stupid car. "You do realize Mandu was a food?"

We drive in tense, uncomfortable silence. I can feel the anger radiating off Lisa's body in waves.

"I'm getting fucking sick of you," she says through clenched teeth. "If someone's hurt you, then go do something about it."

I push my fingers so hard into my palms that my nails feel like they're going to cut right through flesh. That's easy for her to say when she's six-foot-four, ripped. An intimidating human. Even if I had a black belt in karate. No one takes your threats seriously when you resemble a terrified creature.

I shake my head and stare out the window. "You have no idea what it's like to be me."

"You're right. I have no idea what it's like to be a scared piece of shit."

Fuming, I reach into my school bag and thrust a letter at her. She takes it with a frown and opens the envelope against the steering wheel one-handed. Still driving, she glances between the road and the letter.

"To Jennie Kim's parent or guardian, blah blah blah . . . suspended for fighting?" A delighted grin breaks over Lisa's face. "That's more like it. Who did you flatten?"

I snatch the letter back. Of course she would think it's funny. "None of your business."

"Come on. Who pissed you off? Tell me, and I'll finish the job off for you if you didn't give them a black eye yet."

I picture her sinking her fist into Kaleb's face, and the idea is enthralling. But then I'd owe my mom's wife. "If I have a problem, I'll tell Mom, not you."

Lisa bursts out laughing. "Why, because you think she'll care?"

Her words feel like a slap across my face. Who told her about the man who fathered me? Did they ridicule me and Mom? Did Lisa think it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard and laugh like she's laughing now?

"You've been in my family for five minutes, and you think you know us? You don't know shit, asshole."

Lisa turns to me with a smirk and rumbles lazily, "Damn, I knew you had a dirty mouth. What else that mouth do?"

She's relaxed in her seat as she drives, knees spread and wearing her usual black jeans. They hug her hips and muscular thighs, and before I can help myself, I've glanced at her zipper.

Not her zipper. Her dick. I felt her thrusting against my ass the other night when she was hard, and she was huge. She's not hard now, but there's a sizable package in her jeans. I can vividly imagine Lisa cupping the nape of my neck as I lean over her lap and take her in my mouth. A little hiss of pleasure and then her low, breathy, Good girl as she raises her hips to fuck my mouth.

I look away quickly and glare out the passenger window, but not before I catch her shit-eating grin. She knows exactly where my mind went.

She's married to Mom, I remind myself. She screws Mom. Remember how you heard them that time? Not moaning and panting, but the unmistakable rhythmic noise of a headboard hitting a wall. Otherwise, dead silence.

Revulsion skitters through my body at the memory. Finally, a normal reaction to my mom's wife.

When Lisa pulls into the driveway at home, I get out of the car, expecting her to speed away again, but she follows me inside. In the hall, she overtakes me, looking into every room until she finds Mom in the kitchen. She's sitting at the counter answering emails on her phone.

"Your daughter has something to tell you," Lisa announces, and then she stands back and folds her arms.

Mom looks past me as if she expects to see Jessica or Krystal standing in the doorway.

She means me. I'm your daughter, too.

Mom turns back to her phone and her acrylic nail taps the screen. "What do you have to tell me, Jennie? You're not failing school, are you?"

The pain in my chest doubles. She assumes that if I've got something to say, it must be because I did something wrong.

Tap tap tap.

"Nothing. Never mind."

Lisa glares daggers at me as I turn on my heel and sweep past her. "Pathetic."

I keep walking while images of revenge flash through my mind. Heaping all her fashionably ripped jeans into a pile and torching them in the back garden. Scraping a key along every panel of her beloved car. I want to scream at her. I want to rake my nails down her chest. But I also know that it won't make me feel any better when the person I truly wish to scream at is Mom. I want to crack that frosty, aloof demeanor of hers and make her see me. Even if I wanted to hurt her, I wouldn't know how. If I acted out, she'd flick me a haughty glance and return to whatever she's doing, because I'm less worthy of her attention than a mosquito buzzing around her head.

I lock myself in the bathroom and splash handful after handful of cold water over my face. I'm so sick of this place. The school year ends in four months, and I haven't saved up enough money yet. Maybe just one more month will do it, and I could sell the handbag Mom gave me for my birthday. A crummy little apartment would be better than living under this roof.

I turn the tap off by slamming it with the heel of my hand and gaze at my dripping face.

Or I could stop being a scared little bitch and actually face Mom like a grown up. Stand up for myself, for once.

Once I've dried my face, I head back to the kitchen and approach Mom. In a calm voice, I say, "Mom. One of the boys at school took a picture of me."

Not a lie. But not the whole truth, either.

"What picture, darling?" she murmurs, tapping on her phone screen. A large gin and tonic rests at her elbow.

I take a deep breath, and then falter. Is this the time to come clean? But if I do, all hell is going to break loose. "Up . . . up my T-shirt. I wasn't wearing a bra."

Mom raises her head and stares straight ahead. Then she puts down her phone and gets to her feet. Relief washes over me. I knew it was the right idea to talk to Mom like an adult. She's never had time for whining and complaining.

Without warning, anger flashes in Mom's eyes, and she slaps me hard across the face. "You disgusting girl."

Pain bursts through my face, and I cry out, covering my cheek with my hand.

"How did this happen?" she seethes.

Now is definitely not the time. It never will be the time. "G-gym class," I stammer, my eyes burning with tears of pain. "I forgot my sports bra." The truth is I don't need a sports bra. My boobs are barely there.

"You come to me with this story and expect me to believe it? You're whoring around in this town again, aren't you? It makes me sick to hear about your shameless behavior."

I flush red to the roots of my hair as I remember the face peering in Connor's steamy car window. Anyone else would have turned and walked away or minded their own business in the first place, but not my family. Uncle Tomaso yanked open the door and dragged me out of the car by my hair and threw me to the ground. He was yelling horrible names at me at the top of his lungs. Connor couldn't drive away fast enough.

"Which boy?" says a dangerous voice from the doorway. "What photo? Where is it?"

I stiffen. I didn't realize Lisa was still in the house.

"Why, do you want a copy?" I snarl over my shoulder, and her expression darkens.

I turn back to Mom, but a strong hand grasps my upper arm and drags me from the kitchen. I fight Lisa every step of the way, but her bruising fingers don't let go. She hustles me out the front door and toward her car parked down the street.

"Let me go."

Lisa pushes me into her vehicle and slams the door behind me. With a squeal of tire rubber, we race down the street.

My cheek is still stinging from Mom's slap, and worse is probably waiting for me when I get home. I haven't even told her I'm suspended yet.

Lisa pulls up and parks by a bridge next to the river. It's a narrow street with the bridge towering over us and sheltered by trees. Absolutely no one is around. She turns to me with a savage glare.

Before she can accuse me of anything, I say, "I didn't send anyone a picture of my tits."

"All right. You didn't."

She doesn't even sneer the words. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I wonder why she believes me, and then I realize why with a dismal feeling.

"What's that face for?" she asks.

"You only believe me because you'd think it was hilarious if I wanted to show these off to anyone." I wave my hand at my chest.

A smile hooks the corner of her mouth as she glances at my top. "I like your tiny tits."

I shove her shoulder with the heel of my palm. "Screw you."

Lisa hooks a finger into the neck of my T-shirt. "Don't believe me? Show 'em to me."

I swat her hands away. "What? No."

"Some little shit who's bald as a baby bird down there has seen your tits and I haven't. I'll tell you what you've got."

"The guys at school are eighteen, not twelve."

Her eyes flash. "You mean they're men? Now I'm jealous. That's it. Lift up your top."

He grasps my waist with both hands and slides her thumbs beneath my T-shirt.

"Stop that," I mutter, wriggling back against the car door. There's barely an inch of space to move. My heart is battering against my ribs. I could jab her in the eyes with my fingernails, but the intensity of her brown gaze has me holding on to her forearms instead. I don't want her to stop looking at me exactly the way she is right now.

Like she really is jealous.

My eyes fasten on the scar that bisects her lips at the corner of her mouth. "How did you get that?"

"Fighting." Staring right in my eyes and moving so slow it's agony, Lisa starts to pull my top up. I have eons of time to stop her, and she's not holding the cotton so hard that I couldn't shove it down. She pushes it high so that it's tight under my arms, totally exposing my breasts. As usual, I'm not wearing a bra.

She drops her eyes and I stare at her face, terrified she's going to laugh at me. I hate that Lisa is good-looking. I hate that she has a long, straight nose, dark brows, and inky black lashes that are too goddamn lush. A hard jaw, and those scarred, teasing lips. Only, they're not teasing now. They're full and soft. Her eyes are soft, too, drinking me in like I'm a work of art.

Lisa plucks my tender nipple between her forefinger and thumb, and it aches so good I moan softly. My waist arches involuntarily in her hands and I suck in a shaky breath.

"Fuck, you're sexy," she says in a roughtened voice.

Jennie Kim, whoring around in a car again, except this time I'm not misbehaving with a boyfriend from school, I'm showing my tits to someone who's nearly thirty, and who happens to be my mom's wife.

Lisa wraps her arms around my back and pulls me closer to her. As she dips her head, her dark hair falls into her eyes. She runs her tongue slowly up one of my breasts, and then pinches my nipple with her teeth.

I moan in her arms and heat floods my pussy. Heat, and a sharp, sweet ache. I brace one hand on the dashboard and another on the roof of the car as I breathe unsteadily. I want to touch Lisa and find out whether her muscles feel as good as they look, but I don't dare touch her because I know she will. She'll feel better than anything I've ever felt before, and I won't be able to let go of her.

She's not yours, I remind myself frantically.

Don't touch her because she's not yours.

"What's this guy's name?" she murmurs coaxingly, running her soft tongue over my nipples. "The one who took the picture. I won't do anything crazy. I'll just make him delete the photo. You want that, don't you, Mandu?"

My God, I might come from just her tongue on my tits. My pulse is racing wildly, and I push my sweaty hand against the dash, trying to think. Will she really not do anything crazy? But everything Lisa does is crazy, including what she's doing to me right now. "I don't trust you."

She takes a nipple in her mouth and sucks me. Hard. "Who, me?"

Oh, fuck. "You married my mom four weeks ago, and now you're . . . now you're . . ."

I feel her smile against my sensitized flesh. "Now I'm having the most fun I've had in years. I'm living under the same roof as a horny little bitch who's been hungry for my cock the moment I met her. She's got the prettiest fuck-me eyes I ever saw, and the sound of her moaning my name while I pound her sweet pussy is all I want for Christmas."

She plants slow kisses up my neck, and like the horny little bitch she says I am, I bare my throat for her. I didn't want her the first moment I saw her. I was just hyperaware of her the moment she stepped in the room with her smirk and those muscles. I was picking up on that big dick energy like my pussy was suddenly a goddamn radar. The more I tried to ignore her, the more violently she intruded in my thoughts.

Now we're in her car and my tits are in her big, warm hands while she kisses my throat. How the hell did this happen?

Lisa pulls back and our faces are inches away from each other's. The scar across the corner of her mouth beckons me to kiss her, while the rest of the world feels very far away.

"Tell me, Bambi," Lisa murmurs, teasing my lips by not quite touching them with her. "Tell me who hurt you, and you'll never have to worry about him again."

"You care that some boy is tormenting me when tormenting me is your favorite thing to do?"

A wicked smile touches her lips. "I'm not tormenting you. This is foreplay." She glances above our heads at my palm pressed tight against the roof of her car. "Why aren't you touching me?"

I don't want to know what she feels like. I don't want to replay the feel of her beneath my hands over and over again as I lay in my bed in the dark, furiously rubbing my clit.

Lisa tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. "Mandu, don't look so terrified. I'm a mouthy bastard, but I'm not going to run off and tell anyone about this. You think I want to draw the wrath of the Kims down on my head by telling them I'm messing around with my stepdaughter?" she smiles wider, her white, shiny canines glinting. "So touch me."

Nope. It's a trap. She touches my body. I touch her. She kisses me. Next thing I know, I'm in the back seat of her car while she pounds the living daylights out of me. Yet another terrible decision.

I swallow, hard. "Let's just go home."

Lisa takes a fistful of my T-shirt and drags it down and settles it carefully back into place over my ribs. She sits back, and finally I can breathe again. "Not until you give me that name."

The world rushes back. Holy shit. How does she command one hundred and ten percent of my attention like that? "Don't worry about it. I don't care anymore."

Lisa's expression darkens. "There's a red mark on your cheek, Mandu. I'm fucking furious. Either we go home and I give your mom hell for putting it there, or you let me unleash it all on the bastard who caused this shit in the first place."

My heart convulses with longing. Suddenly, I don't care if she's sincere or not. Lisa wants to defend me. I crave to know what that feels like for the first time in my life.

I lift my fist and show her the red bruise on my knuckles. "But I got him good already."

Lisa takes my hand and kisses the mark. "You got him so good. But let me finish him off for you. Don't worry, I won't kill him. I'll only punch him hard enough to give him a black eye. Flattening high school wasters isn't much fun."

"He's six feet tall, works out, and has an older brother and a mean father."

He shrugs. "So?"

"They're all into wrestling."

Lisa's eyes flash with delight. "You mean it will be a proper fight? Now you're talking. Name and address. Now."

I sigh and stare straight ahead through the windshield. Maybe I'll regret this, but I tell her the address.

"Good girl," she says, her eyes lighting up as she starts the car.

When we pull up outside Kaleb's house, he and his brother Michael are playing basketball in the driveway. Both of them have stripped off their T-shirts and a good two inches of designer underwear is showing above their belted jeans. They're almost as tall as Lisa, and Michael clearly works out just as much as she does.

Lisa turns to me, her eyebrows lifting. "Jesus. I'm fighting these guys? You couldn't be bullied by Napoleon Dynamite?"

"No one's making you," I tell her, but bitter disappointment creeps into my voice. For a while there, it felt good that someone was going up to bat for me, even if it is my strange, weirdly sexy, and definitely deranged person.

Lisa gives me a lazy grin. "You think I can't take them? Mandu, they're toast."

We stare into each other's eyes and my heart batters against my ribs.

She steps out of the car and calls out, "Which one of you bitches wants to dance?"

I pass a hand over my face. Oh, my God.

Kaleb and Michael exchange glances and a puzzled frown. They seem to get the message that we're not here to sell Girl Scout cookies, though, as Michael throws the basketball aside and the pair stalk menacingly toward the car.

Lisa slams the door and leans down to speak through the window. "Stay there, baby. I'll be right back."

She turns around to face the two boys, still smiling.

All of them are sizing each other up, Kaleb and Michael seem unwilling to get too close until they've figured out who's bigger, meaner, and crazier.

Lisa has no problem stepping up and getting in their faces. "Let's play twenty questions. I'll go first. Who's the prick who took a photo of Jennie?"

Kaleb looks past Lisa and sees me. With a smirk for his brother, he says, "Hey, it's Miss Tiny Tits." He turns back to Lisa. "Who's asking? You her pimp?"

Lisa's smile vanishes. Without warning, she pulls her fist back and slams it into Kaleb's jaw.

Kaleb staggers away with a hand to his face and falls down.

I clamp both my hands over my mouth. Oh, fuck. This was a mistake. Kaleb is a boy and Lisa is a grown one. This is not a fair—

Michael grabs Lisa by the back of her T-shirt, swings her around, and knees her in the nuts. Lisa's eyes bulge and she doubles over with a groan. Then Michael's knee hits her in the face, and blood pours from Lisa's nose and drips onto the concrete.

I take my hands away from my mouth and wince. Okay, maybe it's fair.

Kaleb recovers and gets to his feet, ready to lay into Lisa, but Lisa straightens up, and sweeps her feet out from beneath her. While Kaleb is down again, she throws a punch at Michael. Michael might be big, but he's slow, and he doesn't see Lisa coming and gets a split lip for his carelessness.

Lisa pushes Michael back against the house and points a finger in his face. "Stay out of this. I'm not going to hurt your brother. I want his phone and then I'm leaving."

She goes back to Kaleb who's just started to sit up. Lisa stands over him with her hand outstretched. There's blood all over her lips and chin. "Your phone. Then I'm leaving."

"Why? Who the hell are you?" Kaleb snivels like a ten-year-old boy, dabbing at his bleeding nose with his fingers.

"Jennie's guardian," Lisa seethes. "And you know why. That picture you have on your phone of my girl."

With a sulky expression on his bloody face, Kaleb reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out.

Just then, a truck comes roaring down the street. Kaleb and Michael both turn around to look, their faces lighting up. The driver parks behind me and gets out, and he's freaking huge. He's older than Kaleb and Michael, and he's six-foot-something of seasoned, angry muscle in a trucker cap and wife beater. This must be Kaleb's dad, and he's pissed.

He surveys the scene before him, reaches into the back of his truck, and pulls out a baseball bat.

"What the hell is going on?" He walks straight past the Camaro toward Lisa without seeing me, brandishing the bat like he can't wait to beat someone to death with it. Michael, energized by the sight of his dad, starts closing in on Lisa. Even Kaleb is grinning.

Lisa's expression goes slack. "Oh, fuck."

Oh fuck, indeed. Without thinking twice, I scooch over the handbrake into the driver's seat and start the car. It squeals as I rev the engine and struggle to remember how to put it in gear. Stick shifts. I can't drive goddamn stick shifts.

After a moment of fumbling, the car shoots forward past Kaleb's dad, and I slam the brakes next to Lisa. "Get in!"

She doesn't need to be told twice. She snatches Kaleb's phone from him, pulls the door open, and jumps in the car.

"Don't stall, please don't stall," I beg the laboring engine. In the side mirror, Kaleb's dad is getting closer and closer with that baseball bat. Michael has run into the garage, and he's come out with a bat of his own.

"What are you playing at, Mandu? Go."

I move my foot on the clutch and the engine sputters into life. Gasping in relief, I pull away from the curb and slam my foot on the accelerator. The car whines in protest. I forgot to put it in second gear and we're only going ten miles an hour.

Lisa is twisted around in the passenger seat so she can look out the back window. I see in the rearview mirror that the truck swings out onto the street and races after us, three people sitting inside it.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God," I say over and over as my blood roars in my ears. I change up through second to third gear and there's an excruciating grinding sound.

Lisa stares at the stick shift and then up at me. "What the hell are you doing?"

I'm panicking, that's what. We're going to be caught and have our heads caved in with a baseball bat. "I can't drive your stupid car! I only took three lessons in a manual."

"Clutch," Lisa orders, and I push with my foot. She puts her hand over mine, yanks the stick down into fourth and we slam into gear. The powerful engine roars and we shoot forward. For a second, my heart lifts.

But the truck is gaining on us.

The street ends, and I change down to second before taking the corner at speed. The back end skids out in a squeal of rubber and we nearly hit a tree. I wait for Lisa to shout at me to be more careful with her precious car.

She pats my shoulder, hard, still staring behind us. "Yes! You've got this, Mandu. Leave them in the dust."

The road is clear ahead. I take a deep breath.

And floor it.

The gears change smoothly. Lisa whoops in delight as we race ahead.

But the truck isn't giving up. Kaleb is leaning out of the passenger window, hollering something indistinguishable but threatening. He gets louder and louder as the truck surges up on our ass.

This is my neighborhood, and I happen to know there's a slip road down to the river that appears almost out of nowhere on the crest of a hill. I accelerate like I'm determined to get us up and over the bridge to the main road on the other side. The truck changes lanes to our left, preparing to overtake us and cut us off. They haven't noticed the slip road. We're driving past it. We're almost past it.

With my heart in my throat, I wrench the wheel to the right. Horns blare, and my stomach seems to vanish completely from my body. The Camaro grips the road and stays on course. The truck shoots past us over the bridge, and I hear a roar of frustration from the three men in the car.

I let out a scream of triumph and step on the gas, and we head down the side road and along the river.

Lisa slams the dashboard with her fist and grins. "You lost them. Fuck yeah, Mandu."

I'm laughing too hard to catch my breath. The truck will be lost in a tangle of red lights and traffic by now. I take a right-hand turn and head for home.

"That was crazy. First I thought you were going to kill them. Then I thought they were going to kill you."

Lisa waves away my concern. "Please, I had the upper hand the entire time."

"Yeah, you had the upper hand with your nuts when Michael slammed them with his knee."

She winces. "Be nice about my nuts." She pulls the phone out of her pocket and holds it up. "Are you going to tell me what this photo is and how they really got it?"

The smile dies on my face. Lisa doesn't believe my lie about not wearing a sports bra during gym class. When I don't answer, she rolls down her window and throws the phone out. It sails away behind us and falls into the river.

I glance over my shoulder in surprise. "You're not going to look at it? You're not even going to bug me about it?"

She smirks at me, relaxing back in her seat, looking too damn sexy for someone with blood all over her face. "The memory of your soft tits in my mouth is going to be better than any photo. Nice driving, Mandu."

I find myself relaxing, too, enjoying the breeze in my hair and the thrum of the powerful engine. "Your car made it easy."

"Modded her myself." She lovingly pats the dash. "But you still drove like a hot bitch."

My mouth twitches as a warm glow spreads through me. The road opens up before us, and it feels like freedom. It causes a physical ache in my chest to head for home.

When we walk through the front door, Mom looks with distaste upon Lisa's bloody face and my wild hair and flushed cheeks.

"We sorted out the prick who took that photo of Jennie. You're welcome," Lisa tells her.

Mom gives her an overly sweet smile. "Thank you for defending my daughter's honor, wife darling."

The smile drops from her face, and she shakes her head like she's disgusted with both of us.

Lisa points a finger in her face and looms over her. "Don't lay a hand on your daughter ever again."

Mom gazes up at her with a bored expression. "One afternoon of beating up some teenagers and you think you're the man of the house? Go and get cleaned up. You're a disgrace." She turns back to her phone, muttering, "Both of you."

Blood is still dripping from Lisa's nose. I grab an ice pack from the freezer and push at her shoulder. The last thing we need is another explosive fight in this house. "Come on. Let's go upstairs."

In the bathroom, she perches on the edge of the tub while I wipe the blood from her face with a damp washcloth.

"In all my fighting days, I was never tended to by such a pretty girl."

I shrug, gently dabbing around her nose like it doesn't matter to me one drop that Lisa just called me pretty. "This doesn't look broken, but I think you're going to be sore."

She smiles up at me, her eyes sparkling. "It was worth it."

With a jolt, I realize I'm standing between her spread knees. She has her hands braced on the edge of the tub like she's inviting me to get closer.

I should move away.

I don't move away.

Instead, I reach behind me for the ice pack and press it gently over her nose. She hisses in pain, and reaches up to take it from me, holding it in place.

"That boy might still have that photo of you," Lisa tells me. "He could have sent it to a friend or backed it up."

"Maybe," I murmur. I don't know if I care much anymore. That photo was all about power, and Lisa and I just went and took a good chunk of it away from Kaleb. "Let them enjoy my tiny tits if they're so obsessed with me."

A smile spreads over Lisa's face. "You're a fucking badass."

"Who, me?" I step to the side to grab a clean washcloth and wet it. When I step back, her knee is between my thighs, and I squeeze her, pretending to be intent on wiping the last of the blood from her jaw and throat.

Lisa groans and her hand with the ice pack drops away from her nose. Her face is on the same level as my torso, and she gazes at my bare waist and hips like she's wondering what I taste like.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Mandu?" she murmurs huskily.

I give a choking sort of laugh like I'm not vividly imagining straddling her thighs.

"Turn around and pull your panties to one side for me. A quick fuck before we go downstairs for dinner with your mom."

My heart races, and then trips up and goes flying on one of the words she's spoken. Mom.

What the hell am I doing? Lisa is married to my mother, and she's downstairs right this second waiting for us. They snipe at each other, but a lot of couples do that when they care for each other. I'm sure Mom cares about Lisa in her own way. She doesn't deserve a wife who cheats on her with her own daughter.

And there's something else. I've been giving Lisa the impression that I'm a lot more experienced than I really am. I'm not a saint, but I am a virgin. Lisa seems like her type is women who know what they're doing. Once I tell her that I don't, she'll lose interest.

Cheeks burning, I mutter, "What an enticing first time."

"We're in a hurry, but I won't leave you wanting. This dick is magic, Mandu. Hop on and give it a try."

Revulsion bursts through me at her callous words. She's so depraved that she can talk about deflowering her stepdaughter like it's nothing. Like I'm nothing.

I'm so tired of feeling like I'm nothing.

I take the ice pack out of her hand and slap it back on her face. Hard, so that she winces. Lisa doesn't want me. She just wants the twisted clout of saying she fucked her stepdaughter.

I step away from her. "You're a pig. Thank you for an evening of cheap thrills and mindless violence, but keep your hands to yourself from now on."