Claim Me, Alpha StepBrothers

You Better Stay Away From Me

~Olive~

“Olive.” He says my name like he’s tasting it. Like he’s rolling it around on his tongue and deciding whether to swallow or spit.

“Welcome to Hayes House.”

“Thanks.” I make my voice flat. Ice-cold. Bored. Dad taught me this move when I was nine and that little s**t Tommy Aldrich kept yanking my hair on the bus: don’t react, baby. You react, you feed it. You go cold, it starves. “Looking forward to it.”

His mouth does this tiny thing — just the corner lifts, two millimeters max — and I realize, with the kind of horror usually reserved for waking up in a hospital bed missing a kidney, that I already lost the first round.

He liked that.

He liked me going cold.

Oh, f**k me.

“This is my brother.” Crew tilts his head, lazy as hell, toward the staircase. “He’s a little slow today.”

I look up.

Cassius Hayes hasn’t moved.

He’s frozen on the fourth step from the top, one hand gripping the banister like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. He’s looking at me the way men look at car accidents. The way Pompeii probably looked at that volcano right before everything went to hell. Like I walked in with a loaded gun in my mouth and begged him to pull the trigger.

And the worst part — the part that’s gonna keep me up tonight, the part I’m gonna have to sit on like a woman forcing a suitcase shut — is that he’s beautiful.

My stupid f*****g p***y clenches hard the second my eyes drag over him. A hot, traitorous throb that makes me want to slap myself. No.

These are the sons of the man who killed Dad. I should be plotting murder, not feeling my c**t pulse like a desperate little slut at the sight of two rich, arrogant twin alphas staring at me like I’m dinner. But my body doesn’t give a f**k. Heat floods between my thighs, slick and sudden, soaking my panties in seconds.

My n*****s tighten against the red dress. Traitor. Filthy f*****g traitor.

He’s also the color of a fresh bedsheet. Hasn’t blinked. Hasn’t breathed.

I think — I’m not totally sure, but I’m pretty f*****g sure — Cassius Hayes is having a small private medical emergency right there on the stairs.

Good. Good. Let him suffer while my p***y betrays me.

“Cas.” Richard’s voice, all warm and fatherly. “Come say hello to Olive.”

Cas doesn’t move.

Cas stops right in front of me. Close enough I can smell him — dark, expensive cologne, smoky, dangerous. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

“Olive.”

Fuck.

My p***y flutters again, a deep, needy ache that makes me press my thighs together. I hate how wet I am already. I hate how my body is screaming yes while my brain is screaming revenge.

I smile up at him, sweet as sugar. “Hi, Cassius. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Welcome… to our home.” It comes out in three jagged pieces, like he had to glue them together.

“Thanks.” I keep the smile glued on. “I’m sure I’ll love it here.”

Behind him, Crew makes a quiet sound — half laugh, half choke. Richard claps his hands like this is all perfectly normal.

“Wonderful! Diane, darling, the staff has prepared a small dinner — just the five of us, very intimate. Olive, do you like duck? My boy makes a spectacular duck—”

“Cas cooks?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

Crew grins like a knife. “He’s full of surprises, our Cassius.”

“I look forward to it,” I say, eyes still locked on Cas. Duck tastes like sad expensive chicken, but whatever. I’ve decided: I’m going to make Cassius Hayes cook for me. I’m going to eat every bite and stare him dead in the eyes while I do it.

Richard and Mom disappear upstairs after a few more fake pleasantries.

The second their footsteps fade on the marble, I drop the smile like it burned me. I look up at Cassius — way up, because the height difference is annoying as f**k and let my real voice out. The one Dad sharpened in me.

“Listen to me very carefully, Cassius. And you too, sis-boy.”

Crew chokes on another laugh. I don’t look.

“I do not want to be here. I do not want to live in this house. I do not want to call your father Dad. I do not want a tour, a duck dinner, or either of you looking at me, speaking to me, sitting next to me, or breathing in my direction for the next four months while my mother gets her first happy autumn in twelve years.”

In exchange,” I continue, “I won’t tell my mum how y’all bullied me during sophomore year.”

Crew’s eyebrows shoot up, then he laughs. “Holy s**t. That Olive Marchetti. The feisty little firecracker who used to shoot daggers at me every time I messed with her. Crazy s**t, Dad really outdid himself. We attend the same f*****g highscoll. Small f*****g world, baby sister.”

He circles me slow, eyes dragging over my body like he’s undressing me right there in the foyer. My stupid p***y clenches hard at the heat in his gaze — a filthy, traitorous throb that makes fresh slick gush into my panties. f**k.

These are the sons of the man who destroyed my dad. I should be spitting in their faces, not standing here with my cunt dripping like a desperate w***e just because two hot, arrogant twin alphas are looking at me like I’m their next meal.

Crew leans in close, breath hot against my ear. “You grew up nice, Olive. Real f*****g nice. That tight little red dress is doing things to me… making me remember how fun it was to get under your skin back then. Bet it’d be even more fun getting under this dress now. Tell me, baby sister — you still get that feisty little attitude when you’re wet? Or do you turn into a sweet, whimpering mess when a real man pins you down and stretches that pretty p***y open?”

My c**t pulses so hard I have to bite the inside of my cheek. Heat floods my face, my t**s, straight down to my soaked core. My n*****s are aching against the fabric. Traitor body. Filthy f*****g traitor. I hate them. I want them dead. But god, my p***y is throbbing, clenching around nothing, begging for exactly what he’s describing.

Cas is still staring, jaw tight, eyes black. He finally steps closer too, voice rough and low like gravel. “Crew.” A warning. But his eyes are on my mouth, then lower, like he can’t stop himself. “She said she doesn’t want us breathing near her.”

Crew smirks, not moving an inch. “Yeah? But her body’s saying something else, bro. Look at her thighs pressing together. Bet that little cunt is already dripping for her new stepbrothers. Isn’t it, Olive? You came in here all ice queen, but deep down you’re dying for us to bend you over and f**k the revenge right out of you. Slow at first… then deep, hard, filling you up until you’re creaming and begging like a good little stepsister slut.”

Cas’s hand twitches at his side. His voice comes out quieter but no less filthy. “She tastes like trouble. Bet she’d taste even better spread open on my tongue.”

What the actual f**k.

My brain is screaming revenge, but my body is screaming yes, ruin me, claim me, make me forget everything.

I force a shaky laugh, trying to sound cold even as my voice comes out breathy. “You two are delusional if you think I’d ever let you touch me.”

Crew grins wider, wicked. “We’ll see about that, baby sister. Dinner’s gonna be real interesting tonight. Maybe Cas’ll cook that duck… and maybe later we’ll give you a real welcome home. Something hot, wet, and deep enough to make you forget all that sophomore year bullshit.”

Cas just stares, eyes promising things that make my knees weak and my cunt throb even harder.

Fuck. This is so bad.

I’m already in trouble.

And the worst part? I’m not sure I want to get out of it.