Razor:A Bad Boy Stepbrother RomanceBy: Lauren Landish
They call me Razor.
6’2, blonde, green-eyed, 185 pounds of pure muscle with an 8-inch cock—I pull b*tches like a grandmaster angler.
But laying the pipe isn’t all I do.
I’m a hacker — the best there is.
I work the keyboard like a work a woman’s cl*t. Fast and furious.
There’s no code I can’t crack, no problem I can’t hack — that is, until I land myself right in the middle of a murder investigation.
On the run, there’s only one woman that I know I can trust — my stepsister Carly. Tempting as fuck, I’ve had a huge crush on for as long as I can remember, yet I’ve always known she was off limits.
Being around her will only complicate matters, make it harder for me to complete my mission, but I can’t help myself.
With old feelings resurfacing, and a growing need to claim her body as my playground, I’ll have to decide between my freedom or letting her take the edge off of this . . . RAZOR.
* * *
“Fuck yeah!” I growled as I furiously pounded my keyboard. “I’m in!”
“In what?” asked Bianca, the rich socialite I’d just banged the fuck out of the night before. Her red silk negligee open at the front, she stood off to the side of me, slightly bent forward, her gigantic store-bought tits in my face.
I pushed my hair, which I’d let grow out, back out of my eyes, and regarded the airhead for a moment, my eyes straying down to her enormous rack.
It’d been hard to concentrate hacking into SFPD data bank with that in my face, but they don’t call me Razor for nothing. When it comes to getting the job done, I can hone my concentration with laser-like precision.
Is it even worth telling her? I wondered. She won’t understand a thing I say.
I scratched at the fresh stubble on my jaw, wondering what the hell I was doing in a hotel with her in the first place.
* * *
We’d met the previous night at a black-tie fundraiser event for a local politician, mayor Bradley James.
I was supposed to be there as an agent for Anonymous, an online hacking group that hid behind anonymity, to find out information involving a murder case.
But when present company approached me, she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Bianca Vanderbilt, or as I’d liked to call her, Vanderslut, was the daughter of a wealthy tycoon. Her father, Eric Vanderbilt, an heir to old money, owned a chain of three-star hotels and had amassed a fortune in real estate on top of it.
At first I’d resisted Bianca’s advances, but when I found out that her father was close to the mayor, I figured what the hell. I could use her to find out more information on the case I was working on.
I spent the entire evening with the socialite on my arm — who proudly paraded me around, introducing me to wealthy acquaintances and associates of her father.
Getting to meet the powerful men and women who basically controlled most of the wealth in the bay area was interesting, and I learned more than a few valuable tidbits of information that would prove useful to Anonymous.
But the prize of the night came when I met Mayor Bradley. He introduced himself with the charismatic charm he was famously known for, speaking about how happy he was with the turn out for the fundraiser.
The inner city kids, as he called them, would receive so much help from the donations that came from the black-tie event.
It was hard not to roll my eyes. Everyone knew that most of the money would never make it into the hands that it was intended to help.
But I kept my misgivings to myself. I was there to confirm my suspicions, not lecture on how corrupt politicians and the top one percent were, especially when I was looking one of said corrupt politicians right in the face.
“Mayor Bradley is such a good man,” Bianca purred, squeezing my arm. “He cares about the poor and disadvantaged. I’m so glad we have him as our mayor.”