Climb on My Stepfather (Ashley and Alex)

Chapter 49

DADDY'S NAUGHTY GIRL.

Lia Amarie has been in love with Tristan Hemsworth ever since middle school when he moved in next door with his little son, who she instantly became best friends with. Now she's nineteen, and still very much lusting over the sexy, very much older billionaire Adonis's hot body, every beautiful inch. But to Tristan, Lia will always be off-limits. The little girl who always ran out to hug him whenever he came back from work. Can she rise above this silly perceived notion and show him that she can be a bad, naughty girl?

1: Lia.

"Nine...ten. Ready or not, Eric, 'm coming your way!" I yell, pulling off the black blindfold around my eyes, and sprinting out of the house, towards the garden.

We'd played hide-and-seek a thousand times — mostly when we got tired of video games and wanted a little excitement aside from board games — and each and every time, Eric always hid in the garden, close to the thickest rose patch or in the abandoned den behind their huge mansion. Today, however, he wasn't in the garden, and I start getting worn out when I see that he's not in the abandoned den as well. Taking a detour back into the house, I stand still in the foyer and shut my eyes, listening. I hear things being moved about in the storeroom to my left, accompanied by intense giggling.

Smirking, I tiptoe towards the storeroom and, with a deep breath, kicked the door open, catching Eric right before he slipped into an old sack. "Aha!

Gotcha!" I lunge at him, knocking him off his feet as we both fall onto an old mattress, wrestling each other and laughing. He tickled my sides, causing my arms to fly out, and flatten themselves over his broad, solid chest. I'll be lying to myself if I said I didn't know when they morphed from soft, baby flesh, to rock hard solid overnight. Just like how I'd traded my breasts- soft handballs — for big, supple oranges.

Ever since I met Eric in sixth grade, we'd gotten along like bread and butter.

His house was my second home, and we were inseparable. Literally. His friends were my friends, and one of us hardly took a decision without informing the other of it first. Little wonder why everyone expected that, after high school, when we both will move to the city, we'll get married.

I haven't given much thought to marriage. Ever. And Eric would be the last man I would want to spend the rest of my life with. I'm sure he feels the same way too. Our bond is entirely platonic and we do see each other more as siblings.

He pinches my upper arm now, and I yowl, aiming a kick for his balls which he dodges smartly. We roll about like bunnies for a while, before disentangling, our hands clasped together as we look up at the dusty ceiling, trying to catch our breaths, giggling.

"How did you know I was in here?" Eric asks, probing my side. I gasped, whirling away.

"Stop! I just... I didn't find you in the garden or the abandoned den so I..." I'm getting ready to slip out of his reach and kick him out of the bed with the heel of my foot when I hear the front door of the house open and close curtly. And I end up losing my focus and falling off the mattress instead.

He's home.

Six o'clock on the dot every evening. Not a minute more. Not a minute less.

It's him. The only man who can make my stomach flip.

like a paper that'd caught flame, rattling like a rickety

Eric's father is home.

Tristan McHemma Hemsworth.

laughing son. He shakes his head and moves on, towards the kitchen, barely giving me

his pants and

and I were born in the same month and our dates were only three days apart so we also celebrated it together like twins. I hadn't envisioned that Tristan was fond of water, or that he'd strip out of his immaculate suit and join us in. I merely thought he'd wait for us at the parents' section, so you can imagine my surprise when I saw him swimming up to us

of his thick, huge,

made my belly so ticklish, I turned so red, Eric had

forty-six, a single-father

I'm nineteen.

been silently, passionately, madly in love with him since I was

grow older, but honestly, no one compares. No one ever seems capable. What Tristan does to me in my dreams is more fulfilling than what any boy could hope to accomplish in real life. I'm not exaggerating, which is the reason why I don't even bother with them. College starts in a few months, and I'm already doubly

paid - sadness clumps itself around my guts, making me groan as I rise to my feet, dusting myself off. I flash a breezy smile at Eric. "I'm going to grab some water from the kitchen. I'm so parched." I tuck a stray strand of my ginger red hair behind my ear and exhaled. "Want anything while I'm at it?" "No," Eric says, standing up

help as well.

hair back, and put ona flirtatious smile. It's like a superpower - I've disarmed almost every man I've come across with my smile and suggestive body language. I'm known for being a smart flirt. A sly tease. They're wrong, but Godforbid they ever find out that it's all a facade. That I'm just pretending. Treading water. Try as much as they can to resist me, I've always gotten what

Tristan mine. I don't care what I have to

how it hurts to keep seeing someone who you desperately

he's mine for a moment, like I always

time I head in for

his phone, the frown on his face deepening every passing second. His mid-section is suspended as he puts his full weight on his elbows, those meaty fingers clasped around the gadget's shiny body. At the mere closeness of him, and the knowledge

trail a finger down the wall of the archway. "What's making you so

says dryly, not taking his

How are you?"

propping a hip on the low cabinetry. "I

brief look, but his eyes doesn't seem to see

I'm offering.

Of course

him, I'm still the little girl who ran out to hug and welcome him whenever he came

to you. The alarm system is also engaged and the gate electrified," he