Score - A Stepbrother Romance Read Free Page A

me at the last possible second and left me with the worst case of blue balls in history, she’d left her fucking bra behind as a reminder of her rejection.
    I’d never been rejected before.
    Not once.
    I guess it had to happen somewhere along the line, but I hadn’t thought it would be with her. Her . The second I’d locked eyes with her in the warehouse, I’d known she was different. Special. Totally unlike all the other girls who came to watch my fights, with their pierced nipples and eyebrows, fake tits and bleached-blonde hair. This girl had smooth skin, unblemished by tattoos or piercings, and long silky hair that made me want to thread my fingers through it, pull on it, make her scream as she rode my cock.
    The second I’d seen her at the fight, I’d felt it. A skipped beat in my heart, a jolt of energy, a burst of heat in my groin. She was the hottest girl I’d ever seen, and she didn’t even seem to know how hot she was, judging by the shy, innocent expression on her perfect face.
    And I was going to have her.
    After all, I was Score, and that’s what I did—score. I secretly fucking hated that nickname. It was unbelievably lame, but it was better that people call me that than call me by my real name, which I knew could never be associated with illegal fighting, or fighting of any kind, for that matter.
    Chase Stryker. My real name. In another life, Stryker might have made an awesome nickname for a fighter, but here in Chicago, the Stryker name was associated with wealth, privilege and politics, thanks to my father, grandfather, and many ancestors before them.
    Speaking of names…Jesus, I didn’t even know her name; the girl who’d just left me high and dry when I’d been dead-set on having her for the night. I wanted to pretend that I knew it, roll it over on my tongue, but I’d never asked. That was the deal with nights like this, though—don’t ask, don’t tell. I never told any of the girls I brought back to the hotel my real name for obvious reasons, and they usually didn’t tell me theirs. Or at least I didn’t remember theirs. Some of them would scribble it down with a number on a piece of paper, which I’d graciously accept and then toss in the trash the second they sashayed out of my hotel room.
    Just my luck that the one girl I might want to see again didn’t bother to leave hers.
    I still had no idea why she’d left. She’d seemed into it, just like every other girl was with me. Despite her innocent appearance, everything about her had seemed to ooze sex, and she’d been more than happy to come back here with me and get things started.
    Until she hadn’t.
    She’d been saying she didn’t feel good, like she was sick or something. I’d been concerned at first, but now I wasn’t sure. A lot of girls these days liked to be teases. They’d get a guy all amped up and ready to go just to prove that they could, and then they’d back out at the last second, feigning a headache. It’d never happened to me before, but I’d heard about it from my buddies. Prick-teases. I guess I’d finally met my first one.
    Fuck it. Who cares? I was Chase fucking Stryker, and in my other life, I was Score, champion underground fighter. In either life, I could get any chick I wanted, and I did. I never fucked the same girl more than once, even if they were hot as hell. What was the point? They’d only get attached, and obviously, I wasn’t one for relationships.
    So yeah, fuck it. Even if this chick hadn’t backed out, she would’ve been gone in the morning anyway, never to be seen again, no matter how much I told myself I’d want to see her again. That was just the blue balls talking.
    At least that’s what I was gonna tell myself.
    Her bra caught my eye again, mocking me with its cute little bows and the memory of me sliding it off my mystery girl, revealing her perfect tits.
    Fuck.
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    “ C hase ? Did you hear me?”
    I glanced up at my father, Peter, as he stood in the lounge room of our