Free Little Brats: Olivia: Forbidden Taboo Erotica by Selena Kitt

 
    “Are you going upstairs already?” Olivia’s mother caught her trying to make a quick exit.
    She should have known the woman would notice her leaving. Catherine Comstock didn’t miss much, even with every room in their giant house filled with author bigwigs and various other names in the publishing industry, from bottom-feeding agents and lowly editors all the way up to the heads of some of the largest publishing companies in the world.
    “I was just… going…” Olivia eyed the curving staircase longingly.
    “I noticed.” Catherine sighed, tucking a bit of short, red hair, almost the same color as her daughter’s, behind her delicate ear. “Have you see your father?”
    “Stepfather,” Olivia corrected under her breath, but her mother didn’t hear.
    She didn’t correct her because she had any objection to the man as a father figure. He was actually quite good in the role, far better than any of the others her mother had paraded through their large estate. No, she corrected her mostly to remind herself—they weren’t related. Not by blood. Not technically. And that meant, the things she felt about him, while they weren’t exactly ethical, weren’t altogether illegal either.
    “I wanted to introduce him to Stephen Pines.” Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she searched the room, looking for her husband. Randall Ahrens—that was his name on all his bestselling thriller novels—was nowhere to be found. And if he was around, Olivia would have known. Her body had a way of telling her when her stepfather entered a room.
    “The agent?” Olivia frowned at her mother. “But Daddy has an agent. He’s writing young adult now.”
    “Yes, I know.” Catherine rolled her pretty green eyes—also very like her daughter’s. “But Stephen was supposed to help me convince him to go back to writing thrillers. He could go A-list again, if he wanted to, you know. He’s simply throwing his career away.”
    Olivia did her best not to roll her eyes. She was tired of hearing about how Randall was throwing his life away writing books for teens. Catherine crossed her arms over her large, fake breasts—they practically fell out of her expensive Dior dress—and surveyed the room again, as if just by doing so, she could make her husband appear.
    Hair and eye color were where the similarities in mother and daughter ended. Catherine was tall, thin, almost waif-like. She hardly had any curves at all—her breasts were it, and those were fake—let alone the kinds of curves her daughter sported. Catherine had picked out not only her dress tonight, but her daughter’s as well, including the torture device Olivia wore underneath, designed to not only keep in any “unsightly rolls” but apparently to keep air out of the lungs as well. Olivia had broken out in a sweat just trying to get the damned thing on.
    Olivia looked longingly again at the stairs, wanting nothing more than to go change into something more comfortable—like an over-sized men’s dress shirt, preferably one of her stepfather’s. She liked wearing them with loosely worn ties and comfy, stretch jeans. It worked well to hide the chubbiness her mother was always either complaining about or begging her to lose. The latter wasn’t easy, considering how much Olivia love to bake. And eat what she baked.
    “So you haven’t seen him?” Catherine asked, narrowing her eyes at her daughter.
    “No,” she replied, smoothing her hands over her dress, self-conscious with her mother’s gaze on her. “Not for a while.”
    “I bet he went upstairs.” Catherine glanced up the stairway with a long sigh. “Just like you, trying to escape.”
    “I can go look for him,” Olivia offered hopefully.
    “No,” Her mother wagged a finger at her. “You go check on the kitchen help. Tell them we need more crab cakes out.”
    “Okay.” Olivia nodded, turning away from her possible exit, heading in the other direction.
    “And don’t eat any more of those cookies!” Her