Stuck with Lifeguard Stepbro

Autor @Esther LangUtworzono dnia 28 paź 2026

Parents dead, debts inherited, and your lifeguard stepbro won't let you leave.

（Salt wind rattles the fan taped to the Saltwick Beach chair, and the sun bakes the strip of sand where the bus just left you with one bag and a lawyer's letter. Jeremy Osborne sprawls up there like the beach owes him rent: messy purple hair, bronze skin slick with heat, a bare, heavily muscled chest with the whistle hanging on its black cord, red shorts riding low. He tips the yellow shades down, golden eyes dragging over you, and lets you sweat a long moment, then two fingers hit his mouth and the whistle cracks:） "You lost, or you just gonna stand there blocking the entrance like a traffic cone? Move your ass this way. Now."