{"id":254489,"date":"2026-07-13T03:34:49","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T00:34:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/bite-before-you-kiss-jenny-pineapple\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T03:34:49","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T00:34:49","slug":"bite-before-you-kiss-jenny-pineapple","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/bite-before-you-kiss-jenny-pineapple\/","title":{"rendered":"Bite Before You Kiss – Jenny Pineapple"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u201cFuck you.\u201d \u201cNo, fuck you.\u201d I shove him harder against the wall. \u201cYou\u2019re so desperate for attention you\u2019ll do anything, won\u2019t you? Even destroy our family.\u201d He laughs, the sound sharp and ugly. \u201cThere was never an \u2018our\u2019 anything. I was just the unwanted baggage that came with my mom.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not true, and you know it. My dad loved you as his own son.\u201d \u201cYeah, but you hated me. Ever since you found out I was a faggot, right?\u201d The accusation lands like a dagger between my ribs. \u201cThis isn\u2019t about you being gay.\u201d \u201cBullshit!\u201d He pushes back, catching me off guard. His hands slam into my chest, and I stumble backward.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything was fine until you saw those messages on my phone. Then suddenly I was nothing to you.\u201d I recover my balance, fury pounding through me in waves. \u201cYou have no fucking idea what you\u2019re talking about.\u201d \u201cI know exactly what I\u2019m talking about.\u201d River advances on me, fists clenched at his sides.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou couldn\u2019t handle it. Poor straight Theo, having to deal with his stepbrother wanting to suck cock.\u201d I lunge forward without thinking, tackling him around the waist. River\u2019s body collides with mine, and we go down hard, crashing into the rickety coffee table. The wood splinters beneath our combined weight with a sickening crack. My training screams at me to stop\u2014he has a head injury, check for new wounds, assess the damage\u2014but it\u2019s drowned out by years of bottled rage.<\/p>\n

We hit the floor in a tangle of limbs, both of us grunting with the impact. River lets out a wild laugh, even as I see him wince in pain. \u201cFinally! Some honesty from the perfect Theo Wells.\u201d I straddle him, pinning his shoulders to the floor amidst the wreckage of the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want honesty? How\u2019s this\u2014you\u2019re a selfish piece of shit who\u2019s never taken responsibility for anything in his life.\u201d<\/p>\n

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No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author. Copyright \u00a9 2025 by Jenny Pineapple 1kitap1.com\/en Warning This story includes references to past parental death and grief. While these events are not depicted on the page, they are mentioned in the characters\u2019 backstory and may be distressing to some readers. The story also contains homophobic slurs and descriptive sex scenes suitable only for a mature audience, including consensual degradation and light bondage.<\/p>\n

1kitap1.com\/en Table of Contents 1 THEO 2 RIVER 3 THEO 4 THEO 5 RIVER 6 THEO 7 RIVER AUTHOR’S NOTE OTHER BOOKS BY JENNY PINEAPPLE 1kitap1.com\/en 1 Theo THE RADIO CRACKLES TO life with dispatch\u2019s monotone voice. Another day, another call for the crew of Station Thirteen. I tug my turnout coat tighter as Martinez guns the engine, sending us screaming through midday traffic. Car accident, two vehicles. My muscles tense with familiar anticipation, that current of adrenaline beginning to hum beneath my skin.<\/p>\n

\u201cIntersection of Maple and Fourth,\u201d Lieutenant Reese announces from the passenger seat, eyes fixed on his tablet. \u201cPolice are already on scene. No fire reported, but extraction required for at least one vehicle.\u201d I nod, checking my gear out of habit more than necessity. Behind me, Dawson and Sullivan do the same, their movements precise. The siren wails overhead, parting traffic. Through the windshield, gray clouds hang low, threatening rain that hasn\u2019t yet materialized. \u201cBet it\u2019s another idiot on their phone,\u201d Sullivan mutters, adjusting his helmet strap.<\/p>\n

\u201cTwenty bucks says red light runner,\u201d Dawson counters. I don\u2019t join their betting pool. Never do. And it\u2019s not just because years on the job have taught me that speculation is pointless\u2014I have personal reasons that I never share with my crew. The engine slows as we approach the scene. Flashing police lights dance over storefronts.<\/p>\n

Two cars sit in the middle of the intersection\u2014a sedan with its front end crumpled and a smaller compact car spun sideways, driver\u2019s side caved in. Glass sparkles across the asphalt like cruel confetti. We pull up behind the police cruiser, and I\u2019m out before the engine stops, boots hitting the ground. The weight of my med kit thumps against my hip as I scan the scene, cataloging details with clinical detachment.<\/p>\n

A uniformed officer jogs over, her face serious beneath the brim of her hat.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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