Chapter 10 #3
I want more, and by the look in his eyes, he does too.
With a steady hand on my back, he guides me back just enough to make room, keeping me balanced over him as he leans down.
His lips close over my breast, and heat spirals low in my belly, a slow ache blooming between my thighs as his mouth draws soft, needy sounds from me.
He drags his tongue across my nipple, moaning like I’m something he’s been starving for, savouring each taste.
My lips part to beg for more—more, more—but only a broken whimper slips out.
“Please.”
The sound vibrates between us, and his answering approval rumbles deep in his chest, a low growl of promise against my skin. I pull my hips back, but before I can rock forward again, he’s got one tattooed hand around my throat, freezing me in my tracks.
“Look at you,” he growls, voice thick with heat. “My needy little slut. So desperate to get off, you’re going to make yourself come on your stepbrother's lap, just like this. Aren’t you?”
The words burn through me; the feeling of being completely at his mercy is almost dizzying. I hold his gaze, teeth sinking into my lip, back arching as I grind against the thick length of him, back and forth, surrendering to the pressure and pace I crave.
In the mirror across the room, a flash of us catches my eye.
The sight is obscene, a living fantasy, and it makes my hips roll again.
A tremor sparks low in my belly, curling around my clit until my breath hitches and the pressure climbs.
It’s like a vibration at the edges of my body, seeping into my skin, threatening to spill over.
He curses, raw and ragged, and slides his hand between us, tugging my underwear aside.
The first brush of his knuckles over my clit pulls a gasp from my throat, my hips lifting to chase the touch.
My breath splinters as his fingers dip inside me, at first just a tease, stroking and retreating, edging me until I’m ready to beg.
Then, at the last second, he changes it up.
His thumb presses hard to my clit while two thick fingers drive deep, finding that perfect spot and playing it like he’s learned my body by heart already.
Pleasure ricochets through me, sharp and insistent.
When I force my eyes open, he’s already watching me.
And I know he’s cataloguing every reaction, every tell, committing to memory exactly how I fall apart for him.
“That’s it, baby. Eyes on me while I make your cunt weep. Be a good girl and come all over your stepbrother's hand.”
It’s the combination of the taboo of what we’re doing and his sinfully good touch that sends me over the edge. Before I can stop myself, I’m fisting his hair and dragging his mouth down to mine, desperate to taste my name on his lips, to drink it in as he moans it into my mouth.
“I need to fuck you, baby. Please tell me I can,” he begs, voice frayed with need, each word trembling and the desperation in his voice makes my pulse spike.
“God, yes, I thought you’d never ask. Also…” I bite my lip, tilting my head up to meet his gaze, heart hammering. “I’m on the pill.”
His eyes darken, a growl rumbling in his chest. “Fuck… are you trying to kill me?”
He cups the back of my head, lowering me onto my back, his other hand sliding between us to free himself.
He pauses for a heartbeat, just above me, and the world seems to shrink until it’s only us.
Then in one swift, sure motion, he lines himself up, the blunt head of him pressing against me until my whole world narrows to that single point of contact.
A hiss escapes him when he feels how wet I am.
“So ready for me,” he mutters, hands tightening on my hips. He pauses—just a heartbeat, one last tremor of restraint—then pushes inside, and everything else falls away. Nothing has ever felt like this; nothing ever will.
The sound I make is embarrassingly needy, but I can’t help it. He fills me, stretches me, and it’s overwhelming in the best possible way. His jaw is tight, eyes squeezed shut like he’s fighting to stay in control.
“Fuck,” he grits out. “You feel… Christ, Lily.”
He starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust pulling a moan from my throat. His hands slide back up to frame my face, his forehead resting against mine like he needs the contact as much as I do.
“I’m not letting you go after this,” he vows, voice low and wrecked.
“Good,” I breathe.
Then his mouth is on mine again, his thrusts harder now, faster, like something in him has finally snapped and there’s no putting it back together.
The bed creaks beneath us, the air thick with our ragged breathing and the quiet, desperate sounds I can’t hold back.
He shifts, angling deeper as he collars my throat again, and pleasure bursts through me so sharply I gasp his name like a prayer.
“Say it again,” he demands.
When I do, he groans like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. We move together, faster, harder, until I come again—nails scratching down his back—and this time he comes with me, buried deep, holding me so tightly I can feel the beat of his heart against mine as his cock throbs inside my pussy.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. His face is buried in my neck, breath hot and uneven, his arms trembling where he’s still braced over me.
When he finally pulls back to look at me, his expression is a mix of hunger, disbelief, and something softer, something dangerous.
“Now do you get it?”
I nod, still catching my breath. “Yeah. I get it.”