7. Selena #2
He drops the unopened packet onto the floor without another word.
He pushes my thighs apart and settles between them. His pants and underwear are gone. His cock stands proud and thick, flushed dark, the head glistening. My stomach flips at the size of it, but he doesn’t give it to me yet.
Instead, he drags two fingers through my folds and presses them inside. He curls them deep and starts a steady rhythm, thumb circling my clit while his mouth stays locked on my breast, still milking me in long, deliberate pulls.
The two sensations hit at once, fast and sharp. My hips rock against his hand again, thighs starting to shake as the pleasure tightens low in my belly.
“Soren—oh God—” My voice breaks. “I’m so close?—”
He doesn’t let me fall over the edge.
Just as the climax starts to crest, he slows his fingers, easing the pressure on my clit, keeping me right there—aching, trembling, desperate—but not quite there.
“Not yet,” he murmurs. “You’re going to come on my cock, not my fingers.”
Only then does he rise over me fully.
He braces one forearm beside my head. The other hand guides the broad head of his cock to my entrance. He rubs himself through my wetness once, twice, coating himself, then looks straight into my eyes.
“This is the last time anything comes between us,” he says, voice certain. “Once I’m inside you, you’re mine. No more second thoughts. Understand?”
“I understand,” I whisper. “I want it. I want you.”
He pushes in.
The stretch is immediate and overwhelming. Thick. Unyielding. A sharp, stinging burn blooms where he breaches me. I gasp and clutch at his shoulders. He stills, buried only halfway, breathing hard on my temple.
“Breathe for me,” he murmurs. “Just take it.”
“I’m trying,” I manage, voice shaky. “You’re… so big. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He waits until the worst of the burn softens, then presses deeper in slow, controlled inches. Every push forces me to open around him. The fullness is almost too much—pressure and heat and the impossible knowledge that my stepbrother is claiming the one place no one else has ever been.
When his hips finally meet mine, he is fully seated. I feel every thick inch of him pulsing inside me. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, not only from the stretch, but from how completely he fills me.
He stays still, giving me time, one hand stroking my hair back from my face.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he says. “Taking your stepbrother’s cock for the first time like you were made for it.”
I breathe. “Soren… I love the way you feel inside me.”
He kisses me in a deep and possessive manner and starts to move.
The first slow drag out makes me whimper. The push back in steals the sound.
He sets a steady, deliberate rhythm, hips rolling deep, each thrust grinding against places inside me that have never been touched.
Milk leaks steadily from my breasts with every movement, soaking both our chests.
The wet, filthy sounds of it mix with the soft slap of skin and the broken noises I can’t hold back.
“Fuck, yes,” he growls low into my ear. “Feel how deep I am. Feel how I stretch this tight little virgin cunt.”
“I feel it,” I answer, voice breaking on a moan. “You’re so deep… don’t stop. Please keep going.”
His hand slides between us and finds my clit, circling in firm, knowing strokes timed to every thrust. The fullness and friction push me higher until the next orgasm crashes through me without warning.
My body clamps down hard around him. Milk sprays across his chest. I cry out on his shoulder, shaking.
“Soren—I love you—” The words spill out before I can stop them, raw and honest in the middle of the climax.
He doesn’t slow.
He fucks me through it, deeper now, harder, the controlled restraint starting to fray. One of his hands pins my wrist above my head. The other grips my hip hard enough to bruise, holding me exactly where he wants me while he drives into me again and again.
“I’m going to fill you,” he says, voice rough with strain. “I’m going to come so far into this perfect little cunt that you’ll still feel me tomorrow, and I’m going to keep breeding you until my cum runs down your thighs every time you try to walk away from me.”
The words hit like a second climax. My body clenches around him again, helpless. He thrusts once more and buries himself to the hilt as he comes.
I feel it.
Hot, thick pulses flooding me, painting my insides, claiming me in the most final way possible. He stays locked deep, grinding through every spurt, mouth open for my neck, breathing my name like a vow.
When the last aftershock finally fades he doesn’t pull out.
He stays inside me, heavy and warm, and gathers me onto his chest like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
One hand strokes slowly up and down my spine.
The other cups the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair.
Milk still leaks quietly between us, mixing with the mess of our bodies, but neither of us moves to clean it.
I press my face into the curve of his neck and breathe him in.
For the first time since this started, the fear is quiet. All that’s left is the steady beat of his heart and the way his arms tighten every time I shift even a little. I can still feel him pulsing softly inside me, still buried deep, like he has no intention of leaving.
We stay like that for a long time. No talking. Just breathing. His hand keeps moving in slow, soothing paths along my back. He presses a quiet kiss to my hair or my temple, as if he needs the contact to prove this is real.
Soren’s voice whispers low against my hair, quieter than I have ever heard it.
“You’re mine now. Fully.”
I tilt my face up and stare into his two beautiful eyes.
My voice comes out soft but steady. “I love you, Soren.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he brushes a damp strand of hair from my cheek, thumb lingering on my skin like he’s memorizing the shape of me.
For a long second something vulnerable flickers across his face—something raw and unguarded that he almost never lets anyone see.
Then he leans in and kisses me. Slow. Deep. Different from every kiss that came before it.
“I fucking love you too,” he says against my mouth, the words low and certain. “More than I should. More than I ever planned to.”
He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed for a moment, just breathing with me. I can feel the slight tremor in his hand where it still cups the back of my head.
“You know, I’ve never wanted to stay anywhere before,” he admits quietly. “Not in this house. Not in any city. Not with anyone. I always kept one foot out the door because it felt safer that way. But I want to stay right here. With you. Only you.”
I slide my arms tighter around him and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He opens his eyes, meets mine, and the last of the distance between us disappears.
“We’re never going back.”