10. Ryker
RYKER
I step off the plane and the first full breath of home air hits me like a drug.
Four months and three weeks overseas, and all I can think about is her.
Lena. Her soft body, the sweet taste of her milk, the way she moans my name when I’m buried inside her.
The noise of the airport terminal, the grinding of the luggage carousels, and the chatter of civilians all blur into background static.
My focus is singular, locked onto the memory of her touch.
I don’t even stop at the house first. I drive straight to my parents’ place, heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped animal. The steering wheel of my truck feels familiar, but my mind is miles away, navigating the distance between my duty and my desire.
The second I walk through the door Beth lights up and hugs me, throwing her arms around my neck, but my eyes are already scanning the room for Lena.
She’s standing in the kitchen doorway holding a dish towel, frozen when she sees me.
Her eyes go wide, the color draining from her cheeks.
She looks guilty as hell, caught in the headlights of my sudden return.
“Ryker,” she breathes.
I barely greet my parents, giving them some quick, practiced bullshit about being exhausted from travel and needing to talk to Lena about the house maintenance.
My voice sounds clipped, carrying the harsh edge of the base I just left.
Before anyone can ask questions or dig deeper into my behavior, I grab her small wrist, her skin burning against my palm, and pull her outside to my truck.
The drive back to my place is silent and entirely charged with a suffocating tension.
The air in the cab is thick, heavy with the unsaid words of the past five months.
Her hand rests on my thigh the whole way, trembling against the rough denim of my jeans, sending jolts of heat straight to my groin.
The second we’re inside my house and the heavy deadbolt locks behind us, the reality of being alone hits us both.
I push her against the wall in the hallway, my massive frame pinning her in place, desperate to consume her.
But she stops me, placing her small palms flat against my chest, resisting my weight.
“Ryker… we need to talk,” she says quietly. Her voice is shaking, tears threatening to spill from her wide hazel eyes. “This has to stop. All of it.”
I stare down at her, my blood already running hot, the denial slicing through my chest. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
She won’t look me in the eyes, her gaze dropping to the collar of my shirt.
“I’ve been thinking while you were gone.
Your mom keeps talking about how good we are for each other as siblings, how proud she is of us.
Every time she says it I feel sick. Like I’m ruining you.
Like I’m going to destroy your life and everything you worked for.
I tried to move on, Ryker. I even went out with someone else for coffee.
Just once. To see if I could feel normal again. ”
The words land like a grenade in the quiet hallway. My vision tunnels, the anger flashing white-hot behind my eyes. The thought of another man looking at her, touching her, makes my inner animal roar. I step closer, towering over her until she is completely shadowed by my size.
“Who?” I demand, my jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps.
She swallows hard, her throat moving rhythmically. “It doesn’t matter. He kissed my cheek at the car and I felt nothing but guilt. Because all I could think about was you. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't erase you.”
That’s all I need to hear. The remaining walls of my discipline shatter into dust.
I grab her waist and kiss her hard, months of pent-up hunger and territorial rage pouring out into her mouth.
She melts into me instantly, her resistance evaporating as her fingers grip my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear back to the desert.
I lift her easily, her thighs locking around my hips, and carry her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us with a loud slam.
I lay her down on the center of the bed and peel her clothes off slowly, almost reverently, letting the dim afternoon light wash over her skin.
Her breasts spill out of her bra, heavy and full from the anxiety of my return, already leaking white drops.
Milk runs down the soft curves of her chest in thin, warm trails, contrasting against her pale skin.
I groan at the sight, my mouth watering as the primal need takes over.
I latch onto one swollen nipple, sucking deep and slow, pulling the warm fluid into my throat.
Warm milk floods my mouth, sweet, creamy, and completely addictive.
She arches off the mattress with a broken moan, her hands flying to the back of my head to hold me tight against her flesh.
“Ryker… I missed this so much,” she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion.
I take my time, deliberately controlling my pace despite the pressure in my pants.
I switch between her breasts, drinking gently while my hands explore every inch of her body I’ve been dreaming about during those long desert patrols.
She’s trembling beneath me, her thighs pressing together as her core slicks over, completely soaked for me.
I kiss my way down her stomach, tasting the stray drops of milk on her ribs, before spreading her legs wide and burying my face between them.
She tastes even better than I remembered, sweeter and more concentrated.
I lick and suck her clit slowly, savoring every gasp and whimper that leaves her lips, pushing two thick fingers deep into her tight heat to stretch her open.
She comes quickly the first time, her thighs shaking violently around my head, crying my name like a prayer as her pussy pulses against my tongue.
I don’t stop. I keep licking her through the climax, gentler now, drawing out every last tremor until she’s a whimpering, oversensitive mess on the sheets.
When I finally move up her body, she’s looking at me with glassy eyes full of tears.
I kiss them away, then kiss her mouth, letting her taste her own sweetness on my tongue.
I line myself up and push inside her slowly, inch by inch, giving her tight walls time to accept the thickness of my shaft.
I go until I’m buried to the hilt, our hips locking together.
We both groan at the intense feeling of completeness. She’s still so incredibly tight, gripping me like she never wants to let go, her internal muscles pulsing around me in rhythmic waves.
We move together like that, slow and deep, our foreheads pressed together and our eyes locked in the dim room.
There is no rushing, no pounding, just long, rolling thrusts while I kiss her, taste her milk, and whisper how much I missed her.
I tell her how her photos kept me sane in the sand, how she’s mine, and how I’m never letting her go again, regardless of the consequences.
She comes a second time with a soft, shuddering cry, her arms wrapped tight around my neck as she clamps down on my cock.
I follow right after, the pleasure too intense to fight.
I thrust deep one last time, burying myself to the bone, and come hard inside her, filling her with months of pent-up need.
We stay locked together afterward, breathing each other in, my cock still inside her as I stroke her back in slow, soothing circles.
For a while it feels perfect. Peaceful. Like everything we’ve risked, our entire family dynamic, was worth it just to feel this connection.
But reality always creeps back in the silence. Lena traces one of my shoulder tattoos with her fingertip, her voice sounding small and fragile in the quiet room.
“Your mom… she kept talking about how good we are as brother and sister. How proud she is of our bond. Every word felt like a knife. I hate lying to her, Ryker. I hate what this secrecy is doing to us.”
I hold her tighter, pulling the blanket over our sticky bodies. “I know. I hate it too. But I can’t stop wanting you, Lena. You’re not just my stepsister anymore. You’re everything.”
She buries her face in my neck, her warm breath ticking my skin. “I’m scared. What if she finds out? What if it ruins your career? Your family? Your honor?”
I don’t have easy answers for her. The guilt is real now, sharper and more defined after months away from the bubble of this house. But so is the need, heavy and undeniable. I kiss the top of her head and pull her closer into my chest. “I’ll protect us. No matter what it costs.”
Later that night we shower together, the steam clearing the heavy scent of sex from the air.
I wash her gently, using the soap to massage her breasts to relieve the remaining pressure, drinking a little more from her under the warm water while she whimpers softly against the tile.
We fuck again in the enclosure, slower this time, her back pressed against the wet tile while my hands support her thighs, my forehead pressed to hers as we move together.
It feels like making love more than fucking, and that realization scares me almost as much as it satisfies me.
The next morning we’re back at my parents’ house to pick up some things Lena left there during her stays.
The domestic setting feels dangerous now, a minefield we have to walk through.
Beth is in the kitchen when we arrive, the smell of coffee filling the air.
She hugs me again, but there’s something different in her eyes now, a lingering look, a slight hesitation that wasn't there yesterday.
“You two were gone a long time last night,” she says lightly, pouring water into a mug, but her tone carries a distinct weight. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer, keeping my voice steady and my posture relaxed, using my military training to mask the spike in my pulse. “Just catching up.”
Beth nods, but her gaze flicks between us with a sharp intelligence.
She notices the details I tried to hide.
She sees the way Lena stands a little too close to me, leaning into my space.
She tracks the way my hand accidentally brushes Lena’s lower back when I think no one’s looking.
Finally, her eyes settle on the faint pink mark on Lena’s neck that her collar doesn’t quite hide.
That long, heavy, disappointed look cuts right through my chest like a blade. She suspects. Maybe she’s suspected for a while, dropping clues to see if we would stumble.
My stomach drops into a cold void. For the first time, the full weight of what we’re doing crashes down on me outside of the bedroom.
This isn’t just some forbidden fling anymore.
Lena isn’t just a girl I’m fucking to pass the time.
She’s become my everything, my peace, my sole addiction.
She is the only person who makes the constant noise in my head go quiet after an operation.
And I’m risking all of it, my career, my family, her reputation, every single time I touch her skin.
Beth finally speaks, her voice low and careful, breaking the suffocating silence. “You two be careful,” she says quietly, her eyes locking onto mine with a heavy warning. “Whatever this is… just be careful.”
She turns and walks back toward the kitchen without another word, her footsteps fading down the hall.
I stand there in the hallway for a long moment, heart pounding against my ribs.
The guilt is real. The risk is absolute.
If this ever comes out to the Navy or the rest of the family, it could destroy everything I've built. But even with all that weighing on me like lead, my resolve doesn't flicker. I already know I’m not going to stop. Lena is waiting for me in the living room, her eyes full of the same conflict and the same desperate need. She’s mine.
She needs me as badly as I need her to survive.
I’ll protect her. I’ll protect us. No matter what it costs.