24
ELLIE
Micky comes to me first, waking me with soft kisses on the back of my neck and his big warm hand resting against my belly. He makes a gentle shushing sound in my ear when I stir, tugging me back against the hard bar of his cock.
Giving into him is foolish.
The risk that I bowed to the first time we were together now feels magnified by a thousand. But I can’t resist the slow stroke of his finger over my clit or the way he slides it inside me, testing how wet I am. He’s so quick at rolling on a condom, and by the time he pushes into me from behind, I’m slick and open and ready. Biting my lip is the only way I can keep from crying out. It’s so hot beneath the covers, but neither of us throws them off for fear of being naked and exposed. My mind goes to the possibility of being discovered by his father or my mother and the small chance I would be able to hide him beneath my comforter.
Stupid risks.
Amazing sex.
We rock together as though we’ve been dancing this way for years. Everything between us is soft and fluid, urgent and beautiful.
I pull his hand to my face and take his thumb into my mouth, missing the multiple penetrations I’ve become used to so quickly. He realizes what I need immediately, sliding his other thumb between the cheeks of my ass and pushing against my taint with an alternating rhythm to his thrusts.
“Micky,” I whisper softly against his thumb. “Seb, Colby.” I’m used to all their names tumbling from my mouth before I come, and tonight is no different.
When I surrender to the orgasm, it’s liquid and beautiful, slick, and black as oil, bright as the morning sun. Clenching around Micky, I want to draw him in so that our bodies never part.
A tear leaks from the corner of my eye, trickling over my temple and into my messy hair. I’m grateful that in the dark, Micky can’t see how emotional I am.
He comes so quietly; I wouldn’t have known, but for the swelling and pulsing of his cock. He’s quick to pull out and clean up, kissing my neck and across the back of my shoulders.
I love you , dances in my mind but never makes it to my tongue because even just the fleeting thought makes me seize with fear.
Love isn’t easy. It isn’t kind. It doesn’t care what mess it makes after. It’s selfish and hurtful, filled with betrayal and loss. I don’t want it to split my heart open like an overripe fruit.
“I’m going to go,” Micky whispers, “just in case.”
“Okay,” I say softly. “Night.”
One last lingering kiss before he leaves.
Three seconds of hesitation while he scans my face, looking for answers I’m not ready to provide, not sure enough to declare the truth for himself.
I love you.
It’s in the tentative graze of his fingers over my cheek. It’s in the softness of his green eyes which rest on me in the darkness.
He leaves and takes a piece of my heart with him.
Ten minutes pass, and I’m still awake when my door creaks again.
I don’t turn to find out which of the brothers is calling on me next, but I know as soon as Colby grips my hip with his big, demanding hand that it’s him.
“Did Micky warm you up?” he asks, letting his hand drift over my belly and breasts, seeking all the softness that I’ve come to realize he likes so much.
“Yes,” I breathe, grateful that he’s going to focus on the physical.
“Is your pussy wet?”
Oh god, the rumble of his voice and the warmth of his breath against my ear send a static rush of nerves up my neck and over my scalp.
“So wet.” Just the way he likes it.
“That’s good.” Colby makes a low hum, like a cat purring with contentment, when he discovers it for himself. Thick fingers find out just how messy I am between my thighs. Clever fingers sheath his cock in record time. When he tries to turn me, I push my ass into him, hoping my veiled demand will be enough. I know I couldn’t look at him without crying.
The first thrust of his huge cock burns despite how lubricated I am, but I’ve grown used to the feeling now. There’s an element of violation that comes with fucking men who are this hung. An aspect that I know I won’t ever be able to do without.
Colby rolls over me so that my body is almost face down, and his big, muscular frame spreads out on top of me. It’s hard to breathe this way, but it’s fine. The more of his power I feel, the less I remember all the reasons we shouldn’t be acting this way.
“You feel so good,” he says, nipping the soft flesh between my neck and shoulder with his teeth and then using his tongue to soothe.
“You’re so big,” I say, gaining a growl in response.
With one hand, Colby grips my hair, tugging my face from the pillow. My scalp burns, and so do my cheeks, as he shoves his thumb into my mouth. I don’t suck it as I did with Micky because that isn’t what Colby wants. When I bite down, he shoves it deeper, pressing down the back of my tongue, and I know he remembers what it feels like when I swallow against the head of his cock. Maybe he’s even remembering how it looks to watch his brothers pushing their cocks between my lips.
Once last week, they all stood in front of me, and I kneeled, moving between them, letting them use my mouth until I was a mess of their cum, and they were staring down at me, wide-eyed, as though they were struggling to reconcile the woman at their feet with the stepsister they’d practically grown up with.
Tonight, I come just from the stretch of Colby’s cock and the thoughts that swell and travel like flames through my mind, biting down on his thumb and twitching against him, my body more out of control than it’s ever been. And he follows, tightening his grip on my hair, seizing like lightning has struck him dead.
It’s less about pleasure and more about exorcising our demons. I know Colby is as twisted up inside about this as me. I know the guilt about our lying to our parents is eating at him more than the others. It’s because he doesn’t want to be a disappointment. I see that part of him clearly because I’m exactly the same. Twisted up by expectations. Racked with self-reproach.
When we’ve both returned to our senses, Colby once again tries to roll me to my back, but I resist.
He pauses for a few moments as though there are questions on the tip of his tongue, but unlike his usually demanding self, he resists asking.
Does he suspect he won’t like the answers? Probably.
Instead, he does what Micky did, kissing my neck, telling me I’m beautiful, reminding me that what we have is worth the risk, and trying to convince himself.
And I don’t disagree.
But I don’t agree either.
I love you , I think, but the words die in the warm cavern of my mouth, snuffed out by guilt and dread of what it will feel like to lose him.
Seb is the last to find his way to my room. I wonder if they drew straws or flipped a coin to decide the order. Have they worked out a schedule with times so that they don’t cross paths, or is it their intention to come to me all at once sometimes? What would that look like, three huge men tiptoeing across the hall, sneaking into their stepsister’s room?
It would look guilty. That’s what it would look like.
Seb doesn’t slide between my sheets in the way the others did. He walks around to the side of the bed I’m pretending to sleep on and kneels in front of me. His fingers graze my cheek, playing with my curls. His mouth whispers my name.
“Ellie, I know you’re awake,” he says.
I open my eyes slowly, finding him smiling at me in the dark.
“You know how I know?” he asks. “Because you breathe differently when you’re really asleep.”
I smile fleetingly. “Have you been perving over me while I’ve been unconscious?”
“Definitely,” he says. “You have no idea how sexy you look with your naked body splayed across my sheets and your mouth wide open.” Chuckling, he grabs my hand when I try to swat his shoulder. The weight of feelings that have had me close to tears all night lift with his smile.
“I do not sleep with my mouth open,” I whisper.
“Errr…you do,” he grins, “but don’t worry. I’ve got something meaty to put in that mouth.”
“Gross.” I screw up my nose, the image of his cock replaced with a thick red salami, and Seb laughs silently.
“That’s not what you were saying the other day.” He’s got me there. “So, have my brothers worn you out, or do you still have some sexy-time energy left for me?”
“Definitely worn out,” I say, but I lift the covers and scoot back across the sheets.
Seb kisses me deeply, and I surrender to everything he wants to do because it feels so right, even in all its wrongness. He spends time kissing across my clavicle, then lower, taking each nipple into his mouth and biting just perfectly to make me squirm. He sucks, kneading my breasts in a way that makes it seem like he seeks comfort in them as well as pleasure. Between my legs, my sensitized clit swells, ready for more.
My traitorous body that never reached a climax with anyone before Colby, Micky, and Seb, now stirs for their touch like an addict. Even when I should be spent, I’m not.
When Seb fucks me, he hooks his arm beneath my neck and holds me close to his chest. He whispers in my ear, telling me how good I make him feel. I grip his back, using my fingers to urge his thrusts, angling my hips to seek the perfect friction.
It feels like forever and no time at all, as though the clock in my room is spinning back and forth. My whole being is becoming confused by the pull and push of the universe and Sebastian.
I keep my eyes closed to the growing light in the room and the knowledge that it’s nearly morning. I let Seb find his release inside me, and I shudder my own in his arms.
“You need to go,” I tell him when I’m sure he has regained enough strength to walk. Seb makes a soft groaning sound, but he draws away, pressing a butterfly kiss to the end of my nose.
“One day, we won’t have to do this,” he whispers. “Just remember that, Ellie. There will come a time when we will be free to be with each other without worrying about what anyone else thinks.”
I nod, but my heart doubts it all.
Because where my stepbrothers are hopeful, I’m a jaded realist.
I love you , bubbles inside me for Seb too. But what’s the point of admitting it when I know my mom and their dad, and there will be no overcoming the fallout that would occur if we ever gave light to our secrets.
When Seb closes the door, I curl into my mattress, burying my face into the pillow. I try to find sleep, but there are too many thoughts buzzing around in my mind, too many reasons for slumber to remain a stranger.
After a while, I sit up to sip some water and feel a strange hollowness in my stomach. It’s more than hunger. More than sadness. The water sits, cool and present beneath my ribs. Not quite right. My mouth fills with saliva, but I swallow it and lay back down, determined not to allow all of my anxieties about our situation to take control.
I sleep for an hour before my alarm rings, and when I sit up to switch it off, my stomach roils, but this time, I have to run for the bathroom.