2. Matt #3
"I know." I suck her nipple into my mouth, hard, and she screams. Milk floods my tongue, sweet and warm, and I swallow while I fuck her. "You're so full. So fucking perfect."
Her walls clench around me, and I groan against her skin. I'm not gonna last. Not with her tight cunt squeezing me, not with her taste in my mouth, not with the way she's falling apart beneath me.
"Matt, I'm—" She gasps, nails raking down my back. "Something's happening, I feel?—"
"You're gonna come." I pull off her nipple, milk dripping from my lips, and grip her jaw. Force her to look at me. "You're gonna come on my cock like a good girl."
Her eyes go wide, glassy with pleasure.
"Yes—"
"Say it." I slam into her harder, deeper, and she cries out. "Say you're my good stepsister"
"I'm your good stepsister." The words tumble out, desperate and raw. "I'm yours, Matt, I'm—oh God?—"
She breaks. Her whole body locks up, back arching off the counter, and she screams. Her cunt clamps down on me, pulsing and milking, and I lose it.
I roar her name and bury myself deep. My cock pulses, cum flooding her in thick, hot spurts, and she sobs through her orgasm. Her walls squeeze me, greedy, taking everything I give her.
"Fuck, Mira—" I grind into her, pumping her full, and she whimpers. "Take it. Take all of it."
"Yes—"
I collapse against her, panting, cock still twitching inside her. She's shaking, gasping, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. I kiss them away, one by one, until she calms.
"You okay?" I rasp against her temple.
She nods, slow and dazed. "Yeah. I'm—yeah."
I ease out of her, slow and careful, and she winces. My cum leaks out immediately, thick and white, dripping down onto the counter. I watch it spill from her swollen cunt, and something primal roars in my chest.
Mine. My cum. My girl.
I scoop it up with two fingers and push it back inside her. She gasps, hips jerking, and I do it again. And again. Working every drop back into her cunt until she's trembling.
"Matt—"
"Shh." I lean in and kiss her forehead. "Gotta keep it all inside. Can't waste a drop."
Her eyes flutter shut, and she melts into my touch. Completely spent.
Good.
I pull back just enough to look at her, and that's when I see it.
Blood.
Not much—just a few drops mixed with my cum, smeared on the inside of her thigh. Evidence of what I just took from her.
Her virginity.
My chest tightens. No going back now. She's mine. Completely, irrevocably mine. Stepsister or not—we're not related by blood anyway. That's what I tell myself as I stare at the proof of what we just did.
"Stay still." I grab a clean washcloth from the rack and wet it under the faucet. The water runs cold, and I wring it out before gently pressing it between her thighs.
She hisses, body jerking.
"I know." I wipe her clean, slow and careful, watching her face for signs of real pain. "You're gonna be sore for a bit."
"It's okay." Her voice comes out soft, almost shy. Different from the desperate girl who begged me to fuck her five minutes ago. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine." I toss the washcloth in the sink and open the medicine cabinet. Bottles rattle as I search, and I find what I need—aspirin. I shake two pills into my palm. "Take these."
She blinks at them, then at me. "For what?"
"Pain." I press them into her hand. "Trust me, you're gonna need them."
Her cheeks flush darker, and she nods. Pops both pills in her mouth, then leans over to cup water from the faucet with her free hand. She drinks messily, water dripping down her chin and onto her breasts, washing away the dried milk streaked across her skin.
I watch every second of it.
When she finishes, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and looks up at me. Those caramel eyes are huge, uncertain.
"What happens now?"
Good question.
I reach out and tuck a damp curl behind her ear. My hand lingers on her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek, and she leans into the touch without thinking.
"Now?" I lean in until our noses almost touch. "Now you're my girl. You got that?"
Her breath catches. "Matt?—"
"Stepsister or not, I don't care." My voice drops lower, rougher. "You're mine, Mira. And I don't share."
She stares at me for a long moment, and I see it—the exact second she accepts it. Accepts us.
"What about our parents?"
Her voice cracks on the words, and I feel her tense under my hand.
I straighten, jaw tight. "Don't care."
"Matt—"
"I mean it." I grip her chin, force her to hold my gaze. "Better they know now than later."
"No." She shakes her head, panic flashing across her face. "Not now. I'm not ready."
I study her—the fear in her eyes, the way her lip trembles—and something in my chest loosens. She's scared. Makes sense. We just crossed every line, and now reality's crashing in.
"Okay." I brush my thumb over her bottom lip. "Not now."
Her shoulders sag with relief. "Thank you."
"But Mira?" I lean in until my breath ghosts over her mouth. "Sooner or later, we're telling them. You understand?"
She nods, quick and jerky. "I know."
"Good." I kiss her forehead, gentle this time. "Because you're not getting rid of me. Ever."
She doesn't answer. Just wraps her arms around my neck and buries her face in my chest.
Mine.