4. Kostya #2
"Maybe." Her breath hitches. "Maybe I like being punished."
The words hit like a fist to the gut. I stare at her. At those green eyes, wide and wanting. At that mouth, soft and pink and begging to be kissed. At the flush creeping up her throat.
"You don't know what you're asking for."
"Yes, I do."
"You just fucked my brother."
"So?"
"So you should be sore. Tired. Satisfied."
"I'm not."
"Wren—"
"Kiss me."
I do.
It's not gentle. Not soft. I take her mouth the way I've been wanting to since she walked into this house — hard and deep and claiming.
She gasps against my lips, opens for me, lets me in.
Her hands come up, fist in my shirt. I grip her waist, haul her onto my lap.
She straddles me, all soft curves and bare thighs, and I groan into her mouth.
"Kostya—"
"Shut up." I kiss her again. Bite her bottom lip. Soothe it with my tongue. "You want this? You want me to fuck you after Lev just had you?"
"Yes."
"Say it again."
"Yes. I want you to fuck me."
I grab the hem of her shirt and yank it over her head in one rough motion. The fabric whispers against her skin before it’s gone, and there she is—bare from the waist up, those small, perfect tits rising and falling with every shallow breath.
Her nipples are tight little pink peaks, already begging for my mouth, and the cool air off the lake drifting through the open window makes them pebble even harder. I palm one, squeezing the soft, warm weight until she whimpers, the sound high and needy and shooting straight to my cock.
“You’re perfect,” I say, the words ripping out before I can stop them—rough, raw, too fucking true. I didn’t mean to hand her that, didn’t mean to let her hear how badly I’ve been starving for every inch of her, but there it is, hanging between us like smoke.
Her green eyes flutter, dazed. “Kostya?—”
“Did he make you come?”
“Yes.” The word trembles on her tongue.
“How many times?”
“Twice.” She’s panting now, chest heaving, that faint flush crawling down her throat and across the tops of her breasts like wildfire.
Not enough. Not nearly. I thumb her nipple, rolling the stiff bud until her back arches hard into my hand, a desperate little bow that presses her slick cunt tighter against the bulge in my jeans.
The heat of her soaks straight through the denim, scorching me.
My cock throbs, heavy and leaking, trapped and furious.
“I’m gonna make you come three times, kotyonok.
Minimum. Maybe four if you keep looking at me like that. ”
She grinds down, rolling those hips in a filthy circle that drags her bare, dripping pussy along my trapped length.
The friction is torture—wet, scalding, obscene.
I can smell her, sharp and sweet and female, that musky arousal cutting through the pine-and-woodsmoke air of the lake house like a drug.
It makes my mouth water. Makes my brain short-circuit.
“Please—” The word breaks on a gasp.
“Please what?” My voice is gravel.
“Touch me.”
“Where?” I need to hear her say it, need the filthy little confession to burn itself into my skull.
“Everywhere.” Her voice cracks. “God, Kostya, just—everywhere.”
I slide my hand between her spread thighs.
No panties. Just bare, swollen, silky heat that coats my fingers instantly.
She’s drenched, pussy lips puffy and slick, clit a hard little pearl under my thumb.
I groan low in my chest, the sound ripped out of me.
“Fuck, Wren. You’re soaked. Dripping all over my hand like a needy little slut. ”
“Your fault,” she shoots back, but it’s breathless, shaky, and the bratty tone only makes me harder.
I push two thick fingers inside her without warning.
Her walls clamp down instantly—hot, fluttering, so tight it’s almost painful.
She cries out, sharp and broken, nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt hard enough to sting.
The bite of pain only sharpens everything else.
I pump slowly, deliberately, curling my fingers until I find that spongy spot that makes her thighs quake around my wrist. Her juices run down my hand, obscene wet sounds filling the quiet room every time I thrust.
“Feel good?” I growl against her ear, inhaling the clean scent of her hair mixed with the raw musk of sex.
“Yes—oh god—yes—” Her head falls back, exposing the long line of her throat. I want to bite it. Mark it. Own it.
“That’s it. Ride my hand, kotyonok. Show me how bad you want my cock after Lev’s already been balls-deep in this greedy pussy.”
She does—rocking frantically, hips stuttering, chasing every stroke.
Her mouth drops open on these desperate, gasping moans that make my balls draw up tight.
I add a third finger, stretching her wider, feeling her walls flutter and grip like she’s trying to pull me deeper.
She’s so wet the sounds are filthy, loud, echoing off the timber beams. My cock aches so violently I can barely think past the need to bury myself inside her and never come out.
“Kostya—I’m?—”
“Not yet.” I rip my fingers free. She whines, high and pathetic, clenching around nothing. The emptiness makes her shake.
I stand, lifting her, her bare tits pressed against my chest, nipples dragging over fabric with every step.
The couch leather creaks under us as I lay her down, yank her thighs wide apart, and just stare.
Her pussy is flushed dark pink, glistening, lips spread and fluttering, clit throbbing visibly.
A thick bead of her cream slides down toward her ass. Mine. All fucking mine.
“Beautiful,” I rasp, voice wrecked. Inside my head the thought loops darker, filthier: Look at that used, dripping cunt. Still hungry. Still mine to wreck.
"Please—"
"You want my cock, little stepsister?"
Her eyes snap to mine. Heat flares between us, dark and taboo and so fucking good. "Yes."
"Say it."
"I want my stepbrother's cock."
I unbuckle my belt. Shove my jeans and boxers down. My cock springs free, thick and leaking. She stares at it, licks her lips.
"Sit up."
She does. I grip her hips, position her on my lap. The head of my cock nudges her entrance. She's trembling. I hold her gaze.
"You sure about this?"
"Yes."
"Because once I'm inside you, I'm not stopping."
"Good."
I pull her down onto me, slow and merciless, watching every inch of my thick cock disappear into that greedy, fluttering cunt.
She's so impossibly tight the pressure punches the air from my lungs—white-hot stars exploding behind my eyes, a low, guttural groan ripping out of my throat before I can stop it.
Her slick heat envelops me like liquid velvet, walls rippling and squeezing with every shallow breath she takes, her cream already coating my shaft, dripping down to slick my balls.
The wet sound of her stretching around me fills the room, mixing with the crackle of the dying fire and the distant slap of lake water against the dock outside.
She gasps sharply, a broken little sound that goes straight to my dick, and her nails dig into my shoulders like she's trying to anchor herself to the earth. The bright sting of it grounds me, cuts through the haze—real. She's real. This fucked-up, perfect heat between us is real.
Mine. My little stepsister's cunt swallowing every inch like she was built for it.
"Move," I rasp, the word scraping out raw.
She obeys, rolling her hips in tentative circles at first, then finding a rhythm that makes her breath hitch.
I clamp my hands around her narrow waist, fingers sinking into soft flesh, guiding her, forcing her to take me deeper until I'm buried to the hilt and her clit grinds against my pelvis with every downstroke.
The wet, filthy sounds of her soaked pussy working over me echo louder now—obscene squelches that should shame us both but only make my blood run hotter. She's burning around me, silky and pulsing, like her body’s trying to milk me dry before I've even started.
"That's it, kotyonok," I growl against her throat, inhaling the sweet-salt scent of her sweat and sex. "Ride your stepbrother's cock like the filthy little thing you are."
A desperate moan tears from her lips. She picks up speed, tits bouncing heavily with every frantic movement, nipples tight and flushed.
I lean in, the coarse stubble on my jaw scraping her soft skin, and capture one peaked nipple between my teeth.
I suck hard, tongue lashing the sensitive bud, tasting the faint salt of her skin while her cries spike higher.
Her cunt clamps down viciously around me in response, fluttering wildly, and the sudden vise of it drags a hiss from my teeth.
"Kostya—"
"You like that?" I mutter around her breast, voice wrecked and mean. "Like being a dirty little stepsister for me? Lev just stretched this greedy hole and now you're bouncing on my dick like you can't get enough. What the fuck does that make you?"
"Yours," she pants, the word punching straight through my ribs and lodging somewhere dangerous.
It ignites something feral in my chest—possessive, dark, starving.
I grip her waist harder and thrust up to meet her descent, slamming into her so deep I feel her cervix kiss the head of my cock.
She scratches down my chest in long, vicious drags, nails raking over ink and skin, drawing thin lines of blood that burn like fire.
The sharp pain blooms into pleasure so intense my groan vibrates through both of us.
"Harder," I demand, teeth gritted.
She obeys instantly, digging those nails in deeper, breaking skin, the metallic tang of blood faint in the air between us. I hiss at the fresh sting, hips bucking up violently, and she gasps, her walls spasming greedily around my girth.
"You won't break me," she breathes, voice hoarse and defiant even while she's impaled on me.
"No?" The challenge coils hot in my gut. "No?"
"No."
I flip her without warning, the couch leather sticking to her sweat-slick back as I pin her beneath my much larger frame. Her thighs fall open wide around my hips. I drive into her in one brutal thrust, the force making the heavy furniture creak and groan beneath us like it's protesting.
She screams—raw, throaty, perfect—and her legs lock tight around my waist, heels digging into my ass as if she wants me even deeper.
The new angle lets me pound into her without mercy, hips snapping forward with wet, heavy slaps of skin on skin.
Each thrust forces more of her cream to leak out around my cock, the sharp scent of her arousal thick enough to taste.
I lean down, lips brushing the shell of her ear, my stubble rasping her cheek. "This what you wanted, kotyonok? This what that needy little cunt needed—your stepbrother wrecking you after Lev filled you up?"
"Yes—yes—Kostya—" Her voice cracks on my name, broken and dripping with lust, her green eyes glassy and wild.
"Come for me," I snarl, grinding my pelvis against her swollen clit with every savage stroke. "Come all over your stepbrother's cock like the dirty girl you are."
She shatters beneath me with a strangled cry, her entire body seizing up. Her pussy clamps down so violently it borders on pain, rhythmic spasms milking me in waves so strong I can barely move.
The wet heat of her release floods around my shaft, soaking us both.
I fuck her through every pulse, hips stuttering, chasing the edge until it crashes over me—violent, blinding, ripping a guttural roar from my chest. My balls draw up tight, cock throbbing as I empty myself inside her in thick, endless spurts, flooding her spasming cunt until it overflows and leaks out between us.
We stay locked together, both of us panting hard, the air heavy with the musk of sweat, sex, and blood from the scratches on my chest. Her nails are still buried deep in my pecs, stinging with every shift of her fingers.
I don't tell her to move them. I like the burn.
Like the raw proof that she was here, that this happened, that she's marked me just like I've ruined her.
Whatever happens tomorrow—whatever Lev or Maxim or the whole damn world throws at us—I'm not letting her go.