8. Adam #2
When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen and her eyes are dark, and the green dress is wrinkled where my hands have been. She looks thoroughly kissed, thoroughly claimed, and something primitive and satisfied settles in my chest at the sight.
"This party's boring," I say, my thumb brushing across her lower lip. "How about we go have our own?"
She stares at me for a heartbeat, then two, and I watch her make a decision that changes everything. The careful, polite girl who's been navigating family gatherings disappears, replaced by the woman who told me she didn't want me to keep my hands to myself.
"I thought you'd never ask."
I take her hand—not hidden, not subtle, her fingers laced through mine where anyone who looks can see.
If someone notices us walking back inside, if the photographer catches us, if my mother or Donald or any of their perfectly pressed guests want to ask questions about why I'm leading my stepsister away from the party—let them.
I'm done hiding what I want. And what I want is walking beside me in green silk, her hand warm in mine, her pulse racing under my thumb.
The party swirls around us as we cross the great room, but none of it matters.
Not the conversations, not the cameras, not the performance of family harmony that brought us here.
All that matters is the hallway ahead of us, the stairs leading to the second floor, and the bedroom door that's going to close behind us in about thirty seconds.
The rest of the world can wait.
The door to Chloe’s room clicks shut behind us, and the sound barely registers before I’m on her.
My mouth crashes into hers, hard enough that her back hits the wood with a soft thud. The small sound she makes in the back of her throat drives me past reason. I grab her ass, lift, and she wraps her legs around my waist without hesitation.
The bed is ten feet away. I carry her there in four strides, never breaking the kiss. Her fingers twist in my hair, pulling just hard enough to sting. Good. I want marks. I want evidence that this is real and not another night spent pretending she’s nothing but my stepsister.
I drop her onto the mattress. The silk rides up her thighs, and I don’t waste time. My hands find the zipper at her side, yank it down.
Fabric whispers as the dress peels away from her skin. She lifts her hips to help, eyes locked on mine the entire time. No fear. No hesitation. Just hunger that mirrors the fire chewing through my veins.
Dress gone. Shoes next—strappy things that hit the floor with twin thuds. Then the black lace panties, soaked through. I hook my fingers in the waistband and drag them down her legs, slow enough to watch her thighs tremble.
She lies there completely bare, skin flushed, black hair spilling across white sheets. Curves for days. Full breasts, small waist, hips that make my palms itch. I’ve imagined this exact view a thousand times in the dark. Reality is better.
“Fuck, Chloe.” My voice comes out rough. “Look at you.”
Her green eyes spark. “Stop staring and touch me.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I crawl over her, caging her body with mine, and kiss her again—deeper, filthier. My mouth moves to her throat, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise.
She arches, nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt. I trail lower, tongue flicking over her collarbone, then down to one perfect tit. I take the nipple into my mouth, sucking hard while my hand finds the other, rolling the peak between thumb and forefinger.
A sharp gasp escapes her. “Adam?—”
I switch sides, giving the other nipple the same treatment, teeth grazing just enough to make her hips jerk up off the bed.
She’s wet already. I can smell it. Sweet, musky, all for me.
I step back long enough to kick off my shoes. Belt buckle clinks. I shove my dress pants and boxers down in one motion, freeing my cock.
It springs up, thick and heavy, veins standing out. Pre-cum beads at the tip. I don’t give her time to overthink.
Grabbing her ankles, I spread her legs wide, lifting them until her knees bend toward her shoulders. She’s completely open, pink and glistening. My cock finds her entrance on instinct—no hand needed.
The head nudges inside, and I thrust forward in one smooth stroke.
Tight. So fucking tight.
A strangled cry tears from her throat. Her walls clamp around me like a fist.
I don’t go slow. Can’t. I fuck her like an animal—deep, brutal strokes that make the bed slam against the wall. Her tits bounce with every thrust. Her mouth falls open on silent gasps.
“God—Adam—yes?—”
Sweat beads on my forehead. My tattoos flex as I grip her ankles tighter, using them as leverage to drive deeper. The wet slap of skin fills the room.
Her pussy flutters around me, already close. I angle my hips, hitting that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back.
The door opens.
I don’t stop. My head snaps toward the sound, but my hips keep pounding.
Chris and Harry step inside, closing the door behind them with soft clicks. Chris’s hair catches the low lamp light. Harry’s massive frame fills the doorway for a second before he leans against the wall, arms crossed, dark blue eyes fixed on where I’m buried inside her.
They don’t look surprised. They look like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment.
Chloe’s gaze finds them. Her cheeks flush deeper, but instead of closing her legs or pushing me away, something shifts in her expression. Heat. Acceptance.
She pushes up on her elbows, still taking every inch of me, and meets their stares without flinching.
Then she moves.
I pull out long enough for her to roll over and push up onto all fours. The position presents her ass perfectly—round, heart-shaped, still red from where my hips slapped against her.
Her back arches like an offering. Black hair cascades over one shoulder as she looks back at me, green eyes blazing.
I don’t hesitate. I grip her hips and slam back inside her from behind. The new angle lets me go even deeper. She moans loud, the sound vibrating through her whole body.
Harry pushes off the wall. He crosses to the side of the bed, unbuckling his belt with deliberate fingers. Chris stays near the foot, watching with that slow, controlled intensity that always made me wonder how long his leash would hold before it snapped.
Chloe reaches for Harry first. She wraps her hand around his thick cock as he frees it, stroking once, twice, before leaning forward and taking him into her mouth.