6. Zachary
ZACHARY
Dawn light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom. I wake with Zoey naked in my arms, her body warm and soft against mine. She's still asleep, breathing quietly.
I look down at the sheets beneath us. Dried blood still stains the expensive fabric. Physical proof of what I took last night. Evidence that I claimed her virginity, broke through her hymen, made her bleed on my cock.
The satisfaction that courses through me borders on primal. I took her cherry. First man inside her, first cock to fuck her, first to make her come with penetration. Those firsts belong to me permanently, irrevocably. No one else will ever have them.
My eyes trace over her sleeping form. She looks even younger like this, innocent despite the fact that I deflowered her hours ago.
Small bruises darken her hips where I gripped her too hard while claiming her.
I remember every moment—her whimpers of pain, the resistance of her hymen before it tore, the way she bled on my cock.
Never wanted anything as much as I wanted her virginity. And now it's mine.
I study the bloodstained sheets again. Should probably wash them, get rid of the evidence. But I don't want to. Want to keep this proof somehow, preserve it. Physical evidence that I claimed her completely, took something from her that can never be replaced.
Zoey stirs in my arms. Her eyes flutter open, focusing on me. Immediately her cheeks flush pink. She remembers last night, everything we did. Her hand moves instinctively to cover herself with the sheet, still shy despite the fact that I was inside her.
"How do you feel?" I brush hair from her face, watching her expressions.
"Sore." The blush deepens. "Between my legs. It's... definitely noticeable."
"Painful?"
"Aching, but not unbearable." She won't quite meet my eyes when discussing it. "Just... tender."
I kiss her softly, surprisingly tender myself. She brings out protectiveness I didn't know I had. Still possessive as hell, but gentler with her this morning.
My cock hardens against her hip. Can't help the physical response, not with her naked body pressed to mine. Her eyes widen as she feels me getting erect.
Looks nervous. She's already sore from last night, still adjusting. But there's curiosity in her expression too, desire mixing with the apprehension. Her body is learning to want me despite the soreness.
"I want you again." I cup her face, making her look at me. "Want to fuck you while you're still sore from last night. Remind your body who it belongs to."
She bites her lip, nervous but nods consent. Wants me despite the ache between her legs.
I roll her onto her back, settling between her thighs. She whimpers as I enter her, slower and more careful than last night. No hymen to break this time—I already took that, claimed it permanently. But she's still virgin-tight, still adjusting to taking a cock. Still sore.
I push deeper with long, slow strokes. "I already took your first time last night. But your pussy is still mine, Zoey. Every time I fuck you, I'm claiming you all over again."
She moans at the possessive words. Her body responds, learning pleasure despite the soreness. I fuck her with controlled, measured thrusts, gentler than last night but still claiming her. Making sure she knows who owns this pussy.
When she comes on my cock, I follow shortly after. Fill her bare again, marking her with cum just like last night. No condom between us, nothing preventing me from flooding her with my release. Possessive claiming with every drop.
Afterward, I carry her to my bathroom. We shower together, domestic and intimate.
I wash her carefully, especially between her legs where she's tender.
She's still shy being naked with me in daylight, tries to cover herself occasionally.
I find it endearing given that I've been inside her multiple times now.
Reality intrudes while we're drying off. "Our parents return tomorrow afternoon."
She nods, towel wrapped around her body. "So we have today and tonight."
"Then back to hiding this." The frustration edges into my voice. "Pretending to be normal stepsiblings."
If Raymond and Carol knew what we'd done—that I took my stepsister's virginity, fucked her repeatedly in my bed—the family would implode. Their marriage would be destroyed.
Over the next three days, we establish a new pattern.
Parents are home, so we're careful. At dinner that first night back, I sit across from Zoey while Raymond discusses his latest investment acquisition.
Carol talks about redecorating the library.
We play our roles convincingly—polite stepfamily members, nothing inappropriate.
But Zoey's foot brushes mine under the table. Deliberate contact hidden from our parents. I meet her eyes across the table, see the heat there. Both of us remembering what we did while they were gone.
Whenever Raymond and Carol leave the house, we come together. I take Zoey in my bed, her bed, my home office. Different positions each time, teaching her. She learns quickly, gaining confidence. Her body adjusts to taking me, less pain with each encounter.
But the frequency isn't enough. I can't stop thinking about her constantly. Check my phone obsessively for her texts. Watch security feeds when we're both home, tracking where she is in the house. Find excuses to be near her even when our parents are present.
The obsession intensifies daily instead of fading. Should be getting this out of my system, but each time I fuck her only makes me want her more.
My work suffers. Sitting in a property negotiation meeting downtown, I stare at development reports while thinking about Zoey's pussy.
How tight she grips my cock, the sounds she makes when she comes.
My associates notice my lack of focus, exchange concerned glances when I ask them to repeat information.
Marcus, my business partner, corners me after the meeting. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing."
"You've been distracted for weeks. This deal should have your full attention."
Can't exactly tell him my former virgin stepsister is destroying my concentration. That I'm obsessed with the twenty-year-old girl living in my father's house.
She continues attending Ashford College during the day. Interior design program demands her attention—classes, projects, presentations. I hate the hours she's away at school. Hate knowing she's surrounded by college boys her age, young men who might look at her and get ideas.
The thought makes violence surge through me. She's mine. I claimed her virginity, own her in the most fundamental way possible.
Three days after our parents returned, we're having dinner together as a family. Raymond discusses a charity gala he and Carol are planning. I'm barely listening, too aware of Zoey sitting beside me. Her thigh occasionally brushes mine under the table, sending heat through me.
"How are your classes going, sweetheart?" Carol asks Zoey.
"Really well." Zoey cuts into her chicken. "We started a new design project this week. Residential space planning for a multi-generational home."
"That sounds complex," Raymond comments.
"It is, but I'm partnering with someone really talented." She smiles, completely casual. "Brandon's great at spatial concepts. We've been meeting at the library to work on layouts."
Every muscle in my body tenses. Brandon. A male classmate. Working closely with her, meeting multiple times.
I set down my fork carefully, keeping my expression controlled. "Brandon's in your program?"
"Yeah, he's a junior. Really nice guy." She's oblivious to the jealousy igniting in me. "We're lucky we got paired together. Some people got stuck with partners who don't pull their weight."
"How often do you meet?" The edge underneath my controlled tone should be obvious.
"Few times a week usually." She takes a bite, still not understanding. "Sometimes more if we hit a snag in the design. We met yesterday at the coffee shop on campus for three hours working through floor plans."
Three hours. Alone with some twenty-one-year-old college kid. Working closely, sitting together, collaborating intimately on a project.
"That's wonderful that you have a good partner," Carol says, smiling.
Raymond nods. "Collaboration skills are important in design work."
I ask more questions, voice steady despite the rage building. "What year did you say Brandon is?"
"Junior. He's twenty-one, I think."
Twenty-one. Her age. Young, probably decent-looking if he's in a creative program. Spending hours alone with my Zoey, working side-by-side. Does he flirt with her? Look at her and think inappropriate thoughts? Does he know she's completely off-limits, that she belongs to someone?
"He sounds like a hard worker," Raymond comments.
"He is. And really easy to work with." Zoey's enthusiasm for this Brandon kid makes me want to break things. "We have similar design aesthetics, so we don't argue much about direction."
Compatible. Easy to work with. Similar interests. Everything she's saying fuels the possessive fury threatening to explode out of me.
I finish dinner through sheer force of will, maintaining the pleasant stepbrother facade. The moment our parents excuse themselves to the living room, I corner Zoey in the hallway outside the dining room.
"Who is Brandon?" Low voice, controlled despite the jealousy coursing through me.
She blinks, confused. "I told you. A classmate."
"How close are you?"
"We're partners for a project. That's it." She studies my face, realization dawning. "Zachary?—"
"Does he flirt with you?"
"What? No. It's just school."
"Does he know you're not available?" I step closer, backing her against the wall. "That you belong to someone?"
"I can't exactly tell him that." Her voice drops to a whisper. "You're supposed to be my stepbrother. And even if you weren't, we're secret."
"I don't care what we're supposed to be." My hand braces beside her head. "You're mine, Zoey. I took your virginity. No other man gets close to you."
"It's a school project!" Her eyes flash with frustration. "I have to work with classmates. I can't avoid all men just because you're possessive."
"Watch me make you."
"You're being unreasonable." She pushes at my chest. "I'm in college. Group projects are required. I don't have a choice about partners."
"Then I'll make sure he knows to keep his hands off what's mine."
"He doesn't even—" She stops, lowering her voice as footsteps sound upstairs. "This is insane. You're acting like a jealous boyfriend when you're supposed to be my stepbrother."
"I'm the man who claimed your first time." I lean closer, voice dark. "That makes you mine, exclusively. Stepbrother or not."
"I'm twenty years old, living a college life." Her jaw sets stubbornly. "You're almost forty. Different worlds, Zachary. You can't expect me to isolate myself completely."
The age gap argument shouldn't bother me, but it does. She's right—I'm thirty-nine, she's twenty. Nearly two decades separate us. I should be mature enough to handle her having male classmates without losing control.
But I'm not. The thought of another man touching her, talking to her, working closely with her makes violence surge through me. Imagining this Brandon kid developing feelings, making a move, putting his hands on what belongs to me exclusively.
"I don't care about age or what I'm supposed to be." My thumb traces her jaw. "You gave me your virginity. That makes you mine. No other man touches you, period."
She opens her mouth to argue, but Carol's voice drifts from the living room. "Zoey? Can you help me with something?"
Zoey slips away from me, heading toward our parents. I watch her go, jealousy still burning through my system.
Tomorrow, I'll handle the Brandon situation. Make sure everyone at Ashford College understands that Zoey Hart is completely off-limits.
Mine in every way that matters.