7. Chloe
CHLOE
I wake to the sensation of being filled. Stretched. Moving.
My eyes flutter open, confusion mixing with arousal as consciousness catches up to what my body already knows. Morning light streams through Cade's bedroom windows, illuminating the man above me. Those gray eyes dark with hunger as he thrusts into me, steady and deep.
"Wh—Cade?"
"Morning, stepsister. Sleep well?"
He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow. Just keeps that maddening rhythm, cock buried inside me while I'm still processing waking up.
"I—oh god—what are you?—"
"Couldn't wait for you to wake up." He grins wickedly, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust that makes me gasp. "You looked so fucking perfect lying there. Had to have you."
My body responds before my brain fully engages. Pussy already wet, accommodating him easily despite the surprise. The sleep-fog makes everything more intense—every sensation heightened, every nerve ending raw.
"You're inside me—you just?—"
"You said I could use you whenever I wanted." He pulls almost all the way out, slams back in hard enough to make my breath catch. "Even in your sleep, remember?"
The memory floods back. Our arrangement. The permission I gave him?—
"Oh fuck?—"
He hits that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
"That I'd wake you up with my cock already in you?" His voice drops lower, darker. "Exactly like this?"
I can't answer. Can't think. He doesn't give me time to adjust, too hungry for me. Pulls my wrists above my head with one hand, pins them there. His other hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise, holding me steady as he fucks me with increasing force.
"You're so wet already." Each word punctuated by another thrust. "Your body knew what was coming even asleep. Prepared itself for my cock."
The headboard bangs against the wall. My breasts bounce with the force of his movements. I moan, overwhelmed by sensation, unable to do anything but feel.
"Love that I can just take you like this." His breath hot against my ear. "Slide inside whenever I want. Even when you're sleeping. Especially when you're sleeping. So fucking perfect for me."
The orgasm builds faster than normal, my sleep-sensitive body racing toward climax. Every nerve ending on fire.
"Cade—I'm going to—already?—"
"That's it, baby. Come on my cock." His command resonates through me. "Come for me just like this. Still half-asleep and already fucking coming."
I try to hold back, too overwhelming, but his next words break my resistance.
"Let go, Chloe. Give it to me."
The orgasm crashes through me violently. My back arches off the bed, pussy clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. He groans feeling me squeeze him.
"That's my good girl. Fuck, you feel incredible when you come."
He doesn't stop thrusting. Fucks me through it, pushing toward overstimulation.
"Too much—Cade—I can't?—"
"Yes, you can. You will."
His rhythm becomes erratic, chasing his own release. Grip tightening on my hip—definitely leaving bruises to match the others marking my body.
"Going to fill you up." His voice rough, strained. "Pump you full of my cum. Mark you from the inside. Make sure you feel me dripping out all day."
I whimper, still sensitive, but his possessive words send another wave of heat through me.
"That's right, take it all. Every fucking drop."
He buries himself deep, grinding against me as he releases inside me with a grunt. I feel him pulsing, filling me with hot cum. Painting my walls.
"Mine," he growls. "All fucking mine."
He stays buried deep, making sure nothing leaks out yet. Both of us panting, sweat-slicked and exhausted.
Eventually he pulls out, both of us groaning at the loss. He collapses beside me, pulling me against his chest. His heart pounds beneath my ear.
"That's one hell of a wake-up call."
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Figured it beat an alarm clock."
"My alarm just buzzes. Doesn't fuck me awake."
"Should upgrade your alarm then."
I smack his chest playfully. "You're terrible."
"You loved it."
I can't deny it. "Doesn't mean you're not terrible."
I shift, feeling his cum leak out between my thighs. The sensation makes me clench involuntarily.
"I need to clean up."
"Not yet. Want you to feel me a while longer." His hand slides between my legs possessively, fingers spreading his cum around my pussy. "Love knowing my cum is inside you. That you'll feel it all morning."
"Cade..."
"Come on. Shower first, then breakfast."
The shower starts innocent enough—quick rinse, washing away sweat and fluids. But Cade can't keep his hands to himself. Pins me against the tiles, fingers sliding inside me while hot water streams over us both.
"Cade—we just?—"
"Can't help it. You're too fucking irresistible."
He brings me to another quick orgasm against the shower wall before finally letting me actually wash.
After drying off, I pull on sleep shorts and a tank top, heading toward his bedroom door.
"Where are you going?"
"To my room to get actual clothes?"
"Get dressed. We're going out."
I grin, unable to resist teasing him. "I thought you were going to fuck me in every room of this house? Wasn't that the plan, stepbrother?"
His laugh surprises me—warm and genuine. "As tempting as that is..." He shakes his head. "I'm actually taking you out today."
"Out? Like, outside?"
"Yeah. On a date."
I blink, genuinely surprised. We've barely left the house since our parents departed. Too consumed with each other to think about the outside world.
"A real date?"
"A real date. So go get dressed. Something nice but comfortable. We're going to be walking around."
Giddy excitement bubbles up in my chest as I return to my room. A real date. With Cade. In public, like a normal couple.
I choose a light blue sundress with small flowers, comfortable sandals, and keep my makeup natural. Hair down in waves. Looking at myself in the mirror, I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? We've been fucking for days. But a date feels different. More real somehow.
Cade waits in the living room wearing jeans and a fitted t-shirt under his leather jacket. Motorcycle keys in hand.
"We're taking the bike?"
"Unless you'd prefer the car?"
"No, bike is perfect."
He hands me a helmet. "Then let's go."
The ride through the city feels like freedom. Wind whipping past us, me pressed against his back, thighs hugging his hips. The engine roars beneath us as buildings blur into streaks of color. No sneaking. No hiding. Just us and the road.
He parks downtown where shops, cafes, and galleries line the streets. Helps me off the bike, removes our helmets.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see. Trust me?"
"Always."
We walk hand in hand down the main street. His arm slides around my shoulders, and I lean into him. The normalcy of it makes my chest tight. Just a couple window shopping, pointing out interesting things to each other.
"Look at that painting."
"Want to go in?"
We step into a small art gallery showcasing local artists. The space is quiet, intimate, with white walls and polished concrete floors. I move slowly from piece to piece, studying brushwork and color choices. Cade stays close beside me, his hand resting at the small of my back.
"This one's interesting," I say, stopping in front of an abstract landscape. "See how the artist layered the paint? It creates depth without traditional perspective."
"How can you tell it's layered?"
I lean closer, pointing without touching the canvas. "See the texture? Those ridges where thick paint dried over thinner washes. And the way colors peek through from underneath."
He studies it thoughtfully, actually looking at what I'm showing him. Not just nodding politely—really paying attention.
"What made you interested in art?" he asks as we move to the next piece.
"My mom, actually. Before she met Harold, she used to take me to galleries when I was little. Said it was important to see how people express what words can't."
His fingers squeeze my hip gently. We continue through the gallery like this—me explaining techniques, him asking questions that show he's genuinely curious. When I catch him watching me instead of the paintings, my cheeks warm.
"What?"
"Just like hearing you talk about something you're passionate about."
We leave the gallery and find a small café with outdoor seating a few doors down. Round metal tables with colorful umbrellas line the sidewalk. Cade orders us both iced coffee, and we claim a table in the sun.
The warmth feels good on my bare shoulders. Our fingers intertwine on the tabletop between our drinks, his thumb tracing lazy circles over my knuckles. We sit quietly for a while, just watching people pass by—couples with shopping bags, families with strollers, a guy walking three dogs at once.
"That could be us in twenty years," I tease, nodding toward an older couple shuffling past. "You grumpy, me telling you to walk faster."
"Who says I'll be grumpy?"
"You're already grumpy."
His lips twitch. "You bring it out in me."
I lean back in my chair, sipping my coffee, feeling ridiculously content. This simple, normal afternoon feels more intimate than anything we've done in his bed.
"This is nice," I say softly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Feels normal. Like we could actually be..."
I trail off, not finishing the thought. He squeezes my hand.
"We are. Just us."
After coffee, we continue walking. Cade stops suddenly, pointing to a convenience store across the street.
"Wait here a second. I'm going to grab us some drinks for later."
"You sure? I can come with."
"Nah, just take a minute. Stay here."
He kisses my forehead before jogging across the street. I lean against the building, checking my phone, comfortable in the afternoon sun.
"Hey there."
I look up to see a guy approaching. Mid-twenties, typical fratboy look with a confident smirk that immediately puts me on edge.
"Hi...?"
"You waiting for someone?"
He moves into my personal space. I step back.
"My boyfriend actually, yeah."