Taken by my Stepbrother— Part 1

THE WATCHER— Mia

I found that my mother had remarried a man named Damian after getting back home from college on a sunny day, and my whole world seemed to crash down.

Today makes it 5 months they've been together, and we gathered around the dining table for a little celebration.

Sitting across from me is Ethan. His jaw was sharp, eyes were fixed on his plate. He hasn't said three words to me since I walked through the door. My new stepbrother. Drop-dead gorgeous, his forearms flexed every time he lifted his fork. Veins. Thick ones. I looked away first cause I always did.

"Be nice to each other," my mother said, patting her new husband's hand. "You're family now." I looked at him again, heat radiating off my cheeks. He has very large, well-defined biceps and forearms, and the veins are also very prominent.

Then he finally looked up. His eyes met mine. Dark brown. Almost black, and unreadable. He held my gaze for exactly three seconds. Then he went back to his food. I excused myself early, claiming I had a headache.

I lay on my bed that night, staring at the ceiling, sleep refusing to come. I stood up from my bed to get water, barefoot, my shorts riding high on my thighs. The hallway was dark, but his door was cracked open.

I shouldn't have looked. Every rational part of me screamed at me to walk past to get my water. To go back to my room and pretend I hadn't seen anything. But I didn't listen.

I saw Ethan sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, with his phone in his hand. The red light lit up his chest– the dark line of his hair disappearing below his waistband. His shoulders were broad. His thumb moved slowly. Up. Down. Up. Down.

He wasn't scrolling through social media. I could tell by his expression. His breathing was shallow, and his jaw was tight.

Then he looked up.

Straight at me.

My breath caught. I couldn't stop staring at his eyes, cold and distant. His eyes dragged down my body– my loose tank, the wet patch of sweat between my breasts, my bare legs. He didn't blink.

"Thirsty?" His voice was low. Husky. Not casual at all. I couldn't speak, so I nodded.

He set his phone face down – and stood walking up to me. He stopped inches away. Close enough that I felt the heat radiating off his chest. He smelled like that cologne and something dark.

"Your shorts are riding up," he said. I looked down. The hem had crept to my hips, truly. He could see the edge of my panties. Lace. Red. I'd worn them cause red is my favorite.

His finger hooked the fabric. Just the waistband. He tugged it gently – not pulling them down, just testing, or should I say teasing. Seeing if I'd stop him.

I should have, but I didn't.

"Ethan…" My voice came out shaky. Not warning. A plea. A question I didn't know how to finish.

"Say my name again," he murmured. Leaning in, his lips brushed my ear, his breath hot. Making me shiver. "Say it like you mean it."

"Ethan…"

He slid his hand lower, palm flat against my hip. His thumb traced the already damped lace. I was embarrassingly and achingly wet. He felt it.

"Jesus," he whispered. "You've been like this all night?"

I bit my lips, nodding my head. My face burned. But I couldn't look at his eyes.

He pushed me against the doorframe. His body pressed into mine. Hard. All of him. I felt an inch of him through his sweat. Thick. Heavy. Wanting. ants. My heart is racing fast.

"Your mother is two rooms away," he said. My father is asleep."

"I know."

"You don't care?"

"I do. I should."

"But you don't." I shook my head. My hands found his shoulders. His skin was hot, sweat s

He kissed me.

Not soft. Not gentle. Not the careful kiss of a stepbrother testing boundaries. His tongue pushed past my lips as he owned me. His hand gripped my thigh, lifting it and wrapping it around his hip. The new angle pressed him right there, where I needed him.

I moaned into his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were black. Dark and hungry. Looking like a predator who had finally cornered his prey.

"This is wrong," he said.

"Then stop."

He smirked, slow and cruel, which made my stomach flip.

"I'm not going to stop Mia."

His hand slid into my shorts. Two fingers find my wetness, circled once, twice— then pushed inside me.

I gasped. My head hit the wall behind me. He curled his fingers, stroking that spot deep inside, which made me see stars

He leaned in and whispered against my throat.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. And you're going to thank me for it. Little Rabbit."

I couldn't argue. I didn't want to.