Taken by my Stepbrother— Part 3

THE RECKONING

My heart slammed against my rib so hard I thought it might crack them as the footsteps grew louder. Ethan's arm gripped my waist, pulling me flat against his body. Neither of us seems to be breathing. 

The shadow passed under the door. A grumble. Then the bathroom door across the hall clicked open. 

Ethan’s father. Just going to pee at 4 in the morning. Innocent and completely unaware of what's going on.

I exhaled against the pillow. Ethan let out a low, shaky breath.

“That was a close one,” he whispered. “You said the door was fine,” I said, turning my head to him, glaring at him. 

“I only said there was no lock.

I smacked his chest hard. He caught my wrist and kissed my knuckles. Soft that I melted into it. 

“Don't go back to your room,” he murmured. “The sun's almost up,” I said. 

“I don't care.” 

He pulled me closer. His body warm, still slick with the evidence of what we'd done. He traced the curve of my hip, possessively. 

“10 more minutes,” he said.

I stay for thirty. 

Morning came too fast; it annoyed me. I woke up alone on his bed, and a glass of water sat on the nightstand. My clothes were already folded on the chair— my top, shorts, and my red lace panties. Everything neat. He'd taken care of me while I was still sleeping. 

He'd laid out a shirt of his on top. Black. I pulled it on, and it fell to my mid-thigh. It smelled like him, and I hated how much I loved it. 

I found him in the kitchen, shirtless, making coffee. He looks hot. 

He turned when he heard my footsteps. His eyes dropped to his shirt on my body. Something dark flickered across his face. Possession.

—

“Morning, little sis,” he said. His voice was obviously teasing. But his eyes weren't.

“Don't call me that.” 

“Why not? Isn't that what you are?”

I walked past him, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. He caught my wrist, pulling me back against his chest, his lips brushing my ear. His voice dropped to a low rumble. 

“You look gorgeous in my clothes,” he said. 

My mother walked in before I could reply. “Good morning, Sleepyheads!” she said, holding a tray of fresh croissants. Damian followed her, yawning, already in his work suit. 

Ethan let go of me, pouring himself coffee and took a sip while smiling at his father like nothing had happened. 

I stood there. wearing his shirt, and my hair is a mess. 

“Did you sleep okay, baby? My mum asked setting down the tray.

I opened my mouth to talk, but nothing came out. 

“She had a nightmare,” Ethan said easily. So I gave her some water, and she crashed in the guest room. 

Liar. His face has a mask of brotherly concern. And because of that, he deserves an Oscar. Just kidding.

My mother nodded, completely convinced. “You should wear more than that, darling. You'll catch a cold.”  

I nodded and rushed back to my room like the house was on fire. 

Coming back downstairs again—  now dressed in actual jeans and a real shirt. I found a folded note under my breakfast plate. 

“My room tonight. 2 AM. Don't be late, little rabbit.”

I looked up to look at him. He's reading a newspaper, calm.

I took a spoonful of my food to eat and almost jolted up when Ethan's foot started coming up to my thigh.

“Darling, hope you're okay?” 

“Yeah, I'm fine.” She nodded as she continued what she was doing. 

He has lifted his foot now, fully between my thighs. I glared at him, but he smirked.

He pressed his foot to my now-damped jeans, and I almost choked on my food as I tried to stop the moan from coming out of my mouth. 

He put down his foot, finishing his meal, then went upstairs. Leaving me utterly shocked. 

—

The clock was torture. Every hour crawled. Dinner was agony. My mother talked about her honeymoon plans and all.

I heard his door open, he walked past mine, and paused leaning against the wood on the other side. 

“Two hours,” he said. Quiet, just for me. 

“I'll be there,” I said.

“Don't be late.” 

He retreated to his room, leaving me alone as I counted every second, each minute feeling like an hour.

I decided to tease him by going late. 

I looked up at the clock. The time is 2:30 AM. I felt excited at what he might do to me for coming late. 

I stood up after putting on nothing but a lace bralette and a black shorts. No robe, no excuse. I opened his door without knocking, 

He was waiting on the edge of his bed, shirtless. His sweatpants hung low on his hips. He looked up when I entered. His jaw tightened. 

“You came in 30 minutes late, little rabbit.” I gulped down hard, unable to form words. 

He walked up to me, holding my chin. “I hope you're ready for your punishment, baby,” he said, smirking. 

I yelped as he carried me and threw me on his bed. I tried to stand up and run back to my room, but he held my legs in place. 

“You can't escape, little rabbit.” 

He kissed me, deep. Groaning against my mouth. He locked my hands above my head, tying them not too hard. 

“Ethan, what are you doing?” 

He only smirked.

I felt completely powerless beneath him, a part of me regretting why I came late, and the other part nervous about what he would do. 

He slid his hands down, cupping my breast, making me gasp as he took one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking aggressively.

He ripped of the clothes off my body, and I'm naked under him.

He bent down, lowering himself between my thighs, kissing down my stomach, his lips left a trail of fire.

But before his mouth reached me, his phone buzzed.

He ignored it. It buzzed again.

“Ethan,” I warned.

“Fuck ‘em.”

The screen lit up, and I saw the name.

MOM.

My mother. The woman who had absolutely no idea her daughter was about to be taken by her new husband's son. 

I froze. So did he. 

“Answer it,” I whispered. “She'll get suspicious.”

He grabbed his phone, swiping it. “Hey, Mom. What's up?” 

He's still between my legs. My heart pounded so loud I was thinking if she could hear it through the line.

“I'm… fine,” he said, voice strained. “Just woke up.” I couldn't sleep.”

“What? No I'm alone.”

I freed my hands. Reaching down and touching myself, just lightly. His eyes went blank as he watched me. 

“Hmm,” he hummed to my mother. 

I circled my clit, slowly. His breath caught. I slipped a finger in. His gaze dropped to me.  

“I'm okay, yeah. See you at breakfast.” I added a second finger. Now soaked. The sound was quiet.

“Yeah, Talk tomorrow.”

He hung up and tossed his phone across the room. Hitting the wall with a dull thud.

“You're going to pay for that,” he growled. 

He grabbed my hand and pulled my wet fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean.

Then he flipped me onto my stomach and entered me in one brutal stroke. 

I screamed so loudly into the pillow.

“Shhh,” he hissed, but didn't slow down. He took me hard. Every thrust pushed me higher up the bed.

“Fuck, Mia. You're fucking tight. So wet for me, you did that on purpose, right?”

“Maybe I did.”

He pulled out, flipping me over. Watching his own cock slide back inside me made me come instantly. Uncontrollably, I arched off the bed. 

“Oh my god, Ethan—”

He covered my mouth with his hand. Pounded through my climax. His release followed seconds later, spilling inside me with a guttural moan.

We lay tangled, breathless. He pulled me against his chest. 

“You leave for college next week,” his voice was rough.

“I won't let you.”

I turned my head, looking into his eyes. My stepbrother. Ethan. The man who just wrecked me.

“Then don't,” I said.

He kissed my forehead, my nose, my lips. Soft and tender.

“Don't go back to your room,” he whispered.

“I wasn't planning to.”