Craving My Stepbrothers

Aria

“Are you ready to get freaky?”

His voice slipped through the mask, distorted and rough, a strange mix of teasing and command.

My chest tightened. “Yes,” I whispered, my breath shaky, my lips trembling against the mask.

You might think I’m insane, and maybe I am. Who else would sneak into a masked club just to trick their best friend into a one-night stand? Who else would gamble their heart like this? But desperation has a way of making people reckless.

Because here’s my truth: I’ve always had a crush on Mason. Since we were kids, since the first time he smiled at me like I mattered, even if he never truly saw me the way I saw him. But I don’t have time anymore. My body has been betraying me for years. Weeks ago, the doctor told me I had less than six months left. Six months before the illness finally takes me.

And I refuse to die untouched. I refuse to leave this world without knowing what it feels like to be wanted, to be held, even if it’s all a lie.

That’s why I’m here, hidden in room 406 of the infamous mask club, where students come to meet in the shadows, to do what they’d never dare admit in daylight. Mason doesn’t know it’s me. He thinks he’s meeting Bianca, the girlfriend who cheats on him endlessly yet somehow still owns his loyalty. She texted him earlier, told him to come here. I was the one who saw the message. I was the one who told him she wanted him here early. Bianca would be late, as always.

So when he walked through the door, I was already waiting. Mask on. Lips painted. Body trembling with fear and desire.

Now he was close, so close I could smell the faint cologne I knew by heart. The same one that clung to his hoodies when we studied together, the same one that haunted me in dreams.

My hands tightened nervously at the hem of my dress. My knees wanted to buckle. My body screamed to run, but my heart forced me to stay. If he finds out it’s me, I’ll never recover. But under this mask, maybe I can have one night. One memory.

“Why are you acting all awkward? What’s wrong?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, his masked eyes narrowing. His voice carried suspicion, confusion. Of course it did, he thought he was meeting Bianca, who would’ve thrown herself at him without hesitation.

My lips quivered. I couldn’t let him think I was inexperienced. So before fear could choke me, I rushed forward and pressed my lips to his.

The world stilled. His lips were warm, softer than I remembered from that single kiss years ago in tenth grade, the kiss that ruined me, that made me fall for him completely. Butterflies exploded in my stomach, my skin burning under his touch.

For a moment, I swayed, dizzy, but his arms wrapped around me, strong and steady, pulling me against him. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. He carried me to the bed, laying me down as though I was something fragile, his lips brushing against my neck.

Then my eyes caught something. A tattoo. A heart shaped tatoo. I remembered him telling me he wanted to get them. Maybe he finally did.

Heat scorched my skin where his mouth traveled, leaving goosebumps in its wake. My fingers dug into the bedsheet, the fabric twisting in my grip. My chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm, torn between fear and craving.

His lips trailed downward, slow, deliberate, until he found the edge of my dress. With steady hands, he peeled it away. My body stiffened in panic. For a second, I almost stopped him. Almost confessed.

But then his hands slid over my skin, his mouth claiming my chest, and I forgot how to breathe. My eyes fluttered shut, a strangled moan escaping as his tongue teased me, his lips sucking hard enough to make my head fall back.

God. It was too much.

And then his hand slid lower, fingertips brushing me in a way no one ever had. My breath hitched, my body trembling as a gasp broke free. Panic flared, would he know? Would he realize I was a virgin?

He paused. His hand stilled. “You’re sure about this?” His voice came softer, though still warped by the mask.

My lips parted. My throat burned. But I forced the word out, steady despite the chaos inside me. “Yes.”

Something in his posture shifted. A scoff, a breathy sound, almost like he was convincing himself. His belt clinked, the sound echoing in the dark room as he fumbled it loose. My heart pounded harder, my eyes widening as he freed himself.

When I saw him, I nearly gasped. He was…big. Intimidatingly so. The sight alone made me swallow hard, fear and anticipation crashing into each other inside me.

He guided my hand to him, and I froze. His skin was hot, his body pulsing beneath my touch. I jerked away in fear, but his low chuckle sent shivers crawling over me.

“What’s going on?” he murmured, curiosity edging his tone.

I couldn’t let him suspect. So I swallowed my nerves, wrapped my fingers around him again, and let instinct guide me. My lips brushed against him, tentative, unsure. My heart raced with humiliation, but when I glanced up, his head was tilted back, his eyes closed, his lips parted in a soundless groan.

Relief rushed through me. He liked it. I was doing it right.

By the time he pulled me back to him, his hand sliding once more between my thighs, I was already shaking. His touch grew firmer, rougher, and my body betrayed me, growing wet beneath him. I hated how much I wanted it. How much I needed this memory, no matter the cost.

Then he positioned himself, his length teasing at my entrance, the pressure making me tremble. My breath caught, fear slicing through the haze of desire. Could I even take him?

When he finally pushed in, the world split open. Pain burned through me, sharp and consuming. My nails clawed at his back, my body arching as I gasped against his shoulder.

But then, slowly, unbearably, pleasure began to lace itself with the pain. My chest heaved, tears pricking my eyes as I clung to him, every thrust tearing me apart and stitching me back together all at once.

The room filled with the sounds of us, the rustle of sheets, the ragged breaths, the rhythm of skin against skin. My body quivered under him, my voice breaking with soft moans I couldn’t hold back.

I had wanted this. I had needed this. And even if he never knew it was me, even if tomorrow he went back to loving Bianca, I would keep this night.

After it was over, he collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving. I scrambled up, my hands shaking as I pulled my clothes back on, desperate to disappear before the truth surfaced. My heart hammered in my throat. Just as I reached the door, his shadow moved. In an instant, he was on his feet, his hand slamming against the wall beside my head, trapping me in place. His masked eyes burned into mine.

“Who are you?”