Masuk
Chapter 1: Caught in the Dark
I never thought I would see my stepbrother like this. The house was supposed to be empty. Mom and Dad had left for their anniversary weekend, and I had planned to spend the night buried in my books, finally getting some peace from Damien’s constant noise. Hockey practice, loud parties, girls screaming his name downstairs at all hours. He made it his mission to remind me every single day that this was his house first, his life, and I was just the quiet charity case his father had dragged in when he married my mother. But tonight the basement light was on. I crept down the stairs because I heard something strange. A low groan, deep and rough, followed by a wet sound that made my stomach tighten. The door to the game room was cracked open just enough for me to see inside without being noticed. My hand froze on the railing. Damien was on the old leather couch, legs spread wide, his hockey jersey pushed up to his chest. His sweatpants were around his ankles. And between his thighs, on his knees, was a guy I recognized from the team. Tyler. One of his closest friends. Damien’s hand was fisted in Tyler’s hair, guiding him roughly as Tyler’s head bobbed up and down. The sounds were obscene. Wet slurps, gagging breaths, and Damien’s low curses cutting through the air. “Fuck yeah, just like that,” Damien growled, his hips snapping up. “Deeper. Don’t you dare pull back now.” Tyler made a choked noise but kept going, hands gripping Damien’s thick thighs. Damien’s head was thrown back, eyes half closed, his abs flexing with every thrust into Tyler’s mouth. Sweat glistened on his skin. He looked powerful. Dangerous. Nothing like the asshole who shoved past me in the hallways or called me “bookworm” like it was an insult. My heart hammered so hard I thought it would burst. I should have backed away. I should have run upstairs and pretended I saw nothing. But my feet would not move. Heat flooded my face, then my groin, and shame mixed with something darker I did not want to name. Damien’s eyes suddenly snapped open and locked directly onto mine through the crack in the door. Time stopped. For a second, neither of us moved. Tyler kept sucking, oblivious, but Damien’s gaze burned into me. His lips curled into a slow, cruel smile even as pleasure twisted his features. “Shit,” he hissed through gritted teeth. His hand tightened in Tyler’s hair, forcing him down harder. “Swallow it all.” Tyler moaned around him, and Damien came with a deep groan, hips jerking. I watched every second of it, frozen, unable to look away from the way Damien’s cock pulsed between Tyler’s lips, the way his body shuddered with release. When it was over, Damien pushed Tyler off him casually, like he was discarding a towel after practice. “Get out,” he said flatly. Tyler wiped his mouth, looking confused. “What? We just started—” “I said get the fuck out. Now.” Tyler grabbed his jacket and left through the side door, muttering under his breath. The basement fell silent except for my ragged breathing. Damien stood up slowly, pulling up his sweatpants but not bothering to hide the wet spot or the obvious bulge still straining against the fabric. He walked straight to the door and yanked it open. I stumbled back, nearly falling down the stairs. “Well, well,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Look who decided to play spy tonight.” “I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I was just getting water and I heard—” “Save it.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the room, slamming the door shut behind us. The lock clicked. “You saw everything, Elias. Don’t insult me by lying.” His grip was iron. Up close, he smelled like sweat and sex, and it made my head spin. Damien towered over me, six foot three of pure muscle from years on the ice, while I was slimmer, softer, more used to libraries than locker rooms. “What are you going to do?” I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt. Damien’s smile widened. He backed me up until my legs hit the couch. “That depends on you, little stepbrother. You going to run and tell Mommy and Daddy that their precious golden boy likes dick? That their hockey star sucks off his teammates in the basement?” My face burned. “I wouldn’t—” “Yeah, you would. You’ve always hated me. This is your perfect chance to get rid of me.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “But I have a better idea.” His free hand came up and cupped my jaw, forcing me to look at him. His thumb brushed my lower lip, and I hated how my body reacted, a shiver running straight down my spine. “You keep your mouth shut about what you saw,” he continued, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “And in return, you’re going to help me keep quiet too.” “I don’t understand.” Damien laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “On your knees, Elias.” My eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.” “Oh, I’m very serious.” He pressed down on my shoulder, and I sank to the floor before I could stop myself. The carpet was rough against my knees. Damien towered above me now, his hand still gripping my jaw. “You watched me get sucked off like you couldn’t look away. I saw the way you stared. So now you’re going to finish what Tyler started.” My heart raced. Part of me wanted to fight him, to shove him away and run. But another part, the part that had secretly watched him for months, the part that hated him and wanted him at the same time, kept me there. “This is wrong,” I said, but my voice came out weak. “Wrong feels pretty fucking good sometimes.” Damien pushed his sweatpants down again, freeing his cock. It was still half hard, thick and heavy, glistening from Tyler’s mouth. “Open up.” I hesitated only a second before his hand tangled in my hair and guided me forward. The taste hit me first, salty and musky, still warm from what he had just done. I wrapped my lips around the head, tentative, and Damien groaned. “Fuck, that’s it. Deeper, bookworm. Show me you can do better than Tyler.” I tried. My hands came up to grip his thighs for balance as he pushed further into my mouth. He was big, stretching my lips, hitting the back of my throat and making me gag. Tears pricked my eyes, but I did not pull away. Damien’s hips rocked slowly at first, then faster, fucking my mouth with the same arrogance he showed on the ice. “You look good like this,” he muttered, voice strained. “On your knees where you belong. All that quiet attitude and you’re just another slut for my cock.” His words should have angered me. Instead they sent heat pooling low in my belly. I moaned around him, and Damien cursed, his grip tightening. “Keep making those sounds and I won’t last.” I sucked harder, swirling my tongue, letting him use my mouth. The basement filled with wet sounds and his heavy breathing. My own erection strained painfully against my jeans, humiliating and undeniable. Damien’s thrusts grew erratic. “Look at me,” he ordered. I lifted my eyes. Our gazes locked, and something raw passed between us. Hate. Need. Years of tension exploding in this one forbidden moment. “I’m going to come,” he warned, voice rough. “And you’re going to swallow every drop like a good little secret keeper.” I had no choice. He buried himself deep and came with a guttural groan, flooding my mouth. I swallowed desperately, choking but taking it all. When he finally pulled out, a string of saliva and cum connected my lips to his cock. Damien stared down at me, chest heaving, eyes dark with satisfaction and something darker I could not read. “Good boy,” he said softly, wiping his thumb across my swollen lips. “But we’re not done yet.” He reached for his phone on the couch, and my blood ran cold as he opened the camera app. “Smile for the picture, Elias. Insurance. So you don’t forget who owns you now.” I tried to stand, but he pushed me back down, his hand firm on my shoulder. “Damien, wait—” The camera flashed. And in that moment, I realized I had just walked straight into hell with my stepbrother. One I was terrified I did not want to escape.Chapter 2: The Night the Line BlurredThe second letter arrived the next morning.Kane found it first. He was already awake when I came out of the bedroom, black T-shirt stretched across his chest, tactical pants, the same cold gray eyes scanning the hallway through the peephole before he opened the door. The envelope was plain white, no stamp, same blocky handwriting. He didn’t let me touch it. He bagged it, photographed it, and sent the images to the agency while I stood in the kitchen with coffee going cold in my hands.“They’re getting closer,” he said. Voice flat. Professional. “This one was left after I did the 0500 sweep. Means someone is watching the building’s patterns.”I nodded like I understood the operational language. All I really understood was the way my pulse jumped every time he moved past me, and the fact that I’d woken up hard again with the memory of his voice saying you’re hard still echoing in my head.Kane decided we were leaving the apartment by noon.“Safe ho
His Unbreakable GuardChapter 1: The Man They Sent to Watch MeI never asked for a bodyguard. I especially never asked for one who looked like that.The agency sent him after the third letter showed up under my apartment door. Same blocky handwriting, same quiet threat about what would happen if I didn’t “stop talking.” I was a journalist, not a celebrity. I wrote long-form pieces about corruption and corporate cover-ups. Apparently someone had finally decided the words were expensive enough to silence.They told me his name was Kane Maddox. Ex-special forces. Discreet. Efficient. The kind of man who could clear a room without raising his voice. I expected someone older, grayer, forgettable.I did not expect the man who walked into my living room at 9:04 a.m. on a Thursday.He was tall—six-four at least—broad through the shoulders in a way that made the black tactical jacket look tailored instead of bulky. Dark hair cut short, jaw shadowed with stubble, a thin scar cutting through one
Claimed by the CapoChapter 3: The Night the Debt ChangedI cooked breakfast at 6:45 a.m. like nothing had happened.Eggs. Toast. Fresh coffee in the press the way the inventory notes suggested he preferred it. My hands were steady. My head was not. Every time I closed my eyes I felt Dante’s fist wrapped around my cock through wet denim and heard my own voice saying don’t stop. The memory sat low in my gut, heavy and unfinished. Coming in my jeans had taken the edge off for maybe an hour. After that the ache had come back sharper, meaner, like my body had decided that one release under his hand was only the opening argument.Dante walked into the kitchen at exactly 7:00. Black shirt again, sleeves rolled, hair still damp from a shower. He looked at the plate I set in front of him, then at me, and the corner of his mouth lifted in that same knowing way.“You slept,” he said. Not a question.“Some.”“You woke up hard.”I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. He could see it in the way I stoo
Claimed by the CapoChapter 2: The House That Wouldn’t Let Me BreatheThe east wing was bigger than my entire apartment.Marble floors. Tall windows that looked out over a dark stretch of garden. A bedroom with a bed that could have slept four and a bathroom with a shower large enough to host a party. Marco handed me a set of keys, a folder with kitchen inventory and house rules, and left me standing in the middle of all that quiet money like I might leave fingerprints on the air itself.I told myself I could do this. Cook. Clean. Keep my head down. Ignore the way my cock had stayed half-hard the entire drive over.The kitchen was a cathedral of stainless steel and black stone. I found the fridge stocked like someone expected a siege, the pantry organized with military precision. I made myself a simple pasta because the alternative was standing still long enough to think about Dante’s voice saying you’re already reacting to me. I ate it standing at the counter, staring at nothing, and
Claimed by the CapoChapter 1: The Debt That Brought Me to HimI never believed a single signature could ruin a life. Until the day I signed my name on a loan I had no way of paying back.The interest was a living thing. It grew while I slept, while I worked double shifts at the warehouse, while I lied to my sister and said everything was fine. By the time the men in black cars started parking across the street from my apartment, I already knew the math. Thirty-seven thousand dollars. Plus the kind of interest that didn’t care about excuses.They took me on a Tuesday.No hood. No drama. Just two quiet guys who opened the back door of a black SUV and waited until I climbed in. The ride lasted twenty-three minutes. I counted. When the car stopped it was in front of a converted warehouse on the edge of the industrial district—brick, steel, windows that didn’t let light out. One of the men walked me inside like I was expected.The office at the end of the hall smelled like leather and exp
Chapter 3: The Night I Stopped RunningI didn’t open the bar the next night.I left the CLOSED sign hanging and the lights off. I sat on a stool in the dark with a glass of the same whiskey Lucien never really drank and waited. My body already knew he was coming. The air felt charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. My cock had been half-hard since sunset, thickening every time the wind rattled the windows or a shadow moved past the glass.I told myself I still had a choice. I was a liar, and I knew it.At 12:47 the lock turned by itself.Lucien stepped inside like he belonged there, black coat open over a dark shirt, rain still clinging to his hair. He closed the door behind him without looking, eyes already on me. In the low light from the street they looked completely black. The scent of him—cold rain, iron, that sweet metallic undercurrent—hit me like a fist to the chest.“You didn’t open,” he said.“Didn’t feel like serving anyone else.”He crossed the room slowly, each st
Chapter 1: Caught in the ActThe bass from Jordan’s speakers thumped through the walls as I slipped out of his room, heart hammering like a damn traitor. The party downstairs was still raging—cheap beer, shitty EDM, and too many people crammed into his parents’ living room. But I wasn’t going back
Chapter 4: Shadows and Surrender The crack outside the cabin window jolted me awake before dawn, my body still sore and marked from Damien’s relentless claiming the night before. I lay tangled in the heavy blankets, his arm draped possessively over my waist, his breath warm against my neck. For a
Chapter 3: Cabin Fever The family cabin loomed ahead like a trap wrapped in pine trees and fresh snow. Mom and Dad had insisted on the weekend getaway to bond us all together, but they bailed at the last minute with some excuse about a work emergency back in the city. Convenient. Or maybe suspicio
Chapter 2: Bound by the Secret The flash from Damien’s phone burned behind my eyelids long after he lowered the device. My knees still ached against the basement carpet, my lips felt swollen and raw, and the taste of him lingered on my tongue like a brand I could not wash away. I stared up at him,







