Stepbrother secret (2)

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, heart slamming against my ribs, as he smirked down at me with that same arrogant tilt to his mouth he always wore after scoring on the ice.

“Delete that,” I rasped, my voice hoarse from what he had just done to me. I pushed myself up on shaky legs, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Shame flooded my chest, hot and choking, but underneath it simmered something else. Something that made my own hardness throb painfully in my jeans.

Damien chuckled low, the sound vibrating through the dim room. He did not delete anything. Instead, he tapped his screen a few more times, then slipped the phone into his pocket. “Why would I do that, Elias? This is leverage. You spill about what you saw with Tyler, and this little snapshot goes straight to the family group chat. Imagine Mom’s face when she sees her quiet little stepson choking on my cock.”

“You are sick,” I whispered, but the words lacked heat. My body betrayed me, still buzzing from the forced intimacy, from the way he had looked at me while I knelt there.

He stepped closer, crowding me against the couch again. His hand came up to grip my chin, tilting my face up so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. They were dark, pupils blown wide with leftover pleasure and something sharper. Possession. “Maybe I am. But you liked it. Do not lie to me. I felt you moaning around me like you had been starving for it.”

I jerked my head away, cheeks flaming. “This changes nothing. I still hate you.”

“Good.” Damien’s grin widened. He reached down and palmed the obvious bulge in my jeans, squeezing just hard enough to make me gasp. “Hate makes it hotter. Now get upstairs before I decide to bend you over that couch and really test how much you can take.”

I fled the basement like the coward I felt like, his laughter following me up the stairs. Sleep evaded me that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. The flex of his abs, the way his hand had fisted in my hair, the filthy words spilling from his lips. By morning, I had convinced myself it was a one-time mistake. A moment of weakness he would forget once the house filled with normal life again.

But Damien never forgot.

The next few days passed in a tense blur. Mom and Dad returned from their trip glowing and oblivious, chattering about how well we were all getting along as a blended family. Damien played the perfect son at dinner, laughing at Dad’s jokes and helping clear the table. But under the table, his foot would brush mine deliberately, or his eyes would lock on me across the food with a silent promise that made my stomach twist.

I avoided him as much as possible, burying myself in assignments for my online classes. On the third night, I thought I had succeeded. Until I woke to a heavy weight pressing me down into my mattress.

“Shh,” Damien murmured against my ear, his body pinning mine from behind. One hand clamped over my mouth, the other sliding under my shirt to pinch a nipple. “Parents are asleep down the hall. You scream and they wake up to find out what their boys have been doing.”

I bucked against him, but he was too strong, all solid muscle from hockey drills. His hardness pressed insistently against my ass through our thin sleep pants, hot and demanding. “What the hell are you doing?” I hissed when he loosened his grip on my mouth just enough.

“Collecting on our deal.” His voice was rough with sleep and lust. He ground against me slowly, letting me feel every inch. “You have been avoiding me, bookworm. That is not part of the arrangement. I say when and where, and you obey. Or that photo gets shared.”

I hated how my body responded, arching back into him despite myself. “This is insane. We are stepbrothers. If they find out”

“They will not. Not if you are quiet.” Damien nipped at my earlobe, then trailed kisses down my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark I would have to hide tomorrow. His hand dipped lower, shoving my pants down to free me. I was already leaking, shamefully hard. He wrapped his fingers around me and stroked once, twice, torturously slow. “See? Your cock does not hate me.”

“Damien” My protest dissolved into a moan as he twisted his wrist just right. I bit my pillow to muffle it, gripping the sheets.

He chuckled darkly. “That is what I want to hear.” In one swift move, he flipped me onto my back and straddled my hips. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting shadows over his bare chest. He looked like sin incarnate, hair tousled, eyes gleaming with triumph. “Tonight, I am going to fuck you properly. But first, you are going to beg for it.”

“I will not beg,” I shot back, even as my hips jerked up seeking friction.

He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand, leaning down until our faces were inches apart. His free hand teased my entrance with a spit-slick finger, circling but not pushing in. “You will. Tell me how much you need your stepbrother’s cock stretching you open. Tell me how you have been thinking about it since you watched me with Tyler.”

The words stuck in my throat at first. But he kept teasing, pressing the tip of his finger inside just enough to make me whimper. Years of buried tension, of stolen glances at his body after practice, of hating how much I wanted the one person I should not, all came crashing down.

“Please,” I finally gasped, voice breaking. “Damien, please. I need it. I need you inside me.”

His eyes flashed with dark satisfaction. “Good boy.” He reached for the lube he must have brought, slicking himself up quickly. Then he hooked my legs over his shoulders, folding me in half. The position left me exposed, vulnerable, and so turned on I could barely think.

He pushed in slowly at first, the burn intense and overwhelming. I cried out softly, and he covered my mouth again with his own, swallowing the sound in a bruising kiss. “So tight,” he growled against my lips. “Like you were made for this. For me.”

When he bottomed out, we both groaned. He did not give me time to adjust. His hips snapped forward, setting a punishing rhythm that shook the bedframe. Each thrust hit deep, sending sparks of pleasure-pain through me. I clung to his shoulders, nails digging into muscle, hating him and craving more all at once.

“Fuck, Elias,” he panted, forehead pressed to mine. “You feel better than anyone. Better than Tyler. This ass is mine now. Say it.”

“It is yours,” I moaned, the words tumbling out between thrusts. “Damien, harder. Please.”

He obliged, pounding into me with raw power. The room filled with the slap of skin, our ragged breaths, and whispered curses. Sweat slicked our bodies, making us slide together perfectly. He reached between us to stroke me in time with his movements, and I felt the edge approaching fast.

“I am close,” I warned, voice strained.

“Not yet.” He slowed suddenly, teasing, drawing it out until I was writhing beneath him. “You come when I say. And only after you admit you have wanted this as long as I have.”

My eyes widened. “You what?”

Damien’s laugh was breathless. He kissed me again, deep and filthy, before pulling back to look at me. “Do not act surprised. All those fights? The way I pushed you? It was the only way I could touch you without losing control. Now tell me.”

“I wanted it,” I confessed, the truth ripping free. “God, I hate you, but I wanted you so bad.”

That was all it took. He slammed back into his brutal pace, stroking me firmly. “Come for me, little stepbrother.”

I shattered first, spilling over his fist with a muffled cry. He followed seconds later, burying himself deep and filling me with heat, his body shuddering against mine. For a moment after, we just breathed together, tangled and spent.

But as he pulled out and rolled off me, reaching for his phone on the nightstand, his expression turned serious. “This does not end here. We are going to the family cabin next weekend. Alone. And I am going to ruin you there.”

I sat up, wincing at the soreness. “What if I say no?”

He showed me the screen. The photo from the basement, plus a new one he had apparently snapped while I was lost in pleasure just now. My face flushed, eyes glassy, his cock still buried inside me.

“You will not say no.” Damien leaned in, kissing me softly this time, almost tenderly. “Because deep down, you are already addicted.”

He slipped out of my room as quietly as he had come, leaving me alone with the mess, the marks on my skin, and the terrifying realization that he was right. I was addicted. And the real danger was only beginning.

But as I drifted toward sleep, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. It was a video. Grainy but clear. Damien in the basement with Tyler. And a message attached:

If you tell anyone about us, this goes viral. Keep being my good secret, and maybe I will let you watch me claim you in the cabin. See you soon, bookworm.

My blood ran cold. Someone else knew. And they were watching us too.