Chapter Three — Whispers in the Dark

Elara's POV

The footsteps of Victor faded down the hall a bit after, leaving me breathless in the silence of his bedroom. 

I turned away from him and ran down to my bedroom before he could hold me and stop me from leaving.

The door slammed shut. And I leaned heavily on it with my heart hammering hard against my rib cage in a wild rhythm that somehow matched the throb between my legs from where Damien had rubbed me through my jeans just minutes ago. 

God, his fingers—firm, insistent, like he owned every inch of me. 

"A tight little virgin you were, clenching around me like you were born for it." 

Those words echoed in my head, dirty and possessive, making my panties flood with wetness all over again. 

I pressed my thighs together, hating how my body craved more of that dark dominance, even as dread clawed at my chest from the decadence. 

He was my stepbrother, for fuck's sake. Though he was dangerous, with those shadows in his eyes that hinted at secrets that could shatter this fragile family if he truly tried to. 

I checked the door lock twice to be sure that it was locked. Damien seemed like the guy who could sneak into my bed while I was asleep.

Not like I wouldn't like that.

That night, sleep came with dark yet twisted dreams of his gray stare boring into me, devouring me.

Ones where his cock was thrusting deep into my cunt while I screamed his name without an iota of control.

I woke up gasping, fingers slipping inside myself to chase the ghost of him. My head arched back, mouth open as my moving fingers brought me climax.

Then, I fell back into a dreamless sleep for an hour or two, finally resting before he came back to haunt me.

His hands in my skin.

His voice calling me a wanton whore.

The rest of the weekend was exactly like this, filled with Damien. 

And there were times we crossed paths in that mansion. He would lean in and remind me of his cock. 

I knew what he was doing. He was teasing me until I wouldn't be able to bear it any longer and succumb.

Would I? Probably.

Monday came fast. 

The morning light which easily filtered through the curtains, pulled me from the haze of the usual dreams. 

Monday hit like a slap always, especially when the final year bullshit was just waiting for me there. 

I dressed quickly in my plaid skirt and white blouse, nothing too revealing. 

But the fabric somehow managed to brush over my sensitive skin, easily reminding me of his bites which were now hidden under concealer. 

He had cornered me in a spot between the kitchen and dining and ravished me with his hands and teeth.

Penetration hadn't occurred. But it would have happened if only Mom hadn't started calling for me to come down and lend her a hand.

I took one glance at the mirror.

“You'll be fine, Elara,” I whispered before I turned away.

Downstairs in the kitchen Mom was busy making coffee for Victor who was scanning his tablet and barking orders into his phone at his pitiful subordinates about some deal. 

Meanwhile, Damien sat at the island, suited up like the CEO he was—crisp shirt hugging his broad shoulders, tie knotted perfectly, exuding that controlled power that made my stomach flip. 

His eyes flicked to me, dark and knowing. That gray gaze traced the length of my legs under the skirt. 

Heat rushed to my face.

"Good morning," I muttered, grabbing a mug and avoiding his gaze.

Mom smiled brightly. 

"Elara, sweetie, Victor has meetings all day, and I'm running errands. Damien offered to drop you at school on his way to the office. Isn't that nice?"

My cup clattered on the table. I was thankful it hadn't fallen.

"What? No, I can take the bus."

She made to speak but it was Victor who beat her to it, the nosy thing.

"Nonsense," Victor cut in, not looking up. "He is heading downtown anyway. You know, families help each other."

I shook my head.

“I do not want to trouble anyone.”

Victor turned to Damien.

“Is that going to trouble you son? Dropping your sister off at school?”

I knew what he would say even before his luscious lips moved in speech.

"It is no trouble at all." 

His voice was smooth. 

But under the table, his shoe nudged my ankle—a deliberate tease, sending hot sparks right up my thigh.

Damien's lips curved slightly, that cold politeness masking the predator.

Breakfast blurred as I picked at toast with my mind spiraling. 

Does he plan to pull over, pin me in the car and fuck me right there?

Dread mixed with my filthy want—his dominance calling to that slutiness he had awakened inside of me. 

Yet denial screamed no even as my nipples hardened against my bra.

We left soon after, his sleek black car purring in the driveway. I slid into the passenger seat with my skirt riding up slightly in the process. 

His eyes dropped to the exposed flesh for about a few minutes. He started the engine and pulled out smoothly.

The city blurred by in the heavy silence that hung thickly with tension. 

His cologne filled the space—the scent of spice and sin, the same redolence from that night. My core clenched around nothing, aching for him.

"You were bold last night," he said finally with eyes on the road. "Shoving me away, but your pussy wept for it."

I gasped, my cheeks burning. "Shut up. That was a mistake."

He chuckled darkly. 

"Mistake? You came undone on my fingers in minutes. Imagine what my cock would do now, slut." 

The filthy word was twisted, forbidden.

But he was right, I would have come undone had Mom not called me.

I swallowed.

"You're sick." 

But my voice shook, thighs pressing together. School loomed ahead. The drive felt endless. He turned a sharp corner, pulled into a quiet side of the street and left the engine idling.

"What are you—" I started, panic rising in my chest when he leaned over.

His hand gripped my thigh firmly, sliding up under the skirt. 

"Seeing if you are still wet for me," he whispered just before his fingers found my panties which were damp already. 

He groaned low. 

"Fuck, you are soaked. At least your body's honest, even if you deny it."

I whimpered, grabbing his wrist to stop him. But he didn't pull away. 

His thumb circled my clit then through the fabric in a slow torture. Pleasure spiked in me, dark and addictive. 

"Stop... someone might see."

He smirked.

"That's the thrill." 

He pushed the panties aside, and one finger dipped in shallow, teasing my entrance. "Tight as ever.”

Emotions clashed in my head like world war—shame, want, fear. 

He was power personified here as he simply reduced me to this panting mess, hips bucking for more. 

And I spread my legs wider for him while still hating myself. "Harder," I whispered, dirty minded like him.

He added another finger, pumping my cunt deeply. His thumb was moving relentlessly on my swollen clit. 

"Good girl. Beg for your stepbrother's touch," he teased. 

His free hand fisted my hair, pulling my head back, mouth claiming mine in a brutal kiss—his tongue invading my mouth, tasting my surrender.

I moaned into him, my organs building fast with my core tightening. 

School was forgotten now.

The only thing I knew fully was just his dominance and the risk of getting caught in between all of this. 

My fears came to pass.

A car horn blared nearby, jolting us apart instantly. He pulled back, his fingers slipping out slick, leaving my pussy throbbing on the edge.

"Time for class," he said, smirking coldly, licking his fingers clean. "Think of me while you sit there, aching."

He drove the rest of the way without uttering a single word.

Neither did I.

We arrived soon, and I stumbled out with shaky legs, fixing my skirt. 

“Focus on the lessons.”

Then he was gone.

“Bastard,” I murmured under my breath, because how did he expect I would concentrate after that?

The school gates loomed ahead. I composed myself and rushed in just as the late bell began ringing. 

Classes dragged—math, history. It was all a blur inside of my head.

My mind was filthy, filled to the brim with flashbacks of his fingers, and his fat cock in my dreams. 

At lunch, my friends chattered while I zoned out and daydreamed with my thighs clenched under the table. 

A text made my phone buzz. I checked and it was an unknown number: "Can't wait to finish what I started. -D"

Dread hit me instantly because how did he even get my number? 

Disappointed? No.

Dangerous, yes. 

What secrets did he hide? Victor's whispers echoed in my head.

“If Damien finds out…”

What was he hiding?

“Have you done your assignments?” One of my friends asked.

I shook my head. 

“I have a plan for that.” She nodded. They all knew what it was.

I texted a classmate, Jake, flirting harmlessly to distract him. 

"Hey, study later?" His reply was quick, making me smile faintly.

He was my assignment plan. I would just make him do it for me.

Afternoon classes were worse; PE had me sweating and hyperaware. 

But it was over soon.

The mansion was quiet when I was finally home. Mom was out running errands and Victor was at work. 

Damien's car was in the drive—early from the office? I assumed.

I crept in to avoid him. But I was not successful because he waited for me in the kitchen, loosening his tie.

"Welcome home, my little slut," he said in a voice that was like velvet.

I froze. 

“I've been waiting for you.”

My brows rose.

"What do you want?"

He wanted to speak but was distracted by my phone which buzzed.

I dragged it out to look and he just snatched it from my hands.

“Damien!” I protested, stamping my feet in anger. “Give that back.”

His eyes narrowed at my phone which was still buzzing with Jake's text. 

"Flirting with boys? After I had you first?" He raised his head. Jealousy flashed dark, possessive. 

He cornered me against the counter, body hard against mine. 

"You're mine now."

His hand slid up my skirt again, fingers finding me wetter than before. 

"This pussy remembers." 

He rubbed rough circles, edging me cruelly. I gasped, clawing at his shirt, the dominance intoxicating.

But footsteps reached me—Mom's high heels clicking. He stepped back and left me panting hard.

“We'll talk later.”

He handed me my phone and walked away from my heaving self. I was left there, denied yet another much needed orgasm, again.

Upstairs later, I snuck into his room because I needed his cock.

But he wasn't there.

Though his drawers were open slightly and a file peeked out.

Curiosity ate away at me when I tried to just back up and leave.

I took the file.

Blackwood Enterprises was written in bold letters at the top.

My eyes darted to the open notebook sitting right on his bed.

There were notes on "rival syndicate" and "leverage on Victor." They were tied to danger? My heart raced.

I heard footsteps and rushed out of the room and right back to mine.

My heart was thumping hard when I leaned against the closed door.

The phone in my hand buzzing nearly gave me a cardiac arrest. It was only a text message from Damien.

"See you at midnight by the pool house or I will come for you."

Fear gripped me. But so did a filthy anticipation. What game was this? 

I didn't know.

The clock was ticking toward ruin.