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AVERY POV

The creak upstairs froze us both.

Marcus’s thumb was still on my lip, my knees aching on the cold kitchen tile, the taste of him thick on my tongue. My heart hammered so hard I was sure it would wake the entire house. For one terrifying second, we just stared at each other—his cock still half-hard and glistening, my chin shiny with spit and cum, my panties clinging wetly to my swollen pussy.

Then his hand slid to my arm and he pulled me up fast, almost roughly. “Living room,” he growled under his breath. “Now.”

I didn’t argue. My legs were shaky as I followed him out of the kitchen, the faint moonlight spilling through the big windows giving just enough light to see. Marcus moved like a man who knew exactly how dangerous this was and couldn’t stop himself anyway. He didn’t bother with the couch. The second we were past the doorway he spun me around, pressing my back against the wall beside the television.

His mouth crashed down on mine before I could even gasp.

It wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t the careful man who had watched me in my bedroom or let me kneel for him in the kitchen. This was raw, desperate hunger. His tongue pushed between my lips, tasting himself on me, and I moaned into the kiss, hands fisting in his hair. He tasted like sin and midnight and everything I wasn’t supposed to want.

“Been thinking about this since I saw you fingering that tight little pussy,” he muttered against my mouth, voice gravel-rough. One big hand shoved my tank top up, palming my breast hard, thumb flicking over my nipple until I whimpered. “You have any idea how fucking hard it was not to drag you onto that bed right then?”

I couldn’t answer. My head was spinning. All I could do was arch into his touch, grinding against the thick thigh he shoved between my legs.

Marcus yanked my panties down in one rough tug. They caught around one ankle and I kicked them off frantically. Cool air hit my dripping folds and I shivered. He didn’t give me time to breathe. Two thick fingers dragged through my slickness, spreading it, then plunged inside me without warning.

I cried out—too loud. His free hand clamped over my mouth instantly.

“Quiet,” he hissed, eyes blazing as he pumped his fingers deep and fast, curling them against that spot that made my knees buckle. “You want your mother to hear what a dirty little slut her daughter is for her stepdad?”

The filthy words only made me wetter. I shook my head frantically, moaning against his palm as he finger-fucked me harder, the wet sounds obscenely loud in the dark living room. My hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing the pressure building inside me.

“Please,” I gasped when he finally let me breathe. “Marcus… I need you. Please fuck me.”

He pulled his fingers out and I whined at the loss. In one smooth motion he spun me around, bending me over the arm of the wide sectional couch. My cheek pressed into the cushions, ass up, back arched. I heard him shove his sweatpants the rest of the way down.

The thick head of his cock nudged against my entrance, hot and heavy.

“You sure, Avery?” His voice was strained, like he was barely holding on. “Once I’m inside you, there’s no going back.”

I pushed back against him, trying to take him in. “I’m sure. Please— I need it. I need you.”

With a low, broken groan, Marcus gripped my hips hard enough to bruise and thrust forward.

He buried himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke.

The stretch was overwhelming—burning, perfect, too much and not enough. I bit down on the cushion to muffle my scream as he bottomed out, his heavy balls pressed against my clit. He was so deep I felt him in my stomach.

“Fuck… so tight,” he growled, holding still for a heartbeat, letting me adjust. “Your pussy’s gripping me like it never wants to let go.”

Then he started moving.

Hard. Fast. Desperate.

Each thrust slammed into me, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the living room. He fucked me like a man possessed—deep, punishing strokes that rocked my entire body forward. One hand fisted in my hair, the other dug into my hip, holding me exactly where he wanted me.

I was lost. Moaning, gasping, pushing back to meet every brutal thrust. The angle had his cock dragging against my g-spot with every stroke, pleasure crashing through me in waves.

“Harder,” I begged, voice muffled by the cushion. “Please, Marcus— fuck me harder.”

He snarled and gave me what I asked for. His pace turned savage, hips snapping against my ass, cock pounding into me so deep I saw stars. The couch creaked dangerously beneath us. I could feel my orgasm building fast, coiling tight and hot in my belly.

Marcus reached around and found my clit, rubbing tight, rough circles.

“Come for me, baby,” he rasped, breath hot against my ear as he leaned over me. “Come on your stepdad’s cock like the filthy girl you are.”

That was all it took.

My orgasm slammed into me so hard my vision whited out. I cried out, body convulsing, pussy clenching and fluttering around his thick length as wave after wave crashed through me. Marcus fucked me through it, never slowing, drawing it out until I was shaking and whimpering.

Only when my climax started to fade did he let himself go.

With a guttural groan he buried himself deep one last time and came, flooding me with hot, thick pulses of cum. I felt every spurt, felt him marking me from the inside, and the thought made me shudder with aftershocks.

We stayed locked together, panting, his cock still twitching inside me as our breathing slowly evened out.

Then, from upstairs, the unmistakable sound of footsteps padding toward the bathroom.

Mom.

Marcus pulled out quickly, cum already starting to leak down my thighs. He yanked my tank top down and spun me to face him, eyes wild.

“Upstairs. Now. Quiet.”

I nodded, legs trembling as I grabbed my discarded panties and darted toward the stairs, his cum still dripping out of me with every step.

We barely made it back to our rooms before the hallway light flicked on.