登入NYRA'S POV
He thrust forward, burying himself deep inside me in one rough, claiming push. I cried out sharply, the intense stretch burning sharp at first, but god... it felt so full, so right, even though it hurt a little. Luca froze on top of me, breathing hard like he was fighting himself again. “Fuck, Nyra... you’re too tight,” he growled, voice all wrecked. “Breathe, baby. Relax that tight little pussy around my cock. You’re taking your stepbrother so fucking well already. Just breathe through it for me.” I whimpered, nodding desperately as tears pricked my eyes. “It’s so big… Luca… it hurts but… oh god, it feels so deep.” “That’s my good girl,” he praised, kissing me deep and slow while staying buried to the hilt. His hands stroked my sides even as his hips started moving in those slow, deep strokes that made my toes curl and my heart ache with years of forbidden wanting. Every thrust hit spots I didn’t even know existed, sending sparks shooting through my whole body. “Fuck, Nyra. Look at me while I fuck you. Watch your stepbrother ruin this virgin cunt that’s been dripping for him for years.” I moaned loudly, nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure and confusing emotions crashed over me. “Luca… yes… it feels so good… don’t stop, please don’t stop.” My voice was broken and needy, but I couldn’t hold back. He picked up the pace, hips slamming harder, guiding my legs higher around his waist. “Wrap them tighter, baby. Let me get deeper inside this greedy pussy. Yeah, just like that. This tight cunt was made for my cock, wasn’t it? So wet and hot, sucking me in like a desperate little slut for her stepbrother.” His dirty words mixed with rough praise made me clench around him even harder. One hand squeezed my breast hard, pinching and twisting my nipple while the other gripped my hip possessively. “Moan louder for me, Nyra. Let the whole house hear how much you love getting fucked by me.” I couldn’t hold back. Moans spilled out louder with every deep thrust. “Luca… oh fuck… harder… please! Fuck me harder!” My body shook as another orgasm built fast and intense, tears slipping down my cheeks from the overwhelming mix of pleasure, shame, and years of hidden pain. He flipped me suddenly onto my knees, face pressed into his pillow that smelled so much like him. He gripped my hips hard and thrust back in from behind, even deeper this way. “Push back on my cock, baby. Show me how bad you need it. Fuck yourself on your stepbrother’s dick like the desperate little whore you are.” I did, rocking back against him desperately, moaning loudly into the pillow as he railed me with everything he had. His hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back. “That’s it. Take every thick inch. This pussy is mine tonight. Say it while I fuck you.” “Yours… it’s yours, Luca!” I gasped between loud moans, lost in the feeling and the heartbreaking intensity of finally having him. The pleasure crashed over me so hard I saw stars. I came clenching around him violently, crying out his name again and again as waves of ecstasy rolled through me, mixed with stupid tears because I knew this would probably destroy me. He didn’t stop, pounding through my orgasm, his balls slapping against me. “Good girl… come all over my cock. Milk me with that tight pussy. Fuck, you feel incredible. So perfect and wet for me.” With a deep, guttural groan he finally buried himself to the hilt and came hard, spilling deep inside me while murmuring filthy sweet things against my neck. “Take all my cum, baby… you’re mine, Nyra. Fucking mine.” We collapsed together, bodies tangled, sweaty and sticky, breathing ragged. For one brief, stupid, perfect moment it felt like everything had finally changed between us. Like maybe he felt it too. But then reality hit like a slap. Luca pulled out and rolled off me fast, like I had burned him. He sat on the edge of the bed, back to me, running his hands through his hair. The silence stretched thick and ugly. “Get dressed,” he said, voice cold again. “This never happened.” My chest tightened. “Luca... what? We just...” He stood up, yanking his pants on without looking at me. “You’re my stepsister, Nyra. This was a mistake. A stupid fucking mistake.” His words cut deep. No warmth, no soft aftercare, just that wall slamming back up. “Go back to your room, and don’t ever pull shit like this again.” Tears burned my eyes as I grabbed my clothes, hands shaking. Shame crashed over me, mixing with the leftover heat. I felt used, dirty, and so damn stupid. “I hate you,” I whispered, but it was a lie. That just made it hurt more. He didn’t answer. I left crying, replaying everything. After that weekend, everything changed. Luca went back to keeping his distance even harder, barely in the same room with me. Those cold stares returned, maybe colder. I tried acting normal around the family, smiling my perfect smile, but inside I was messed up. The obsession didn’t die... it twisted into something heavier. Resentment mixed with longing. I caught him watching me sometimes when he thought I wasn’t looking, but he never said shit. Never touched me again. I threw myself into school, got accepted to a good program abroad. Leaving felt like the only way to breathe. Mom and George thought it was great for my future. Luca didn’t say a word when I announced it at dinner... just gave me that hard look and left the table early. Part of me hoped he’d stop me, tell me not to go, he didn’t. So I left, telling myself it was over. New country, new start. I’d forget him. But I didn’t, not really. The years passed... studies, new friends, trying to date normal guys who never measured up. The memories of that night haunted me in the quiet moments... his hands, his voice, the way he’d lost control for me. I buried it deep, built a new version of myself. Polished, independent, less rebellious on the outside. When I came back, I did it with a different last name for work stuff, a fresh identity to keep things clean. Landed a job that looked perfect on paper. Then... the marriage. It happened fast. He was nice enough, stable, from a good family. Mom pushed it hard, saying it would ground me when I came back lost and drifting with no clear path. At the time I had no real choice… the family pressure, the financial weight, everything made refusing feel impossible. I said yes because it felt like the only safe path left. Safe from the chaos and heartbreak Luca brought out in me. Safe from feeling too much. But safe didn’t mean happy. And now… A hot, wet tongue traced the shell of my ear, slow and deliberate. Luca’s breath ghosted over the damp skin, sending a shiver straight down my spine. I jolted back to the present, heart slamming. We weren’t in the past anymore. I was still in the tiny guest bathroom, gripping the sink, cold water dripping from my hands. Luca’s body pressed close behind me, trapping me against the counter. His scent wrapped around me again. My face felt flushed, thighs pressed tight together from the memories. “You really think I believe that bullshit about you being happy?” he murmured, voice low and rough right against my ear. Anger flared up hot and sudden, mixing with the ache his closeness dragged back up. I spun around to face him, eyes narrowing. “Happy? You have the nerve to ask that after everything?” My voice came out shaky but sharp. “You didn’t even come to my wedding, Luca. Not even showed up, not a call, not a message... nothing. You just disappeared like I was some dirty secret you wanted to forget.” His jaw tightened. For a second something raw flashed in his eyes… pain, regret, something deeper he wasn’t saying. It made my stomach twist. Footsteps approached. “Babe? You okay in there?” Richard’s voice called out. Luca leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Tell him you’re fine.” His hand squeezed my hip teasingly. “I’m… I’m good,” I called back, voice shaky. “Just catching up.” Richard chuckled. “Alright, don’t take too long. Food’s getting cold.” We returned to the dinner table. Richard soon brought up his business. “Man, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my business. It’s going through a rough patch right now…” I cut in fast. “Richard, not now. We don’t need to bring that up here. We don’t need your help, Luca.” But he insisted. “Babe, please. Luca’s good with this stuff. Suppliers pulling out, cash flow’s a mess and almost going down,one I could really use your help.” Luca leaned back, eyes flicking between us. He already seemed to know the situation. “I can check it out. No promises though, I don’t fully trust how things are being run over there.” Mom jumped in. “Luca, you’ve always been the one who fixes things in the family. Please help them, it would mean a lot.” Luca’s gaze shifted to me. “What do I get in return?” Mom didn’t hesitate. “Nyra has been looking for a job since we got back and you haven’t found a secretary yet. She can start working for you, keep it in the family and help Richard too.” I tensed. “Mom, no. I don’t want to do that.” Luca locked eyes with me. “Yes, you can work with me, Nyra. It makes sense. I’ll make sure it’s worth your time.” Richard nodded, relieved. “Babe, it could be good. At least temporary.” I felt trapped. “Fine,” I said bitterly. “I’ll do it. But just until things get better for us.” Luca’s eyes flashed satisfied. “Good. Don’t be late to the office tomorrow morning. I like my secretaries punctual.” The rest of dinner dragged on with forced small talk. My mind spun between the past and this dangerous new reality.NYRA’S POV Clara found me in the break room on a Monday, and I knew immediately from the set of her shoulders that this was not going to be the gentle, careful version of the conversation we had had weeks ago. “Sit down a second,” she said, closing the door behind her. Something in her voice left no real room to say no. I sat. She pulled the other chair around to face me directly instead of standing at a comfortable distance the way she had before, and studied my face a long moment. Her expression was unreadable in a way that made my stomach drop. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t see it anymore,” she said finally. “The sick days. The sleeves. The way you’ve started flinching when someone reaches past you too fast, even just to grab a stapler. I gave you weeks, Nyra. I told you I wouldn’t push, and I meant that, and I’ve kept my word. But I watched you wince this morning putting your bag on your own shoulder, and I’m done pretending I don’t understand exactly what that means.” “C
NYRA’S POVRichard picked me up like he said he would, and dropped me off the next morning like he said he would, and by the third day of it I had started to understand that this was not really about worry at all.It was a leash.A polite, gentle, well-dressed leash, but a leash all the same. Soft voice in the car. Hand on mine at the curb. Texts at eleven and at two and at four, just checking in, hope the day’s going okay. Every one of them a small reminder that he knew where I was supposed to be, and when, and how long it should take me to get from one door to the next. I did not have the energy left to fight it outright. So I did what I had gotten so good at doing lately.I found the gaps.The gap that week was a Thursday. Richard had a call with Feldman that ran long, some new wrinkle in the fraud referral that had him distracted and short with me over dinner. When he said he needed to swing by the lawyer’s office again after, alone, I told him I would just take a cab home wheneve
RICHARD’S POVShe didn’t come home.I sat up most of the night on the couch, phone in my hand, watching the screen for a text that never came, rehearsing apologies I wasn’t sure I’d even get the chance to give. By two in the morning I’d convinced myself something had happened to her. That maybe I’d actually done something worse than I remembered doing. The whole night was already blurring at the edges in that particular way where shame starts editing memory before you’ve even finished living it.By four, I knew where she was. I didn’t need her to tell me. There was only one place she’d go.The irony sat in my mouth like metal. I had spent months building a case against her in my head. Late nights. Soft answers. His name too easy on her tongue. And the whole time I had my own nights I never accounted for. A woman from the industry circuit. Hotel bars after conferences. A number saved under a supplier’s name. I had told myself it didn’t count the same way. That men under pressure did wh
NYRA’S POV I did not go home. I sat in the garage under the office building with the engine off until the lot emptied around me, until the security guard’s second pass made me feel watched, until the only place left that did not belong to Richard was the one place I kept telling myself I should not go. My face still ached under the makeup. My wrist throbbed when I turned the wheel too far. Every time I thought about the driveway, the lit windows, the apology text I had deleted without answering, my hands went cold on the steering wheel. I could not do another night of locked doors and careful breathing through the wall. I texted Luca from the dark car. Nyra: Can I come over. Three dots. Then nothing. Then: Luca: Yes. Always. I stared at the words until they blurred. Always. Like it was simple. Like I was not still wearing a ring and a layer of concealer thick enough to lie under office lights. His building was quieter than ours. Different side of the city. No shared driveway.
NYRA’S POV I stood in front of the bathroom mirror at six in the morning with a face that looked nothing like the one I needed to walk into that office wearing. The bruise along my cheekbone had bloomed overnight into something darker than I expected. Purple shading into a sick yellow-green at the edges. My wrist, when I turned it carefully under the light, showed a matching set of finger-shaped marks I would have to keep covered for at least another week. I stood there a long time just looking at myself. At the wreckage of a face that still had to go sit across a desk from Luca in four hours and give a convincing performance of nothing being wrong. I had slept maybe two hours, curled on the guest bed with the door locked. Richard’s apologies had gone quiet sometime after midnight, when he finally gave up and went to bed himself. I had not spoken to him again. I waited until I heard his breathing even out through the wall, then crept to my own room to shower, moving carefully, cata
NYRA’S POV I sat in the driveway a long time, my hands still shaking on the wheel, and told myself I should just drive. But my phone was inside, charging on the kitchen counter, and some stubborn, practical part of me refused to leave without it. Refused to be the kind of woman who ran off into the night with no way to call anyone if something went wrong. I went back in. He was still in the living room. He had not moved much from where I left him. His head turned fast at the sound of the lock. Something in his face already re-ignited the second he saw me standing there again. “I thought I told you to go.” “I forgot my phone. I’m not staying.” I kept my voice even, moving quickly toward the kitchen. “Of course.” He followed me, close behind, his voice climbing already. “Can’t even manage a clean exit. Typical.” “Richard, I’m just getting my phone.” “Is that what you’re getting? Or are you looking for an excuse to keep managing me a little longer?” I found the phone, unplugged







