Chapter 6 Brother's Secret Claim

I couldn't believe how quickly things had spiralled after that night with Richard in the study. My stepfather's hands on me, his cock buried deep inside my pussy while he whispered those filthy promises of possession—it had left me aching for more, even as guilt twisted in my gut like a knife. But guilt was just another layer to my deception, wasn't it? The innocent little uni girl who batted her eyelashes and played the dutiful daughter. No one suspected the cravings that burned beneath, the way I'd sneak glances at Ethan, my stepbrother, across the breakfast table, wondering how his broad shoulders would feel pinning me down.

Ethan was twenty-five, two years older than me, with that tousled dark hair and piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see right through my facade. He'd been away on some business trip for the family firm, but now he was back, striding into the manor like he owned it—which, in a way, he did. Our parents' divorce had left Richard in charge, but Ethan was the golden boy, the one groomed to take over. And me? I was the wildcard, the stepdaughter who fluttered about in short skirts and sheer blouses, pretending not to notice how his gaze lingered on my tits when he thought no one was watching.

It was a humid afternoon in late summer, the kind where the air clung to your skin like a lover's sweat. I'd just come back from a jog through the estate grounds, my sports bra soaked and clinging to my curves, leggings plastered to my thighs. I headed straight for the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, not bothering to change. The house was quiet—Richard was at the office, Mum was off at her yoga retreat—and I assumed Ethan was out too. But as I twisted the cap off the bottle, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Looking good out there, Delilah," Ethan's voice rumbled, low and teasing. I turned, feigning surprise, and there he was, leaning against the doorframe in his fitted shirt and jeans that hugged his muscular legs. His eyes raked over me, from my flushed cheeks down to the sweat trickling between my breasts.

"Oh, Ethan! You're back early." I smiled sweetly, tilting my head like the innocent girl he remembered from before uni. But inside, my pulse quickened. I'd caught him staring before, felt the tension when we'd brush past each other in the hallway. Now, with Richard's cum still a secret memory on my skin from last week, I wondered if Ethan could smell the slut in me.

He pushed off the frame and sauntered closer, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter. "Yeah, wrapped up sooner than expected. Missed the old place." His gaze dropped to my chest again, and I didn't miss the way his jaw tightened. "You too, by the looks of it. All grown up and... sweaty."

I laughed lightly, taking a sip of water, letting a drop spill down my chin and onto my collarbone. "Jogging helps clear the head. Uni's been stressful." Lie. Uni was a playground for my indiscretions—quick fucks in dorm rooms, professors who bent me over desks—but home was where the real game was.

Ethan bit into the apple, chewing slowly as he watched me. "Stressful, huh? You need to unwind properly. Not this... solo stuff." There was an edge to his words, possessive, like he was staking a claim without saying it outright.

My heart thudded. Was he jealous? Of what, exactly? He couldn't know about Richard, could he? I'd been careful, slipping away under the cover of night, muffling my moans into pillows as my stepfather fucked me senseless. But Ethan's eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne mixed with the faint musk of travel.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, voice breathy, playing coy. I leaned back against the counter, arching my back just enough to push my tits forward.

He set the apple down, unfinished, and closed the distance. His hand came up, thumb brushing the water droplet from my skin, lingering there. "Means you've been teasing me for weeks, little sis. Batting those lashes, wearing those tiny outfits. Think I don't notice?"

The word 'sis' sent a forbidden thrill through me. Step-sis, technically, but it didn't make the taboo any less delicious. I bit my lip, looking up at him through my lashes. "Teasing? Me? I'm just being myself, Ethan."

He chuckled, dark and knowing. "Yourself is a fucking temptress. And I'm done pretending I don't want to bend you over this counter and show you what you've been asking for."

Heat pooled between my legs, my pussy clenching at the raw hunger in his voice. This was it—the betrayal I'd craved, pitting brother against father in my web of lust. But I had to play it slow, keep the innocence. "Ethan, we can't... what about Dad? Mum?"

His hand slid to my waist, gripping hard, pulling me flush against him. I felt his cock hardening through his jeans, thick and insistent against my stomach. "Dad's not here. And Mum's gone for days. This is between us, Delilah. You've been mine since the day you walked back into this house."

Possessive. Just like Richard. The thought made me wetter, my nipples peaking against the damp fabric of my bra. I gasped as he leaned down, lips brushing my ear. "Tell me you don't want it. Tell me, and I'll walk away."

But I couldn't. Instead, I whispered, "I... I do. But we have to be careful."

That was all he needed. In one swift move, Ethan spun me around, pressing my front against the cool marble of the counter. His body covered mine, hard and unyielding, as his hands yanked down my leggings, exposing my arse to the air. No panties—another deliberate choice for the jog. He groaned at the sight, palming the cheeks, spreading them slightly.

"Fucking hell, look at you. Dripping already?" His fingers slid between my thighs, finding my slick folds. I moaned, pushing back against him as he circled my clit, rough and demanding. "This pussy's been waiting for me, hasn't it? All that innocence is just a lie."

"Yes," I whimpered, the word escaping before I could stop it. His touch was electric, two fingers plunging inside me without warning, stretching me, fucking me in short, hard thrusts. The squelch of my wetness filled the kitchen, obscene and thrilling.

"Say it properly," he growled, his free hand tangling in my hair, pulling my head back so he could nip at my neck. "Tell your brother what a slut you are."

The dirty talk ignited something feral in me. "I'm a slut for you, Ethan. Please... fuck me. Claim me like you own me."

He didn't need more encouragement. I heard the zip of his jeans, the rustle of fabric, and then the hot, blunt head of his cock pressed against my entrance. He teased me there, rubbing up and down my slit, coating himself in my juices. "Beg for it, Delilah. Beg your big brother to fill this tight little cunt."

"Please, Ethan! Fuck me hard. I need your cock inside me!" The words tumbled out, desperate and raw, as I wiggled my arse against him.

With a grunt, he slammed home, burying every inch in one brutal thrust. I cried out, the fullness overwhelming, his thickness stretching me wider than I'd imagined. He was bigger than Richard, hitting deeper, and the thought of comparing them in my mind only heightened the betrayal. Ethan didn't hold back; he gripped my hips, bruisingly tight, and started pounding into me, the counter digging into my stomach with each snap of his hips.

"That's it, take it. This pussy's mine now," he rasped, his balls slapping against my clit with every drive. Sweat dripped from his brow onto my back, mixing with mine. I reached between my legs, rubbing my swollen nub frantically, chasing the building pressure.

The kitchen echoed with our filth—my moans, his grunts, the wet smack of skin on skin. He leaned over me, one hand sliding up to squeeze my tit through the bra, pinching the nipple until I yelped. "You like that, don't you? Getting fucked like the dirty step-sister you are. Bet you've dreamed of this, spreading your legs for family cock."

"God, yes! Harder, Ethan! Make me cum on your dick!" I was lost in it, the slow burn of tension from weeks of glances exploding into this raw claiming. His pace quickened, relentless, and I felt him swell inside me, throbbing against my walls.

"Gonna fill you up, mark you as mine," he warned, voice strained. His hand left my hair to cover my mouth, muffling my screams as the orgasm crashed over me. My pussy clenched around him, milking his cock as waves of pleasure ripped through me, my legs shaking, vision blurring.

Ethan followed seconds later, burying deep and roaring his release. Hot spurts of cum flooded me, painting my insides, leaking out around his shaft as he kept thrusting through it. We stayed like that, panting, his weight pressing me down until he finally pulled out, a gush of our mixed fluids dripping down my thighs.

He turned me gently, kissing me then—deep, possessive, his tongue claiming my mouth like his cock had claimed my body. "This isn't a one-off, Delilah. You're mine now. No one else's."

I nodded, feigning submission even as my mind raced with plans. Richard would notice the change in me, the glow. And when he did? The real game would begin. But for now, I melted into Ethan's arms, the perfect little sister, hiding the insatiable slut beneath.

That evening, as we cleaned up separately—me in the shower, scrubbing away the evidence but savouring the ache between my legs—Ethan texted me: Meet me in the garage later. Round two.

I smiled at my reflection, water cascading over my naked body. The manor held so many secrets, and I was weaving them all into my web. But as I dried off and slipped into a silk robe, leaving nothing underneath, I couldn't shake the thrill of what came next. Ethan thought he had me. Richard thought he did too. Little did they know, I was the one pulling the strings.

The garage was dimly lit, tools and cars shrouded in shadows. Ethan was waiting, shirtless, his jeans low on his hips, revealing the V of muscle leading down to where I knew his cock waited, hard again. He pulled me inside, locking the door, and pushed me against the workbench, the scent of oil and metal mixing with our arousal.

"Missed this already," he murmured, hands roaming under my robe, cupping my bare arse. He lifted me onto the bench, spreading my legs wide, exposing my still-swollen pussy to his hungry gaze.

"Then take it," I challenged, voice husky. "Fuck your sister like you mean it."

He dropped to his knees, no hesitation, burying his face between my thighs. His tongue lapped at me, broad strokes over my folds, delving inside to taste the remnants of our earlier fuck. I gripped his hair, grinding against his mouth as he sucked my clit, teeth grazing just enough to make me buck.

"Taste so fucking good," he mumbled against me, the vibration sending shocks up my spine. Two fingers joined his tongue, curling to hit that spot inside, pumping steadily while he devoured me.

I came fast, unexpectedly, thighs clamping around his head as I shuddered, flooding his mouth with my release. He drank it down, groaning, before standing and freeing his cock. It sprang out, veined and leaking pre-cum, and he rubbed it against my slickness.

"Ready for more?" he asked, but it wasn't a question. He thrust in, slower this time, savouring the slide, my walls gripping him like a vice.

We moved together, my legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his back as he fucked me deep and deliberate. The bench creaked under us, tools rattling, but we didn't care. His mouth found my neck, sucking marks that I'd have to hide, branding me.

"You're so tight, Delilah. Made for this—for me," he panted, hips rolling to grind his pubic bone against my clit.

"Yes, all for you," I lied sweetly, another orgasm building as his cock dragged over every sensitive inch. When I came again, it pulled him under, his thrusts erratic, cum erupting inside me once more, hot and claiming.

Afterwards, we collapsed in a heap on the garage floor, his head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. "I love you," he whispered, the words heavy with possession.

"I love you too," I replied, meaning the game, the thrill, the power. But as he dozed, I slipped away, robe tied loosely, cum trickling down my leg. Upstairs, in my room, I texted Richard: Miss you, Daddy. Home alone tonight?

The betrayals were stacking, each one feeding my cravings. Ethan thought he had my heart; Richard had my body. But I? I had them both, dancing on the edge of discovery, and the fall would be exquisite.

The next morning, breakfast was a minefield of stolen glances. Ethan sat across from me, his foot nudging mine under the table, a secret smile playing on his lips. Richard entered late, kissing my cheek—lingering just a second too long—his hand brushing my lower back as he passed.

"Sleep well, princess?" Richard asked, eyes twinkling with memory.

"Like a baby," I said, innocent as ever, while Ethan's gaze burned into me.

The tension was delicious, a slow simmer ready to boil over. And I was the flame.