MasukI wake to the sound of Logan moving quietly around the bedroom. Logan is already dressed in dark jeans and a brown button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He glances over when he hears me stir.“Good Morning,” he says, voice low.“Morning.” I sit up, sheet pooling around my waist.“Does it hurt?”I shake my head. “Feels kind of good, actually.”A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “We should talk about last night.”I pull my knees to my chest. “Okay.”Logan sits on the edge of the bed. “I’ve never brought anyone into this part of my life before. Not like this. The clients stay clients. They pay, they leave, and that’s it. You’re different. You live here. You’re… family, technically.”The word makes both of us wince.“I don’t feel like your sister,” I say quietly.“Good. Because what I want to do to you has nothing to do with being siblings.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But we need rules. For both our sakes.”I nod. “Tell me.”“First, this s
I wake to the sound of Logan breathing beside me.His arm is wrapped over my waist, heavy and warm, fingers curled loosely against my stomach. Morning light filters through the blinds and paints soft stripes across his bare chest. For a moment I lie perfectly still, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, trying to convince myself that last night was just another dream. But the ache between my legs and the dried stickiness on my inner thighs tell me otherwise. I slept with my stepbrother. I let him fuck me on his bed after I found the ropes and cuffs and the notebook full of client notes. And the worst part is, I want to do it again.Logan stirs when I try to slip out from under his arm. His eyes open, storm-gray and unreadable in the early light. For a heartbeat I think he is going to pull away, pretend last night never happened, go back to being the quiet stepbrother who keeps his distance. Instead his hand slides up my side, palm warm against my skin.“Morning,” he says, v
Logan left earlier than expected. By mid-afternoon I am restless. I clean the kitchen even though it does not need cleaning, reorganize the books on the living room shelf, and fold laundry that is already folded.I stand in the hallway for a full minute, listening to the quiet house. Then I reach for the handle.The door opens with a soft click.Logan’s room is neat. A queen bed with dark gray sheets sits against the far wall, the comforter still rumpled from last night. A desk holds a laptop, a second monitor, and a few scattered papers. A dresser stands in the corner, drawers closed. The only personal touch is a single framed photo on the nightstand… Logan and Richard at some outdoor event.I step inside and close the door behind me. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I know I should not be here. I know this is crossing a line. But I cannot stop myself from moving toward the bed, from running my fingers over the sheets.I open the top drawer of his dresser. T-sh
The morning after feels heavier than the ones before it. I wake tangled in sheets that are too warm, my skin still flushed from what I did in the dark. My fingers remember the rhythm they followed while Logan’s moans slipped through the wall, and the memory makes my stomach twist with something that is equal parts shame and want. I lie still for a long moment, listening to the quiet house, before I force myself out of bed and into the shower.Hot water does nothing to wash away the images in my head. I keep seeing the way Logan’s shoulders must have flexed, the way his hand must have moved, the way his voice sounded when he finally let go. I press my forehead against the cool tile and breathe through the ache between my legs. This has to stop. I cannot keep listening. I cannot keep touching myself to the sound of my stepbrother coming.By the time I dress and make it to the kitchen, Logan is already gone. A note sits on the counter in neat handwriting.Early meeting. Left coffee in th
Morning light filters through the blinds in thin stripes across my bed. I shower quickly, dress in jeans and a soft gray sweater, and head to the kitchen. The smell of coffee greets me first. Logan stands at the counter in black sweatpants and a faded black T-shirt, pouring himself a mug. His hair is still damp from the shower. When he turns, his eyes meet mine for a brief second before sliding away.“Morning,” he says. His voice is rough.“Morning.” I move to the cabinet and pull down a mug. “Thanks for the coffee.”He nods once and steps aside so I can pour. The kitchen feels smaller with both of us in it. My hand trembles slightly as I lift the mug to my lips. I hope he does not notice.We stand in silence for a moment, the only sounds are the hum of the refrigerator and the distant traffic outside. I want to say something, anything, to break the tension, but every sentence I think of sounds stupid in my head. How was your night? Did you sleep well? I heard you jerking off through
I never expected to share a house with Logan Parker, but here I am, standing in the middle of a living room that still smells like fresh paint and the lemon cleaner the movers used. The lease on my old apartment expired two weeks after Mom and Richard’s wedding, and suddenly the only spare room in the city belonged to my brand-new stepbrother. Richard offered before Mom even finished the sentence, and I said yes because rent in this city eats paychecks for breakfast.Logan stands by the window with his hands in his pockets, watching the movers carry the last box up the driveway. He is twenty-six, three years older than me, and he has barely said ten words since I arrived this morning. Tall, broad through the shoulders, dark hair that falls across his forehead when he tilts his head. He wears a plain gray T-shirt and jeans that fit like they were made for him. Quiet. Always quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you wonder what he is thinking and whether you really want to know.“Last one
Life didn’t feel exciting anymore since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend Theo. Theo was one of the men who made me feel good, the kind that made my legs tremble and made my body react without control. But now that he’s gone, I feel like nothing but a dry pond. I tried hanging out with strangers but
The rays of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, warming my face. I blinked slowly as my eyes fluttered open. For a moment I simply stared at the ceiling, my mind still foggy with sleep.My gaze drifted around the room, confusion settling over me as I realized something was wrong.This wa
“Fuck…” I moaned as his lips brushed against mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth and stealing the air from my lungs. My fingers clutched at his shoulders as my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured against my lips, his voice rough
“Pour me your strongest alcohol.” I said to the bartender as his eyes widened with surprise. My fingers tapped impatiently on the counter while the loud music in the bar thumped against my ears.“You have drank up to five bottles and you want another bottle,” he said.I leaned forward slightly, my







