Step-Brother's Greedy Cock

My hand wrapped around my aching cock, already hard and leaking. I stroked slowly, savoring the drag of skin on skin.

"Mmm..."

A low moan escaped before I could stop it. I slapped my palm over my mouth, heart hammering.

If Rhys heard...

It would be a fucking disaster. Worse than the last time. Though a dark, shameful part of me wished he’d walk in right now—shirtless, that dirty blond hair messy, gray eyes dark with the same hunger I couldn’t shake.

“Fuck,” I hissed against my palm.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop remembering how easily he’d pinned me down last year. How completely he’d taken control.

I really shouldn’t be doing this.

But I stroked faster anyway, teeth sinking into my palm to stay quiet. The walls were too thin. The house was too silent. And I was already too far gone.

A few frantic minutes later, I came hard, Rhys’s name dying silently on my tongue.

Afterward, I lay there panting, staring at the ceiling as shame settled heavy in my chest.

Pathetic.

I cleaned up, rolled over, and tried to sleep. It took two more hours before it consumed me.

The next morning was worse.

Mom hummed at the stove while David helped her, their little touches and soft laughs filling the kitchen. They were sickeningly in love. It was exactly why Rhys and I could never happen again.

The thought twisted painfully in my gut.

Because no matter how many times I told myself it was wrong, I still wanted him.

Speaking of the devil.

Ten minutes later, Rhys came down the stairs wearing nothing but low-hanging black sweatpants. No shirt. His torso looked even more ridiculous than last year—sharply defined abs, broad shoulders, that perfect V disappearing beneath the waistband.

I tried not to stare. But failed miserably.

“My face is up here,” he said, voice dripping with smug amusement.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Enough,” David snapped. “Eat your damn pancakes or shut up.”

We both went quiet.

It was kind of humiliating being told off at the breakfast table like a teenager. Especially when the reason for it was standing across the kitchen looking unfairly good in sweatpants.

I ate my pancakes. Kept my eyes down. Trying very hard not to look across the table. Even though it was a very impossible thing to do.

After breakfast, Mom and David announced they were heading out to visit family friends down town and would be back by the evening.

“Try not to kill each other,” Mom said cheerfully as they left, hand in hand.

The front door clicked shut.

Silence swallowed the house.

I dropped onto the living room sofa and opened my messages. Jamie was blowing up my phone about finally sleeping with his high school crush.

Jamie: She was so fucking hot. Told you to come with me, dumbass. We could’ve shared.

He sent a photo—him grinning next to a sleeping brunette, both clearly naked under the sheet.

I was in the middle of typing back something appropriately unimpressed when Rhys's voice came from directly behind me, low and dangerous.

“So this is why you’ve been ignoring me.”

I was startled so hard I nearly dropped my phone. “What the hell?”

I turned. At some point he’d changed into nothing but tight black boxer briefs. The outline of his cock was unmistakable—thick, half-hard, pressing against the fabric.

Jesus.

He looked bigger than I remembered. Or maybe my memory was just too fucking good.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, stepping closer, “we’re both ending up naked.”

“That’s never happening again,” I said, trying to sound firm.

“Oh, come on. We both know you can’t resist me.”

My eyes dropped again. Traitor.

“See?” He smirked. “You’re staring.”

He moved before I could respond, suddenly standing right in front of me. Taking up all available space the way he always did. Heat rolled off his body.

“Prove you can resist me then.”

“There’s nothing to prove.”

"Bullshit." His voice dropped. Rough and quiet. "You're scared."

"I'm not scared of you Rhys"

“ Then kiss me, Eli. If you feel nothing, I’ll leave you alone.”

I knew it was a trap. I knew I was weak.

“...Fine.”

The second the word left my mouth, he crashed into me.

His mouth was hot, demanding and claiming. One hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my waist as he pulled me closer. I melted embarrassingly fast, a broken sound escaping into his mouth. My hands slid up his bare chest, feeling every hard ridge of muscle.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

“This is the last time,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he said, clearly not believing it.

“I’m serious, Rhys.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Then he shoved me down onto the sofa and climbed between my legs, spreading them wide. The heavy heat of his cock pressed against me through thin fabric.

I shivered.

“You don’t need lube?” I asked, voice already shaky.

“Not today.” He ground against me slowly, deliberately. “Next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

He just smirked, like he knew exactly how badly I was lying.