The Father Of My Child Is My Stepbrother

Letty’s pov

Night fell quietly and at 2 a.m., hunger pulled me from bed. I padded into the kitchen, reaching for the chocolate on the top shelf.

After all my efforts, I couldn’t reach it.

“Here.” His voice came from behind me.

I froze as Mason reached past me, so close that now I could feel the warmth of his body pressed gently at my back side.

He didn’t move away even after he got the chocolate as his hand rested at my waist, steady, warm.

“You’re shaking again,” he said.

I turned slowly. His eyes were dark and focused.

“I couldn’t sleep and I was hungry,” I whispered.

“Or was it because of what you saw?” he asked.

“Yes.” I shyly replied

Mason exhaled. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Then why does it feel like it was going to anyway?” I asked softly.

His jaw tightened. “You don’t understand what you’re standing in front of.”

“Then explain it to me.” I quickly replied, curious to hear what he had to say.

He stepped closer. “I’ve been trying not to look at you.”

“Why?” I asked

“Because every time I do, I forget why I shouldn’t.” Mason replied with a gaze that held so much more.

My breath hitched. “Mason…”

He lifted his hand, then stopped himself.

“You should go back to bed,” he said, voice strained. “If I touch you again, I won’t stop.”

But I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

The space between us pulsed with everything unspoken.

I could see the conflict in Mason's eyes, want held back by restraint. His hand lingered at my hip, fingers pressing just enough to remind me of his strength, yet he held back, giving me that inch of distance as if it could save us both.

"I know," I murmured, my voice barely above a breath.

But my body betrayed me, leaning forward into the warmth of him, chasing the heat that seeped through his half buttoned shirt. The chocolate bar felt forgotten in my hand, melting slightly against my palm from the sudden rush of my skin.

Mason exhaled sharply.

His chest rising and falling quicker now. That hovering hand finally moved, brushing a stray lock of hair from my shoulder before settling lightly on the tender slope of my neck.

His thumb traced a slow circle there, sending shivers down my spine. Not forceful, but deliberate, like he was testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away.

I didn't.

"You shouldn't tempt me like this," he said, his voice a rough whisper.

His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unyielding, pulling me in deeper. I could smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the cool night air from the open window.

"Then why don't you stop?" I challenged softly, though my words trembled with uncertainty.

For a heartbeat, he froze.

Then, with a low growl that rumbled from his throat, he closed the gap.

His mouth claimed mine in a kiss that started gentle but the restraint cracked quickly, his hand at my neck slid into my hair, tilting my head back as he deepened it, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with mine.

I melted against him, the chocolate dropping to the counter with a soft clatter as my arms wrapped around his neck. I could feel how hard he was against my belly. A low, burning sensation spread through my core, my thighs clenching instinctively as his free hand gripped my hip tighter, pulling me closer.

He broke the kiss first, breathing heavily against my lips. "Tell me to stop," he demanded, his forehead resting on mine, eyes squeezed shut as if fighting an internal battle. But his hips shifted, grinding subtly against me, betraying his words.

"Don't," I whispered, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, Mason... don't stop."

Mason’s control shattered then.

With a hungry sound, he lifted me onto the counter. His hands roamed, one sliding up my thigh under my nightshirt, fingers teasing the edge of my panties while the other cupped my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it peaked hard against the fabric.

His fingers pressed against the wet spot on my panties. I arched my back and a soft moan came out of me.

The need inside me grew stronger with each slow touch.

Mason watched my face.

His eyes burned with want. He hooked his fingers under the edge of my panties and pulled them aside.

Cool air hit my bare skin, then his fingers found my folds. They were slick and ready.

I gasped as my hands gripped his shoulders hard. He slid one finger inside me and it felt so good. He moved it in and out, slow at first as my hips rocked to meet him.

He added a second finger and he curled them just right as pleasure shot through me. I bit my lip to hold back a cry.

His thumb found my clit and rubbed it in circles. The heat built fast and my body trembled. I was close already.

He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "Come for me," he whispered.

His fingers pumped faster and the pressure grew too much. Immediately, waves of pleasure came crashing over me. My pussy clenched around his fingers as I moaned his name loud. Stars danced behind my eyes.

When I came down, he pulled his fingers out. They glistened with my wetness.

"I need to taste you," he said as he dropped to his knees.

His hands pushed my thighs apart and his mouth covered me. His tongue licked my pussy with long, slow strokes and sucked on my clit gently. I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. His tongue dipped inside and he fucked me with it, then back to my clit. He knew just what to do.

My body lit up again. I was sensitive from before but it felt even better.

"Mason... oh god," I panted as my legs shook. He held my hips steady and his tongue worked faster.

I came again, harder this time. My whole body tensed as Juices flooded his mouth. He stood up slowly, his face was wet with me. He kissed me deep and I tasted myself on his lips, it was dirty and hot.

My hands went to his pants and I felt his hard cock through the fabric. It strained against me and I wanted it inside me.

"Fuck me," I begged. My voice was breathless.

He didn't hesitate, he unzipped his pants and his cock sprang free. It was thick and long. The head was red and leaking pre-cum.

He lined it up with my pulsing pussy and pushed in slowly. Inch by inch, I stretched around him. It burned a little, but in the best fucking way.

He started thrusting, slow and deep at first. Each stroke hit that spot inside me as I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

His hands gripped my ass and lifted me a bit, he sped up and hit even deeper

"So tight," he grunted. "So wet for me."

I clawed at his back, the pleasure coiled tight again. "Harder," I said.

He gave it to me, pounds that shook the counter as my breasts bounced under my shirt. He then pushed it up, took a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard.

That did it. I came around his cock squeezing him tight. He then pulled back just enough to watch my face, his expression dark with desire. "I've wanted this," he confessed, voice husky. "Every damn night, seeing you"

The words hung unfinished as I arched into him, a soft moan escaping, the tension coiling tighter with every deliberate stroke.

It had just been yesterday Mason graced the Wells house with his presence. I was the first to see him at home but not in a way step siblings normally see and welcome each other, instead it was the opposite.

I saw him completely butt naked.

There was no warning and definitely no chance to look away. He stepped out of the guest bathroom, water sliding down his skin, his muscles tight and unreal, like a statue of a Greek god dragged from a history book and forced to breathe. My heart stuttered as the world narrowed to him standing in the hallway, naked and unashamed.

He wasn’t supposed to be home. Mason was a ghost in this house, always working, always traveling. That was what everyone said whenever his name surfaced. So when a loud bang echoed from downstairs, fear came first.

For a second, I thought someone had broken in. I never imagined it would be him.

Before Micheal, my world had been small. It was just me, my mother and my books. How I so much loved the silence. Even after my father died when I was three, it was enough. I didn’t remember his face, only the stories my mother whispered when she thought I was asleep.

Then Micheal arrived and everything changed.

My mother smiled again. She hummed while cooking. I didn’t like the idea of her remarrying, but I told myself she deserved happiness. Still, when we moved into his mansion, I felt like I had shrunk.

The house was too big and too clean. Marble floors echoed beneath my feet, ceilings swallowed my voice, and every room felt like it belonged to someone else. I stayed close to my mother, afraid I might disappear if I let go.

Micheal was kind, warm and it felt safe having him but then he introduced his son.

Mason.

He did not smile, did not greet me, did not even look at me. He stood there tall and cold, eyes empty, face hard. He was beautiful in a dangerous way with his sharp jaw, broad shoulders and dark presence.

I felt something strange that day. Something I did not understand and did not want to admit. It was not fear, though fear was there. It was not curiosity either, though my eyes kept searching for him without permission. It was a quiet pull in my chest, slow and dangerous, like a feeling waking up before I was ready to face it.

My mother never told me Micheal had a son.

From that moment on, Mason acted like I was invisible. At dinner, he never spoke unless spoken to. He never laughed or joined family talks. Even when he sat right beside me, it felt like he was somewhere else.

It hurt more than I expected but I told myself it was nothing. He was six years older than me and to him, I was probably just some annoying kid that is not worth noticing.

But I noticed everything, how his jaw tightened when annoyed, how his eyes darkened when angry, how his silence could fill a room and now he stood naked in front of me.