Stepbrother's Secret: Part 3

I didn’t wait until the next night.

I waited until the house was loud again. Until plates were being cleared and the television was back on and my mom was laughing at something my stepdad said. Until the hallway was empty and the only light came from under Adrian’s door.

I didn’t knock.

The door was unlocked, just like he promised.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed this time, elbows on his knees, waiting. Like he already knew I wouldn’t last a full day. The second I stepped inside he stood up, crossed the room in two long strides, and locked the door behind me.

Then his mouth was on mine.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. He kissed me like he’d been thinking about it since the second I left his room the night before. His hands gripped my waist hard enough to bruise. I made a small sound against his lips and he swallowed it, backing me toward the bed without breaking the kiss.

My legs hit the mattress. I went down. He followed.

Clothes came off in messy, impatient layers. My tank top first. His shirt. My shorts and panties in one rough tug. His sweatpants last. When we were both bare he paused just long enough to look at me spread out under him, chest rising fast, thighs already open.

“Still sure?” he asked, voice rough.

I nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes.” The word came out shaky. “I want this.”

That was all he needed.

He settled between my legs, the heavy weight of his cock dragging against my inner thigh, then higher. I was already soaked. He felt it. A low sound left his throat as he rubbed the head through my wetness once, twice, coating himself.

Then he pushed in.

The stretch burned in the best way. Thick. Slow. Inexorable. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep quiet as he filled me inch by inch until his hips were flush against mine. We both went still for a second, breathing hard, adjusting.

Downstairs the television volume spiked. Someone cheered at whatever game was on. The sound felt surreal.

Adrian braced himself on his forearms and started to move.

Deep, steady strokes that made the bedframe creak softly. I wrapped my legs around his waist and met every thrust, trying to stay quiet, failing a little more with each one. The wet sound of him sliding in and out of me filled the room. Filthy. Unmistakable if anyone had been close enough to hear.

“Fuck,” he muttered against my neck. “You’re so tight.”

I turned my face into the pillow to muffle the broken sound that wanted to escape. He pulled the pillow away and replaced it with his hand, covering my mouth.

“You have to be quiet,” he whispered. “They’re right downstairs.”

I nodded under his palm. His hips kept moving, harder now, the angle changing until he was hitting a spot that made my eyes water. My nails dug into his back. He hissed and thrust deeper.

The risk made everything sharper. Every time footsteps passed in the hallway my whole body clenched around him. He felt it and groaned low in his chest, fucking me through it, never slowing down.

“You like that,” he said, voice strained. “Knowing they could walk up here any second.”

I couldn’t answer with his hand over my mouth, so I just looked at him, eyes wide, and nodded again.

Something dark and satisfied flashed in his expression. He shifted, hooked one of my legs higher over his arm, and drove in harder. The new angle punched a whimper out of me that his palm barely caught. My orgasm was building fast, too fast, coiling tight and low.

He felt me starting to shake.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

I came hard, thighs locking around him, cry muffled against his hand. My body pulsed around his cock in tight, rhythmic waves. He kept thrusting through it, jaw clenched, eyes locked on my face like he didn’t want to miss a second.

When the worst of the trembling eased he pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, and yanked my hips up. I barely had time to brace myself before he pushed back in from behind, deeper this way, both hands gripping my waist.

The new position made the bed creak louder. He slowed just enough to keep it quiet, but the strokes were still powerful, still relentless. I pressed my face into the mattress and bit the sheet, trying not to make noise while he fucked me like he’d been starving for it.

“Gonna come inside you,” he muttered. “That okay?”

I nodded frantically into the sheets.

He leaned over my back, one hand sliding under me to rub my clit in tight circles while he kept thrusting. The dual sensation shoved me toward a second orgasm almost immediately. I was still sensitive, still pulsing, and the overstimulation made my arms shake.

“Adrian—” His name came out broken.

“I know. I’ve got you. Just take it.”

I came again with a silent, shuddering cry, body clamping down around him. He followed a few strokes later, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside me with a low, stifled groan against my shoulder. I felt every pulse, every hot spurt, and it only made the aftershocks roll through me harder.

We stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, his weight heavy and warm along my back. Downstairs someone laughed. A chair scraped. Life continued like nothing had changed.

Adrian eventually pulled out. I felt the slow trickle of his come leaking out of me and onto the sheets. He rolled onto his side and tugged me with him so we were face to face, still close, still naked.

His hand brushed damp hair out of my face.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. My body felt liquid. Used. Satisfied in a way that already scared me.

He studied my expression for a second, then leaned in and kissed me softer than before. Almost careful.

When he pulled back he spoke against my mouth.

“Next time we do this, I’m not covering your mouth.”

A fresh pulse of heat went through me at the promise in his voice.

I didn’t tell him there would be a next time.

I didn’t have to.

We both already knew.