FAZER LOGINSia moved the last box up the stairs, her tank top clinging to her skin from the August heat. The house was massive, her mother’s new husband had money, and it was very obvious.
Three stories, a pool in the back , and enough space that she wouldn’t have to see anyone if she didn’t want to. “Your room’s at the end of the hall,” her mother called from downstairs. “Derek’s room is next to yours. Try to get along.” Sia rolled her eyes and walked away with the box. Derek. Her new stepbrother. Twenty eight, built like he lived in a gym, with dark hair and eyes that seemed to look right through her at dinner few days ago. Sia had noticed. She’d noticed the way his dress shirt stretched across his shoulders, the way he said he’d like having her around. She’d gone home that night after the dinner and used her vibrator twice, ashamed and turned on in equally. She pushed open her bedroom door and dropped the box. The room was nice, much bigger than her old apartment, with a queen bed and her own bathroom. She’d unpack later. Right now, she needed a shower and some alone time with her trusty bullet vibe. The stress of moving had really taken a toll on her. Sia stripped, grabbed her toiletry bag, and walked across the hall to the bathroom. She didn’t bother locking the door as she was alone upstairs, her mother and new stepfather downstairs unpacking the kitchen. The water was hot, perfect. She leaned against the tile and let it run down her body, hands sliding over her breasts, her stomach and between her thighs. She was already embarrassingly wet, had been since she caught sight of Derek’s forearms at dinner. Jesus, she was pathetic. Getting off to her stepbrother before she’d even moved in. Her fingers found her clit, circling and teasing. It was good, but she wanted more. She wanted the vibration, the relentless pressure that would make her scream. Sia shut off the water, wrapped a towel around herself, and stepped back into the hallway but stopped dead in her tracks as she noticed Derek leaning against her bedroom door. “Hey,” he said, casual as hell, like he wasn’t eyeing her dripping wet body barely covered by a thin towel. Sia clutched the fabric tighter. “What are you doing up here?” “Needed a shirt.” He didn’t move, just looked at her with those dark eyes. “You shower fast.” “I-yeah.” She took a step toward her door, but he didn’t move aside. “Excuse me.” Derek reached out and touched the edge of her towel, his knuckles brushing her collarbone. “You’re shaking.” “I’m cold,” the response was immediate. “Liar,” he stepped closer, crowding her against the doorframe. “You’re dripping . I can smell it.” Sia’s face burned with shame. “Derek—“ “You were touching yourself in there,” it wasn’t a question. His hand dropped lower, tracing the swell of her breast through the towel. “Don’t stop on my account.” “Derek, stop… we can’t. My mom—“ “Is downstairs with my dad, and they’ll be busy for hours,” his thumb found her nipple through the fabric, pressing hard. Sia gasped, her knees shaking. “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you? I saw you looking at dinner. You wanted to know what these hands could do.” “Derek—“ He pushed the towel open, baring her to his gaze. “Fuck. Look at you. I wonder what you taste like.” His hand slid down her stomach, not hesitating or asking for permission. His fingers found her already slick spot, and Sia moaned, even though she didn’t want to. “Jesus, you’re dripping. How long has it been since someone touched you?” “Never… ahhh… mmm,” she breathed, arching into his hand. “I’ve never—“ Derek went totally still. “You’re a virgin?” Sia nodded softly, shame washing over her. “Twenty two years old and you’ve been using toys?” he started moving his fingers again, slow circles around her clit that made her see stars. “Tonight you’re going to learn what real fingers feel like. Then tomorrow, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight.” He pressed two fingers inside her, and Sia cried out, her head falling back against the door. He was rough, curling his fingers to find the spot that made her legs shake. “F-fuck… y-yes… don’t stop,” Sia couldn’t control her moans anymore. The stretch burned in the best way, better than any toy, because it was him, hot and real and looking at her like he wanted to consume her. “You’re tight,” he growled, working her open. “So fucking tight. I’m going to ruin this pussy, Sia. Every night. You’re going to sleep with my cum dripping down your thighs, and you’re so going to love it.” “Yes… Nnnngh,” she whimpered, grinding against his hand. “Please— aah… ooh… yesss“ Derek dropped to his knees and shoved her legs apart. His mouth replaced his fingers, tongue lapping at her clit, sucking hard. “F-fuckkk… G-godd… ah…” Sia’s hands flew to his hair, gripping tight as he ate her like a starving man. The sounds were wet and filthy, echoing in the hallway where anyone could catch them. He pushed two fingers back inside her, fucking her with them while his tongue worked her clit. The combination was too much, the stretch and the pressure and the knowledge that her stepbrother was on his knees with his face between her legs. “Oh… oh god…fuckkk” Sia came with a strangled cry, her whole body convulsing, her grip on his hair almost painful. Derek stood up slowly, licking his lips, his fingers still buried inside her. He watched her face as he moved them, slowly and deeply , drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling. “That’s one,” he said, pulling his fingers free and sucking them clean while she watched, entirely dazed. “Tonight, after they go to sleep, I’m coming to your room. And you’ll take all of me.” He walked away, leaving her naked and shaking against the doorframe, her body wanting more and already counting the hours until midnight.The summons came through her phone at 10 AM.*My office. One hour. Don't make me regret this.*Amaya smiled at the screen, her pulse already quickening. Three days since she'd invaded his workspace, bent over his desk, made him reschedule meetings while she milked his cock dry. Three days of silence, of avoidance, of him pretending he could resist what they'd become.She dressed deliberately — professional from the waist up, devastating below. Blazer, silk blouse, hair in a chignon that made her look twenty-five instead of twenty. And beneath the pencil skirt that hugged her curves: absolutely nothing. No panties. No stockings. Just bare, slick, ready flesh that would greet him the moment he lifted the fabric.She took the elevator to the forty-second floor, her heart hammering against her ribs, her arousal already coating her inner thighs. The receptionist recognized her, smiled politely, and Amaya wondered if the woman could smell it — the sex, the taboo, the desperate hunger that
The house breathed differently at 2 AM. Amaya stood in the hallway outside his bedroom, her heart pounding violently against her chest, her body bare beneath the silk robe she'd stolen from his closet. Three days since they’d fucked in the kitchen. Three days of him avoiding her, locking himself in his study, leaving the house at dawn and returning after midnight. But her mother was still in Tuscany. And Amaya was done waiting. She tried the handle — unlocked. He'd forgotten, or he'd hoped, or he simply didn't care anymore. The door swung open on silent hinges, revealing the master suite in moonlight. The bed was massive, canopied, and he occupied the center, sprawled on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the sheet tangled around his waist. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. Asleep and vulnerable. Amaya let the robe fall from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. She climbed onto the mattress with deliberate care, the movement waking him slightly — he stirr
The vacation was a gift from God.Amaya's mother kissed her cheek at the airport, perfumed and oblivious, chattering about spa treatments and wine tastings and "bonding time with the girls." Amaya smiled, waved and promised to behave. Her stepfather stood beside her, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on the departures board rather than his wife's departing figure.They didn't speak in the car ride home.Three days of silence followed. Amaya caught him watching her at breakfast, his gaze lingering on her bare legs beneath his borrowed shirt. She'd started wearing his clothing deliberately— his dress shirts without panties, his gym shorts without bras, the fabric carrying his scent against her skin. She made sure to bend over in front of him, to reach for high shelves, to "accidentally" brush against him in narrow hallways. He retreated to his study. Locked the door and stayed there until midnight.On day four, she escalated.Amaya showered with the bathroom door cracked, the steam
Amaya had been looking for her mother for twenty minutes.The house was too large for three people — a display of her stepfather's wealth that still made her feel like a guest three years after he'd married her mother. Marble floors, cathedral ceilings, rooms that swallowed sound and secrets. She'd checked the kitchen, the sunroom, the garage. Her mother's phone had gone straight to voicemail. The only place left was the master wing.She took the stairs two at a time, her bare feet silent on the polished wood, her cutoff denim shorts riding high on her thighs. It was Saturday morning, barely past ten, and she'd expected the house to be empty — her mother had mentioned errands, her stepfather had left for the gym at dawn. The bedroom door was closed but not locked, and Amaya didn't knock. She never did. This was her mother's house, her mother's room, her right to enter.She pushed inside. "Mom, have you seen my—"The words died in her throat.The shower was running in the en-suite b
Morning light streamed through the glass walls. Sia woke in Derek’s bed, sore and marked, his arm heavy across her waist. She didn’t remember falling asleep, only the hours of fucking, his voice in her ear, his cum drying on her thighs.Derek was already awake, watching her.“Morning,” he said, his thumb tracing her swollen lips.“Morning,” Sia managed, her voice hoarse from hours of deep throat blow jobs.He rolled on top of her, his cock hard against her hip. “I’m not done with you.”“Derek, I’m sore—““Good,” pushed her legs apart and slid inside her, slowly this time, letting her feel every inch. “I want you to feel me all day. At class, at dinner with our parents, in your bed tonight when I come for you again.”He fucked her slowly this time, no anger, just possession, his eyes locked on hers as he moved. It was worse than the roughness — this intimacy, this claiming. Sia came twice, clinging to him, whispering his name like a prayer.Afterwards, he showered her, washed her hair
Maya dragged her out on Friday. “You look like you’re dying,” her friend said, shoving a dress into Sia’s hands. Red, tight and revealing. “We’re getting you drunk and getting you laid by someone who isn’t family drama.” Sia didn’t correct her, because she was right anyway. The club was loud, dark, packed with bodies grinding and sweating. Maya bought shots, and Sia drank them one after another, letting the alcohol burn away her thoughts, her restraint, her loyalty to a man who was torturing her with silence. Three drinks in, she was dancing. Four drinks in, a stranger’s hands were on her hips. Five drinks in, she was in the corner with a man she didn’t know, his mouth on her neck, his cock hard against her hip. “You’re beautiful,” he slurred, his hands roaming. “Want to get out of here?” Sia looked up into his face — blond, handsome, nothing like Derek — and felt a spike of vicious satisfaction. She dropped to her knees in the shadowed corner, her fingers working his belt







