Almost getting caught

I stared at my reflection in the marble-framed mirror of the venue’s private restroom, heart jack-hammering against my ribs.

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered, dragging a shaky hand through my hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

If I’d just opened one of those damn texts from Mama. If I’d answered a single call. If I’d known the man who’d spent the entire night buried inside me—marking me, owning me—was about to become my stepbrother, I would’ve run in the opposite direction the second he looked at me across that bar.

Now every time I blinked I felt him: the deep ache in my thighs, the faint bruises on my hips, the ghost of his teeth on my shoulder. I’d fucked my mother’s new stepson the night before her wedding. She’d be devastated if she ever found out. Devastated and ashamed of me.

I pressed my palms to the cool counter, forcing a slow breath. “It’s fine,” I muttered to myself. “We can pretend it never happened. Just act like strangers. Easy.”

The door swung open behind me.

“Pretend what never happened?”

That voice—low, rough, laced with amusement—sent heat and ice racing down my spine at the same time. I met his eyes in the mirror as Lorenzo stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click.

He moved to the sink beside me like he owned the place, rolling up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms dusted with dark hair. He slid off his rings and watch, setting them down with quiet clinks, then turned on the tap to rinse a smear of wedding cake from his fingers.

“That I never fucked you senseless?” he continued, voice casual, eyes fixed on his hands. “That you never begged for my cock like you were starving for it?”

My jaw clenched. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

He shut off the water, dried his hands on a folded towel, and finally turned to face me. That infuriating smirk curved his mouth.

“That’s no way to greet your new stepbrother, little bro.”

I pointed a warning finger at him. “I am not your little brother.”

He stepped closer, crowding my space. “I’m twenty-four. You’re twenty-two.” His gaze dropped, lingering. “Kid.”

The word sent a forbidden shiver through me. I backed up instinctively, heels hitting the tiled wall. “Stay the fuck away from me. Your father just married my mother. We.. we can pretend we’ve never met. Nothing happened. Got it?”

He didn’t stop. Kept coming until my palms landed flat against his chest, trying to hold the distance. The heat of him bled through his crisp shirt; I could feel his heart beating steady and strong under my hands.

“Afraid that’s going to be difficult, brother,” he murmured, voice dropping to that dangerous register that had wrecked me last night. “Because I remember exactly how tight you felt around me. How pretty you looked when you came apart on my cock. How you moaned my name like a prayer.”

His fingers brushed my chest—light, teasing—trailing down the placket of my shirt, over my stomach, stopping just above my belt.

I swallowed hard, hating the way my body responded instantly.

“See?” His gaze flicked downward. My traitor cock was already straining against my zipper, obvious and aching. “You’re hard as hell. Clearly it’s not just me.”

“Fuck,” I breathed, head thumping back against the wall as his hand cupped me through the fabric—firm, possessive.

He squeezed once, slow and deliberate, thumb pressing along the ridge. “Feel that? You’re leaking already, baby. Bet you’re soaked under these fancy pants.”

“Enzo—” I gritted out, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Yes, stepbrother?” The word dripped with filthy mockery.

“Stop… you’re—” My protest fractured into a groan as he unzipped me with practiced ease, sliding his hand inside. Warm, calloused fingers wrapped around my bare cock, stroking from root to tip in one long, torturous pull.

“Fuck, you’re dripping for me,” he growled against my ear, breath hot, stubble scraping my jaw. “Look at you—already shaking. You love this, don’t you? Knowing I’m your stepbrother now. Knowing anyone could walk in and see me jerking off my new little brother in a public restroom.”

I gasped, hips bucking into his fist despite myself. He started a steady rhythm—tight, twisting strokes that made my knees buckle.

“Those pretty sounds you make,” he rasped, lips brushing my throat. “Moaning like a desperate little slut every time I touch you.”

“Fuck you,” I managed, voice wrecked.

He laughed low, dark. “We both know I do the fucking around here.”

His thumb circled the slick head, spreading pre-cum down my shaft, making every glide smoother, filthier. He sped up—relentless, perfect pressure—forearm flexing as he worked me.

“Imagine if someone opened that door right now,” he whispered, teeth grazing my earlobe. “They’d see you pinned to the wall, pants open, my hand stroking your cock like I own it. They’d hear how wet you are for me.”

I whimpered, clutching his shoulders to stay upright, pleasure coiling hot and tight low in my gut.

“You gonna come for your big brother, Levi?” His voice was pure sin. “Gonna make a mess all over my fingers like the greedy boy you are?”

I was close—so fucking close—teetering right on the edge, breath ragged, vision tunneling.

“Levi!”

Mama’s voice rang out sharp from the other side of the door, followed by a knock.

Panic and raw need slammed into me at once. My cock jerked hard in his grip.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, trying to push him away even as my hips rolled forward. “You need to sto—”

He cut me off with a brutal stroke, thumb pressing hard under the head, right where I was most sensitive. A broken moan tore out of me.

“Enzo—”

“Shh.” His free hand clamped over my mouth, firm but not cruel, muffling me as he pumped faster, eyes locked on mine—dark, hungry, daring me to fall apart.

My mama’s voice came again, louder.

“Levi…”

My body didn’t care about the danger. It only cared about his hand, his heat, the filthy promise in his gaze. I was seconds away from coming undone, right here, with my mother on the other side of the door.

“Levi!”