All Chapters of Tamed By The Devil Stepbrother : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Clara's POV The shower’s steam enveloped us, the glass door fogged with heat as water cascaded over my skin, slick and warm. Nolan’s body pressed against mine, his muscular frame pinning me to the tiled wall, the cold contrast making me shiver despite the scalding spray. His lips were on my neck, sucking hard, leaving another mark to join the constellation of bruises and bites he’d already littered across my collarbone and breasts. His cock, thick and throbbing, pressed against my thigh, a constant reminder of the power he wielded over me—physically, emotionally, intoxicatingly. The air was thick with the scent of his sandalwood body wash and the raw, primal musk of our arousal, a heady cocktail that made my head spin. “Clara? Honey, are you in there?” My mother’s voice sliced through the haze, sharp and jarring, like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. My heart stopped, every muscle tensing as panic clawed at my chest. Oh god, no. If she found out—her precious daughter, fuc

Clara's POV “Nolan, stop,” I gasped, but my hands were already clutching his shoulders, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. “They’ll hear us.” “Not with these walls,” he said, his hands ripping my sweater over my head, revealing the same lacy black bra from last night. His eyes darkened, and he palmed my breasts roughly, pinching my nipples through the sheer fabric until I whimpered. “Fuck, these tits. Been thinking about them all dinner. Strip the rest, Clara. Now.” I hesitated, but his hand shot to my throat, not choking but holding firm, his thumb stroking the pulse point there. “Don’t make me ask twice, slut. Show me what’s mine.” My hands trembled as I unbuttoned my skirt, letting it pool at my feet, followed by my soaked panties. His gaze raked over me, his cock straining against his sweats. “Good girl. Now on the recliner. Legs spread.” I obeyed, sinking onto the plush leather, the cold material a shock against my heated skin. I spread my thighs, exposing myself,

Nolan's POV The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the ocean in bloody streaks that matched the raw hunger churning in my gut. Twenty-one today—king of this floating empire, the *Siren’s Call*, a beast of a ship Dad had rented out like it was pocket change. The upper deck was my throne room: black-and-gold balloons twisting in the sea wind, LED lights pulsing like a heartbeat under the teak floors, and that massive champagne fountain gurgling endlessly, bubbles catching the dying light like tiny explosions. The air reeked of salt, expensive perfume, and the faint tang of sex already—trust-fund kids grinding subtly to the DJ's thumping bass, swimsuits barely containing the chaos. Fireworks were primed for later, ready to light up the international waters with my name in gold and black sparks.But all I could focus on was Clara. My stepsister. My secret obsession. She sat across from me in that sundress, the one that hugged her curves like a second skin, her legs crossed demurely

Nolan's POVChaos erupted as the group dare hit—clothes flying off like confetti under the pulsing LED lights, the ocean breeze raising goosebumps on bare skin. Bryce stripped first, kicking off his shorts to reveal black boxers tented with a blatant hard-on, grinning like a fool. "Let's get this party wet!" Tessa followed, shimmying out of her bikini bottoms with a theatrical spin, leaving just a tiny gold thong that barely covered her shaved pussy. Her tits were already out from earlier, bouncing as she laughed, nipples stiff and begging for attention. Lila and Madison peeled down to matching lace panties, their asses on full display as they bent over dramatically, earning whistles from the guys. Ethan dropped trou next, his cock straining against gray briefs, a wet spot already forming at the tip. "Who's pairing with me? I bite." Rebecca stood slow, untying her red string bikini with deliberate tease—top first, letting her heavy tits spill free, then bottoms, stepping out to reveal

Clara's POV The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting a golden haze over the rumpled sheets and Nolan's sleeping form. His chest rose and fell steadily, the tattoo on his bicep—a snarling wolf he'd gotten on a whim during our last "family" vacation—flexing with each breath. I lay there, trapped under his arm, my body a map of his reclaiming: bite marks on my breasts, fingerprints bruising my hips, and that deep, satisfying ache between my legs from hours of his relentless possession. Cum still leaked from me, a sticky reminder of how he'd filled every hole, whispering "mine" like a mantra until I'd shattered beneath him.I should have hated him. Should have slipped out while he snored softly, grabbed my passport from the dresser, and vanished into Berlin's labyrinth of U-Bahn stations. But as I traced the line of his jaw with my eyes, that twisted pull in my chest tightened. Nolan wasn't just my stepbrother; he was my ruin, my addiction