All Chapters of Ravaged By My Cold-Hearted Stepbrothers : Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

RheaI texted Anthony at half past two.*Meet me at the side entrance of the humanities block. Twenty minutes.*He replied in under a minute.*You’re texting me first now? Progress.*I put my phone in my bag and walked there slowly.He was already leaning against the wall when I arrived, hands in his pockets, that familiar smile sitting on his face. He looked me over once the way he always did, like he was taking stock of something he owned.“You texted me,” he said. “I’m touched.”“Sit down Anthony.”He raised an eyebrow but pulled out the low wall beside him and sat. I stayed standing. I set my phone on the surface between us face down and looked at him.“You look serious,” he said. “What’s going on?”“I want to show you something.”I picked up my phone and opened the gallery and turned it to face him and pressed play.He leaned forward slightly with that half smile still on his face, expecting something he could use, expecting me to have made some kind of mistake he could file away

RheaThe kitchen felt different that morning after breakfast.Not dramatically different. Just lighter somehow. Brenda was at the table with her tea and her reading glasses and a magazine she kept putting down to talk, which meant she wasn’t really reading it at all. Harold was in the sitting room with Greg. I could hear their voices moving back and forth in that unhurried way men talked when they had nowhere to be.Mum was at the sink and I picked up a cloth and started drying the dishes she was washing without being asked.We stood there together for a while without talking. Just the sound of water and the clink of plates and Brenda turning a page in the next room.“You seem happy,” I said.Mum smiled without turning around. “I am happy.”“The house feels different.”“It does.” She handed me a bowl. “Better different or worse different.”“Better,” I said. “Definitely better.”She nodded. “It takes time. Blending a family is not a small thing. People don’t talk about how long it actu

JacksonI sat in the private lounge for almost an hour before I finally picked up my phone. The vodka sat on the table, one glass poured and untouched. I wasn’t drinking. I just needed something to stare at while the image of my mother in that green apron kept looping in my head.I texted Rhea. ‘Come to the lounge.’She replied almost immediately. ‘Why?’I stared at her message for more than five minutes, deciding whether I should leave her alone or press harder.I was feeling a dangerous mix of things. I wanted to hurt her. Punish her. Fuck her until she couldn’t stand. I’m not a monster. I liked Rhea. God help me, I liked that girl so fucking much it hurt to admit it. But she was Margaret’s daughter. And the only way I felt like I was doing something to Margaret was when I fucked her daughter.‘Just come. Don’t make me wait.’ I replied and set the phone aside, not wanting to see what she had to say next.She could come or she could decide not to. If she walked through that door, she

RheaEverything felt heavy. My body burned from the inside out, a feverish heat that made my skin slick with sweat even though the evening air had cooled. I must have dozed off on the wide lounge chair after the last round — or was it the fourth? I couldn’t remember anymore. The relentless fucking had blurred into one long, filthy haze of hands, cocks, cum, and my own uncontrollable squirting.I woke slowly, groaning as pain shot through every muscle. My pussy throbbed with a deep, raw ache. My thighs were sticky, glued together with layers of dried cum and my own thick cream.Both Jackson and Brandon were tangled around me, their naked bodies pressed close, one on each side. Jackson’s heavy arm draped over my waist, his large hand cupping my sore breast. Brandon’s leg was thrown over mine, his semi-hard cock nestled against my ass cheek, still tacky with residue.I tried to sit up, but my limbs barely obeyed. Every movement sent sharp reminders of how brutally they had used me. My in

RheaElora didn’t ask questions when I showed up at her door.She just looked at my face and my bag and stepped aside and let me in and that was the kindest thing anyone had done for me in months.I sat on her bed and the tears that had been running since the hallway of Sterling house just kept coming. I wasn’t even crying properly anymore. It was past that. Past the sobbing and the shaking. It had settled into something quieter and more permanent, tears just falling steadily like a tap that had been turned on and forgotten about.Elora sat beside me and said nothing for a long time.Nick was in the chair by the window. He had been there when I arrived, studying, and he had looked up and seen my face and closed his book without a word.The three of us sat in the quiet of Elora’s small dorm room while the campus carried on outside like nothing had happened.“Do you want to tell me,” Elora said finally. Gentle. Not pushing.I looked at my hands.“Greg found us,” I said. “All three of us