All Chapters of Ravaged By My Cold-Hearted Stepbrothers : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

279 Chapters

Punished In The Kitchen

RheaI could not sleep.I had been lying in bed for two hours, staring at the ceiling and watching shadows crawl across the walls. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Nick and Elora walking away from me. I heard Camila’s venomous voice: They tell their friends everything.Finally, I gave up. I threw off the covers and padded downstairs in my sleep shorts and t-shirt. Maybe food would help, or at least give me something to focus on besides the spiral of thoughts in my head.The kitchen was dark except for the small light over the stove. I opened the refrigerator and grabbed the first thing I saw—a cucumber. Not exactly a midnight snack, but it would have to do. I was halfway through a bite when I heard the heavy thud of footsteps.Brandon and Jackson appeared in the doorway, both still fully dressed despite the late hour. They looked like they’d been waiting for something. Or someone.“Can’t sleep?” Jackson asked.I shrugged, taking another bite. “Apparently not.”They walked in

Put On All Fours

RheaI could feel the slick, creamy evidence of what they’d done leaking out of me, dripping onto the cold granite and running down my legs.I thought it was over. I was wrong."Look at the mess you made, Rhea," Brandon murmured, his eyes dropping to the wetness staining the counter.Before I could process the words, Jackson’s hands moved from my waist to my thighs. He didn't help me down. Instead, he shoved my knees back even further, pinning them against my chest until I was completely open, raw and exposed under the dim stove light.Then, he dropped to his knees."Jackson—no," I gasped, my voice a broken thread. "I can't... I’m too sensitive...""Shut up," he growled, his hands like iron vices on my legs. "You’re not going anywhere until I’ve tasted every drop."He buried his face between my legs. The first touch of his tongue was a shock—hot, rough, and demanding. He didn't just lick; he lapped at me hungrily, drinking in the cream and the juice that coated my skin. Then,

Fucked Her Like Beast

JacksonWatching Brandon break her was almost better than doing it myself.I stood back, my breath hitching in my throat as I watched Rhea’s small, pale body trembling on the kitchen tiles. She looked pathetic and perfect, arched high on all fours, sobbing as Brandon hammered into her with zero mercy. The sound of his skin slapping against hers was rhythmic, primal—the only sound in the house besides her muffled wails.When Brandon finally groaned and buried himself deep, unloading everything into her, I didn't wait. I was already unbuckling my belt, my blood roaring.Brandon pulled out with a wet, heavy sound. Rhea collapsed, her face pressed against the floor, her breath coming in jagged, broken hitches. She looked like a discarded doll."My turn," I whispered.I stepped over her, grabbing her by the hips and dragging her back. She was slick—drenched in sweat, tears, and Brandon. As I hauled her up, I saw his heat leaking down the insides of her thighs, a white brand of owners

A Quiet After Morning

RheaI was so focused on my laptop screen that I did not hear Greg come in the first time.“Morning, kiddo.”I jumped, my hand flying to my chest. Greg stood in the doorway of the dining room, already dressed for the day in slacks and a button-down shirt, a coffee mug in his hand.“Sorry,” he said with a slight smile. “Didn’t mean to startle you. What are you working on so intensely?”“Just organizing some things,” I said, minimizing the spreadsheet I had been building. “Good morning.”“Morning.” He moved further into the room, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten? I can make you something. Eggs? Pancakes? I’m not as good as your mother, but I can manage the basics.”The offer was sweet. Unexpected. “Where is Mom? She usually makes breakfast.”“She has a doctor’s appointment this morning,” Greg said. He took a sip of his coffee, his expression casual but something in his eyes made me look closer. “Just a routine checkup. I’m taking the morning off to drive her and then I’ll b

Normalcy

RheaI’d been standing outside Elora’s dorm room for seven minutes.I knew because I’d checked my phone four times, watched the numbers climb, felt my pulse kick harder with each passing second. Music bled through the door—something indie and melancholic that Elora always played when she was in a mood. The kind of song that meant she was thinking too hard about something.Probably me.My knuckles hovered an inch from the wood. I could still leave. Turn around, go home, pretend I never came here. Pretend the last few days of silence hadn’t carved a hole in my chest that got wider every time I saw her in the hallway and she looked right through me.I knocked.Once. Twice. Three times, each one louder than the last.The music cut off. Footsteps approached, hesitant and deliberate. I held my breath.The door opened six inches. Elora stood there in an oversized sweater and leggings, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun, arms crossed over her chest like a barrier. She didn’t smile. Didn’t

The Bet

RheaI couldn’t stop thinking about the beach house and the freedom it promised. A whole week with Jackson and Brandon, away from school hallways and the suffocating performance of being "stepsiblings." A week where the air wouldn’t be thick with things we weren't allowed to say.A whole week of not having to hide.I checked my phone. 1:47 AM. The house was a tomb, but I was vibrating, my skin feeling two sizes too small for my body. I was missing them, which was pathetic, considering they were thirty feet down the hall. But the "careful distance" we kept in public felt like a physical weight I needed to shed.I threw off the covers, my bare feet silent on the hardwood.A sliver of light escaped from under Jackson’s door. I heard their voices, low, gravelly, and competitive. My pulse spiked. I knocked, the sound echoing in the hollow silence of the night.The voices cut off. A moment later, Jackson opened the door. He was shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and his eyes

Riding His Face

RheaThe bet was settled, but the air in the room was just beginning to burn. I stood over Brandon, looking down at him with a heat in my eyes that matched the throb between my legs. I didn't say a word as I reached for the waistband of my pants, sliding them down my legs and stepping out of them until I was standing there in nothing but my skirt and a pair of lace undies that were already ruined.I hooked my fingers into the hem of my skirt, lifting it slowly. Brandon let out a low, tortured groan as my pussy came into view. I was drenched. A thick, silver thread of my own juice hung from my opening, glistening in the dim light, swaying as I parted my legs and straddled his head."Look at it, Brandon," I whispered, my voice thick with a sudden, sharp authority. "Now beg for it."He looked up at me, his eyes dark with a desperate, animalistic hunger. "Please... please, Mistress. Let me taste you. I need to taste you.""Tongue out. Now."He obeyed instantly. I didn't lower myself gentl

Ruthlessly Torn Apart

Rhea Jackson didn’t give me a chance to recover. Before the tremors could even leave my thighs, he hooked his arms under my knees and hoisted me up. In one fluid, powerful motion, I was flipped and draped over his shoulder, my legs locked around his neck and my back pressed against the wall. I was completely exposed, my pussy still weeping from Brandon’s assault, dangling inches from Jackson’s face. "Jackson, wait—" I gasped, my head hanging down his back, the blood rushing to my brain. “Fuck. Please wait.” "I’m done waiting," he growled. He didn't waste time with gentleness. He attacked. His tongue was a hot, muscular blade, stabbing into my opening with a ruthlessness that made me scream. He wasn't just licking; he was trying to devour me while standing up. Every time he thrust his tongue inside, he pinned my hips against his face with his massive hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my waist. He slapped my ass, the sound echoed in the room. The sting was sharp, bi

Calm Before Storm

RheaI was folding a sundress when my mother walked in.She didn’t knock, she never did. It was a holdover from the years in our cramped apartment where privacy was a luxury we couldn’t afford. I looked up from my suitcase, my heart doing a guilty trip against my ribs. I felt... different. My body felt heavy, my skin still hypersensitive from the way Brandon and Jackson had spent the last few hours marking it.I half expected her to look tired, the way she had for weeks, with shadows carved beneath her eyes like permanent bruises.But she didn’t.There was color in her cheeks, real color, not the feverish flush I’d grown used to. She moved across my room with something close to her old energy, settling onto the edge of my bed. She picked up the sunscreen I’d left on my comforter, her eyes bright.“You’re packing light,” she observed, turning the bottle in her hands.“It’s only a week,” I added a pair of shorts to the pile, trying to keep my movements steady even though my inner thighs

The Guest

RheaThe morning air was crisp, sharp enough to sting my lungs as I carried my suitcase down the driveway. The sun had barely crested the horizon, painting everything in shades of gold and pink that would have been beautiful if I weren’t running on four hours of sleep.I could still feel the phantom heat of last night, Brandon on his back, looking up at me like I held all the power in the world. The memory made my skin flush despite the cold.Jackson was already at the car, loading bags into the trunk with methodical precision. He looked up when I approached “Morning, Rhea,” he said quietly.“Morning, Jack.” I greeted casually.This part of acting like we don’t even sit in the same space, keeping the perfect step-sibling energy, is one act I’ve mastered to display in public. I handed him my suitcase, and his fingers brushed mine deliberately as he took it. The touch was brief but intentional, sending electricity up my arm.Brandon emerged from the house, carrying two bags, Elowen tr

...

7 8 9 10 11

...

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP