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

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,

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

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

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

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