All Chapters of Stepbrother's Filthy Toy (An Erotica Collection): Chapter 361 - Chapter 370

Marissa.“You up?”Reid said it from the doorway like he had not just texted the same words two minutes ago. He stood there in the dark looking at me on the bed, sheet kicked down, Barrett’s cum still wet on my thighs. He did not pretend he could not see it.I sat up and pulled the sheet to my waist. It did not help. My nipples were still tight and my pussy was still open from his father.“Barrett was just here,” I said.Reid’s mouth twitched. “I know. The whole hallway smells like it.”He did not come closer yet. He leaned against the frame and looked at the key Barrett had left on the nightstand.“That the new one?”“Yes.”“He already had a copy.”I did not answer. Reid already knew. He had always known.He pushed off the door and walked to the side of the bed. He did not touch me. He just looked down at the mess between my legs like he was deciding whether he was angry or hard. Both, from the way his sweatpants sat.“Go to sleep, Reid.”“Not yet.”He reached out and dragged two fin

Tessa. “Did you check the price on that thing we talked about?” Grant sent it in the family group chat at 9:14 p.m. while Mom was still in the living room scrolling through the same thread. I watched the three dots appear under his name from my bed with the door half closed and my phone face down on my stomach. Helen Brennan. My mother. She hearted the message in less than ten seconds. So glad you two are finally bonding. This is going to be such a nice surprise. The “thing” was not a gift. The “price” was which door I would leave unlocked. Grant Hale Brennan. Forty seven. My mother’s husband of two years. My stepfather on paper and the reason I started sleeping in shorts I could pull off with one hand. I am Tessa. Twenty. I moved back home after the dorm situation fell apart and Grant was the one who carried my boxes up the stairs. He looked at me that first afternoon like he already knew I would leave a door open for him eventually. I told myself I imagined it. I di

Tessa. “Tonight works.” Grant sent it in the family chat at 8:47 p.m. while Helen sat on the couch ten feet from him with the thread open on her lap. I saw it from my room. I liked it. One tap. Helen liked it too. Perfect. I will stay out of your way so you can finish wrapping. I stared at both hearts sitting under his words. Tonight works. She thought it meant the gift. He meant the side gate and my door and the fact that I was already wet before I even stood up. Helen added another message. What if we do a little family breakfast tomorrow to open it? I can make the cinnamon rolls you like, Grant. Grant: Sounds good. Tessa and I will have it ready. Helen hearted that one too. I muted the chat so the pings would not wake anyone. Then I took everything off. No tank this time. Nothing. I left the side gate unlatched and my bedroom door cracked and sat on the edge of the bed waiting. I heard Helen tell Grant she was going to take a bath and put her headphones on. I heard Gra

Nora’s POV “You have a window.” That was all the text said at 11:32 on Friday. I was still in the lecture hall packing my bag. I already knew what it meant. 11:40 to 1:15. The gap I had never paid attention to until I saw it circled on his wall. I left the building without talking to anyone. I drove home faster than I should have. The front door was unlocked the way I left it. Miles’s bedroom door was open. He was sitting at the desk with the timetable right above his head. He did not turn around when I walked in. “You have fifty five minutes,” he said. “Close the door. Take everything off. I am not wasting time on clothes.” I closed the door. I pulled my shirt off. I pushed my jeans and panties down together and stepped out of them. I stood there naked in the middle of his room while he finally looked at me. Miles stood up and pointed at the bed. “On your back. Legs open. Face the wall. I want you to see your own schedule while I use the gap.” I did it. The paper was right

Jane.“Hadley Jane Voss. A share of the residual estate, to be administered at the discretion of the executors.”The lawyer did not look up when he said my name. He never did. He stacked papers like my mother was a file and not the woman who used to leave the porch light on for me. Vincent sat at the head of the dining table in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled, my stepfather for seven years, executor now. Ellis stood behind my chair. He had not sat down once. My stepbrother in the paperwork sense. Twenty-nine. Hands on the chair back close enough that I felt his knuckles when I breathed.“That is the language,” the lawyer said. “Discretion of the executors. Mr. Voss and Mr. Voss. Any questions before I go?”I had questions. They stuck to the roof of my mouth.Vincent said, “No. Thank you for coming to the house.”The lawyer packed. Leather folio. Pen cap. A nod at me that meant condolences and get some rest. The front door closed. His car left the drive. The house went quiet in t