Novel & Cerita My Possessive Stepbrother

"Ember Brock is three years older than you, head over a fraternity as well as being a football jock. Brock is a player. He is only out for one thing; don't be stupid," "We can't be together, Derrick. I wish we could. I wish you weren't my stepbrother, but you are. I love you in a way I shouldn't love my stepbrother. I need you to let me go, and I need you to move on. It's for the best. We can't keep going on like this," Emberly quickly took her hand from my chest and looked away. Desperation took over me. "Ember, please, please don't do this. Give me this year, that's all I ask, and then I promise I'll let you go," I tilted her chin to look at me.

"Dona, I told you about this already. Peter will be moving in soon, and he's coming with his son." My hand froze mid-slice, “What?” I gasped. "Wh... Who the FUCK?!" "Language!" She looked over her shoulder like she hadn’t just casually ruined what was left of my good morning. "Who.... in God's name is my stepbrother?" “A nice boy, and he's joining us for breakfast this morning.” My mother waved a flippant hand around. “Since when do I have a stepbrother?” I asked. "You guys aren't even married!"

Because now I was confused. Now I was trying to remember if he even looked like me. Or if we shared any kind of resemblance. Or maybe this was some mafia coded metaphor. “Brother” in that loyal and blood oath way. But no. He clarified still calm and still watching me like he was bracing himself for me to explode. “I’m your stepbrother. Your dad I mean your real dad, he’s my father. We share him but we have different mothers.” He added like that softened it.

I said bluntly, letting the words hang in the air. Her eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and curiosity. “What do you mean… you don’t like him?” Her voice lowered, almost intimate, leaning in closer without realizing it. I glanced at her, catching the subtle flush on her cheeks. “It’s complicated, you won't understand. I don't really hate him, l just despise his character.” “I want to understand.” She pouted her mouth. “He’s not really my brother,” I said finally, and I saw her blink, confused. “Step-brother. We don’t share a mother. I’ve never really been part of their life the way… normal brothers are.”

I couldn’t move a limb even if I tried. “I won the bet,” he announces, not a trace of sarcasm or the usual smugness I’d expected in his eyes. “You’re mine now, little sister.” Shit. That sounds so fucking hot. I don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud until Caleb lifts both brows, raking his fingers through his hair. “Yeah? You like the idea of being owned by your brother?” “Stepbrother,” I correct him, even as my stomach flutters at the wrongness of it. It’s a reminder that we shouldn’t be this. That we shouldn’t be feeling anything for each other, much less acting on it.

Now, here I was, kneeling and crying at his mercy to save the one I truly loved. But what did he want from me? What would he have me do to prove all he just said? I wasn't his. I'd never been his. I didn't want to be his. I want to be Jake's. Whatever delusions or fantasies he harbored about us in that dark, possessive mind of his, none of them were real. Kester remains my stepbrother, and no matter what he says or thinks, calling me MINE doesn't make me HIS.

“No one else but me.” His thrusts were splitting me apart, destroying my good sense and reason. I had forgotten I was supposed to hate him, supposed to fight him for the control of choosing my own husband and time of marriage. I forgot we were supposed to be step siblings. That what we were doing was despicable, the very same thing I vowed not to end up doing. But fuck it if the most despicable acts weren't the sweetest things in the world. Fucking my stepbrother was right there with the sweetest of them all.

My father had bequeathed more than half of his properties and establishments to my name, while the residue was shared between my sister and stepbrother. It's a lot to handle but I'm sure my father trusts me enough to give me a lot and I don't plan to disappoint him. I struggle out of my bed to get the door as the bell to my penthouse rings. Standing before me was my stepbrother dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans. It was funny cause it wasn't his taste but I couldn't find the vehemence to laugh. "I haven't seen you since the news. Are you okay?" I ask as he walks in and I shut the door.

“My stepbrother’s mouth on me. Making me cum even when everything is falling apart.” I came hard, shaking against his face. He stood up, freed himself, and thrust into me on the couch. “Take me,” he growled. “All of me.” I wrapped my legs around him. “Yes. Fuck me. Claim me.” He moved deep and steady, eyes locked on mine. “You’re mine. No matter what this blackmailer does. Say it.” “I’m yours. Only yours. My stepbrother owns me.” We came together, holding each other tight.

“He’s trying to get under your skin. That’s all. Don’t let him win.” A car passed. I straightened up and kept walking, cooling down. The jealousy still simmered, low and ugly. I pictured the girl on his lap, heard her moaning his name again in my head. My stomach clenched. “Why does it bother me so much?” I said aloud, kicking a pebble. “I hate him. He’s arrogant. He’s reckless. He’s my fucking stepbrother. I should be relieved he’s with someone else.” But I wasn’t relieved. I was furious. And the fury felt too close to something else — something possessive and raw that I didn’t want to name.