Prologue
Hannah
Past
“We need to stop.”
His fingers at the base of my skull fist my hair until my scalp burns. With a slight tug, he tilts my head more, licks his way up my neck, scrapes my sensitive skin with his teeth, and pauses to suck my pulse point.
In complete contradiction to my words, I melt into him. Clutch his hips with greedy hands and haul him closer. My body hums, and I moan at how good he makes me feel.
Nipping my earlobe, a low groan vibrates his chest. “No, love,” he says with a shake of his head. Then his hands frame my face as his gaze drops to my lips for a dizzying beat before lifting to lock with mine. “We never need to stop.” And then he takes my mouth with his.
The rational side of my mind screams at me to push him away. Tells me we can’t keep doing this. That this is wrong, forbidden, abnormal, taboo. But then my wild, rebellious, insatiable, wolfish side speaks up. It teases and tempts and coaxes me with words like perfect, liberating, instinctual, true.
We’ve been doing this for a little more than a year—sneaking around, making out, teasing the hell out of each other, fucking whenever opportunity allowed. I don’t regret a single moment. Never will.
The night my dad and his mom introduced us—the first “family” date—I felt the spark between us. After hours of conversation, laughter, and flirting, we were inevitable.
But we couldn’t be. Or at least that is what everyone would tell us.
Because that night, we learned my dad and his mom had been dating almost a year. They’d kept it quiet to not disrupt our lives or let us get attached, in case the relationship didn’t work out.
I understood the reason why, but still felt a sense of betrayal. Like my dad didn’t trust my judgment or heart.
But their dating history wasn’t the biggest bomb of the evening. Not by a long shot.
Barely a breath after I processed the news, Dad’s girlfriend reached for her wineglass with her left hand. It was impossible to miss the platinum band and large sparkling diamond on her ring finger. A shiny engagement ring that hadn’t been on her hand when we arrived at the restaurant. She must have slipped it on under the table while Dad spilled the life-altering update. The rest of the night was a blur.
From then, everything changed in a flash. Two weeks after the engagement announcement, my home went from quiet and content to chaotic and crowded as my future stepmom and stepbrother moved in. Boxes were everywhere. Things got shifted around to accommodate the new additions. Loud music shook the wall between my room and his.
It was too much all at once, but I tried not to let it bother me. I smiled and kept my frustration to myself.
Dad was happy for the first time in far too long, and he deserved the love she gave him and more. I refused to be the one who ruined that because of my own petty grievances. Adjusting to this new way of life had its challenges, but I’d figure it out.
A few weeks later, on an unseasonably hot day in September, I slipped on my bikini and went to cool off in the pool. Dad hadn’t adjusted the temperature for the cooler months yet, and I took advantage. Plus, the parents had vacated the house, needing a day off together.
That’s the day when things shifted between me and my stepbrother.
I crested the surface as he slipped into the water less than a foot away. My nipples pebbled as I ogled his bare skin, his Adam’s apple, the smirk on his perfect, kissable lips. Before my mouth formed a single word, his gaze dropped to the swells of my breasts. His tongue wet his lips a beat before he bit the bottom one, and I knew his eyes were locked on my hard, needy nipples.
Who made the first move is still hazy. One minute, we were inches apart. The next, my hands roamed his skin and legs circled his waist while he palmed my ass and rubbed my center over his thick cock. I knew almost nothing about my stepbrother, but in that moment, I didn’t care.
We didn’t fuck that day. Hell, we barely said a word to each other. But we did make each other come.
After toweling off, we headed inside and went to our side of the house. With every step, the air crackled more. My skin buzzed with the memory of his touch. My swollen lips tingled in the aftermath of his kiss.
I wanted him, but my stepbrother was off-limits. That’s what my mind told me. My body believed otherwise.
So I went to my door while he went to his. In the brief seconds I had his back, the ache between my thighs borderline unbearable, I made a bold move. When he turned to say something before stepping into his room, my bikini top fell to the floor.
Greed and hunger dilated his pupils as his cock tented his swim shorts. I bent at the waist, flashing him my ass, and plucked the fabric from the floor. When I straightened, he grabbed his dick and squeezed.
“Thanks for the orgasm,” I said before ducking into my room and shutting the door.
His groan echoed through the walls.
As I stripped out of my bottoms and dried off further, I swear I heard him moan. Then I heard it again and knew what he was up to. Although we’d both come in the pool minutes ago, he was in his room jerking off.
And fuck, did that turn me on.
Crawling onto my bed, I leaned against the pillows and got comfortable. A wall separated us, but I felt him everywhere. I spread my legs, sent one hand to the junction of my thighs while the other tugged at a nipple.
Then he moaned again. Louder this time. Deep, throaty, intentional. He wanted me to hear him.
So I let him hear me too.
The following weekend, our parents had a dinner date with friends. They’d be gone hours.
Shortly after they left, he walked into my room without knocking and held up a credit card. “Dinner money. Interested?”
We ordered pizza and dessert, found a movie to watch, and fell into comfortable silence on the couch. When the boxes emptied, he took them to the kitchen. I didn’t miss how he left no space between us when he sat back down.
The room felt smaller, the air thicker as we pretended to watch the movie.
Then his hand was on my thigh at the hem of my shorts, his thumb lazily stroking my skin, lighting a fire. In a matter of minutes, his hand drifted higher as he turned and took my mouth.
That was the first time I fucked my stepbrother.
Every night since, he has been in my bed, or I’ve been in his. After all the lights go out, after our parents check the locks and the house goes quiet, one of us leaves our room. Most nights, he comes to mine.
He kisses me like he owns me, like he is mine and I am his.
“Are you wet for me, love?” He rolls his hips and grinds his hard length up my soaked panties.
I palm his ass and rock up into him. “So wet.”
Reaching between us, he drags a hand up my thigh, under the skirt that barely covers my ass, and runs his fingers over my thong. “Fuck, love.” A moan that makes me ache fills the air. “Knowing I do this to you… it hurts how hard I am.”
My hand on his hip goes to his tented shorts. I fist his cock through the cotton. Pinch the head just the way he likes it. “Are you going to fuck me like a good boy?” I shift my fingers to the button of his shorts. “Or should I grab my toy?”
On the next breath, a hand is at my throat, lifting, squeezing, taunting. He tugs at my thong with the other. “This pussy is mine.” He leans in, his nose gliding the length of mine as his fingers dip inside my cunt. “Mine.”
“Yours,” I say on a gasp. Tipping my head back, I hike a leg up and around his waist, rolling my hips to feel him deeper.
Him, this, us… If anyone knew, they would say we’re all wrong. But to us, nothing has ever felt so right.
And I’m tired of fighting what I feel, what I want, who I want.
Lost in the feel of his fingers, I miss when his shorts drop to the floor. What I don’t miss is when he withdraws his fingers.
A pout tugs at my bottom lip as I stare up at him. But before I open my mouth to complain, he thrusts forward and fills me with his cock.
We gasp in unison. The delicious feeling of him deep inside me never gets old.
He grabs my other leg and lifts me off the ground. Then we’re moving. My back hits a wall, and we laugh. But it fizzles out with a roll of his hips.
My eyes roll closed as my arms loop around his neck.
“Fuck, you feel good.” He buries his face in my neck. “Like you were made for me.”
I comb my fingers through his hair and give a tug before I reach the ends. “Harder.”
He pistons his hips faster, gives me more of his weight. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.” His skin slaps mine harder, louder. “Anything for you, love.”
We’re fucking like voracious beasts. Like we will never get enough of each other. And I love every depraved second of it.
My breaths come in quick bursts as he edges me more. “So. Close.”
“Play with your clit.” He nips the length of my neck until he reaches the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “Come on my cock, love.” Then he wraps his lips around my earlobe and sucks. It’s a straight line to my core.
I drop a hand between us, coat my fingers with my arousal, and play with my clit. Circle it, rub it, flick it, pinch it. Some days I need more pressure than others. But days like today, where I’ve been dying to have him inside me since I woke up, it doesn’t take much.
Within seconds, heat and hunger and the need to come surge inside me. “Oh god,” I say on a whimper. “Don’t stop.”
He bruises my hips with his hands as he pummels me with his cock. “So fucking tight when you come.” Dropping his mouth to my neck, he bites down. Hard.
I detonate around him, my pleasure cries echoing through the house.
And then he spills inside me, his cock pulsing as the rest of him twitches.
We slip into the momentary haze of euphoria as we do every other time. But it doesn’t last.
An audible gasp fills the air.
My eyes widen and search for the source of the sound. Heart hammering and belly cramping, I spot my stepmom, her hand over her mouth as she stares at us, unblinking.
I tap his arm. “Your m-mom,” I whisper-stutter.
He peers over his shoulder and mutters, “Fuck.”
Before my feet hit the floor, she disappears from view.
I don’t see my stepmom or dad until a week later, when we have family dinner. Over roast chicken, mushroom risotto, and steamed vegetables, my dad announces he has news.
It’s another life-changing event. One that really only affects me.
He spoke with a friend who lives on the West Coast and pulled some strings. Since I’ve been “struggling” to choose a college, he found the perfect fit.
As of yesterday, I’m officially enrolled at Portland State University. Although classes don’t start for a few months, Dad has graciously arranged for me to fly out next week and move into my new apartment.
I’d been shocked when Dad hadn’t approached me after my stepmom caught us. Now I know why. He was planning my cross-country move and didn’t want me to object.
When he finishes his spiel about my future, I ask to be excused. He lets me leave without argument.
I go to my bedroom and lock the door. Throw everything unbreakable across the room. Scream into my pillow. Then do it again. And again.
Hours later, my door handle rattles. A light knock follows. “Can I come in?”
I hop off my bed, amble to the door, and unlock it for him. A second after it flies open, I’m in his arms. Warm. Comforted. Momentarily at peace.
“Wish I could fix this,” he mumbles as he strokes gently up and down my back.
“Me too.” I shuffle until I’m able to close and lock the door. Then I peer up at him, cheeks hot and damp. “Fuck me until the world disappears.”
Slowly, he lowers his lips to mine. “Anything for you, love.”
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