One nightstand with my stepbrother 3
1118 Words
When I woke up, the first thing I thought was, Where am I?
The sheets were soft. The air smelled like expensive cologne and something warm and masculine. My body ached deliciously, and the soreness between my thighs was a sinful reminder of exactly why I felt like I had been run over, in the best way.
Then it all came back.
Chase.
His mouth. His hands. He moved inside me as if he knew every hidden part of me.
I couldn’t help the smug, satisfied smile that tugged at my lips.
Mission accomplished.
Last night was… incredible. After our first time, I thought I barely survived, but Chase? He wasn’t done. He took me again. And again. And again until my body gave up and all I could do was lie there trembling, begging for a break, even as I didn’t want it to end.
I stretched with a groan, wincing at the soreness. Every part of me had been thoroughly claimed.
But Chase wasn’t in bed.
I sat up and heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. The shower.
My heart thudded with sudden panic.
This was supposed to be a one-night stand. A hot, mind-blowing, no-strings-attached night. I didn’t want to ruin it with awkward morning-after conversations or small talk over coffee. No lingering glances. No pretending this meant something more.
It was perfect.
And I wanted to leave it that way.
So I moved quickly.
I found my dress wrinkled and tossed over a chair. I grimaced. The very picture of a walk of shame. No way I was heading out like that.
My eyes landed on Chase’s black jacket on the floor. Thick, oversized, and still smelling like him. I bit my lip, then shrugged. He wouldn’t mind… probably.
I slipped it on, pushed my feet into my heels, and tiptoed toward the door like a thief in the night.
No notes, no breakfast, no goodbyes.
Just one unforgettable night.
And an escape before reality could catch up.
I slept for hours.
It was the shrill ringing of my phone that finally dragged me from unconsciousness.
“Good morning, Mom,” I mumbled, my voice still hoarse from sleep.
“Young lady,” Mom snapped, “are you seriously just waking up? It’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon!”
Shit.
I sat up quickly, glancing at the glowing red numbers on my bedside clock. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed the rest, probably because Chase had kept me up all night, quite literally, until my body had nothing left to give.
I rubbed my eyes as Mom reminded me about dinner. “Don’t forget, six o’clock sharp. You’re meeting my new husband and his son. Be polite.”
Right. The wedding. Her sixth one, if I was keeping score. And frankly, I wasn’t exactly eager to meet the latest “true love” of her life. I gave it a year, maybe less.
“I’ll be there, Mom,” I sighed, then hung up and fell back into bed.
At 6:15 p.m., I stood outside the restaurant, pulling Chase’s jacket tighter around myself as a gust of wind brushed my bare legs. I hadn’t meant to wear it again, but it was the only thing that made me feel warm after last night.
I stepped inside.
The place was cozy, with upscale linen tablecloths and soft jazz playing in the background. I immediately spotted Mom, her curls bouncing as she laughed at something the man beside her said.
Her new husband.
He was older, yes, but handsome. Silver at his temples, charming eyes, he was dressed impeccably in a dark blazer and crisp shirt. When I joined the table, he stood and pulled me in for a quick hug.
“Miya, it’s a pleasure to meet you finally. I’ve heard so much,” he said warmly.
“Likewise,” I lied.
We made polite conversation. He mentioned his son was running late but insisted we start without him.
Just as I was beginning to relax, enjoying my sparkling water and pretending to be interested in their newlywed banter, a familiar voice stopped me cold.
“Sorry, I’m late.”
My blood turned to ice.
No! It can’t be.
I turned slowly, eyes wide.
And there he was.
Chase.
Wearing a black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, confidence oozing from every inch of him. His gaze swept over the table and landed on me.
My stomach dropped.
He looked completely calm. Controlled. Like he wasn’t the same man who had kissed every inch of my body and made me cry out his name just hours ago.
“No problem, son. Have a seat,” Mom’s new husband said.
“Thanks, Dad.” Chase flashed him a smile and took the seat directly across from me.
Dad?
Wait.
Son?
My pulse thundered in my ears. No. No, no, no.
I had a one-night stand with my mother’s new husband’s son?
I slept with my stepbrother?
I stared at him, hoping for a flicker of shock or recognition, but Chase was unreadable. He was cool and collected. What a bastard.
“Son, meet the new love of my life, Elena,” his father said proudly, “and her beautiful daughter, Miya.”
“Wonderful to meet you, Elena,” Chase said smoothly, leaning over to take my mother’s hand and press a light kiss to her knuckles. “You’re even more stunning than my father described.”
Mom blushed. “Lovely to finally meet you too. I can see the charm runs in the family.”
Chase chuckled. “Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” He turned his eyes to me then, locking onto mine with a glint of mischief. “And you…”
I held my breath.
“Nice to meet you, stepsister.”
He smirked.
I stared at the hand he stretched across the table, knowing exactly what it had done to me last night. Hesitating only a second too long, I placed mine in his, a jolt of heat shooting through me the moment our skin met.
Images from the night flashed in my mind. His mouth, his touch, the way he said my name in the dark.
Pull yourself together, Miya.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I whispered, yanking my hand back too fast.
Chase ordered his food like nothing had happened, jumping right into conversation with Mom and his dad. They laughed, shared stories, and clinked glasses.
And me?
I sat there, silent, staring down at my plate, wondering how the hell I was supposed to survive dinner with the man who had me moaning his name, now calling me stepsister.
- Writer
