I Blackmailed My Stepbrother Into F*cking Me

1112 Words
Ava's pov Caleb Reed has had his hand between my thighs for three seconds, and I'm pretending to be asleep. 
I'm in a resort bed next to my stepbrother with a pillow wall that stopped meaning anything an hour ago. His fingers are tracing the seam of my sleeping shorts over my p***y with a touch so light I could convince myself I'm dreaming if my heart wasn't trying to crack my ribs. He caught me m**********g when I was fifteen. Walked into my room, saw everything on my screen, saw my hand in my panties, and said, "Interesting taste, sweetheart," before walking away. He never told anyone. Instead, he kept it and used it for three years like a loaded gun. Three years of holding the most humiliating moment of my life over my head while looking at me with green eyes that never miss a thing. The worst part is that, ever since that incident, he's all I can think about. Every night, I c*m to the thought of him and hate myself and do it again the next night. Now he's touching me while I pretend I'm asleep. His thumb presses against my c**t through cotton, and the pressure sends a current up my spine. I bite the inside of my cheek and keep my breathing even. His thumb circles. Slow. Feeling the heat of me through the fabric. "I know you're wet," he whispers, talking to himself. "You're always wet around me." My p***y clenches against his thumb, and more wetness soaks through. He feels it because his breath catches and his thumb presses harder. He hooks his finger under my waistband and pulls my shorts to the side. Cool air hits my bare p***y. He pauses. Waiting. I don't move. I need to know how far he'll go. His finger drags through me bare. One long stroke from my entrance to my c**t, and the slickness he finds makes him exhale through his nose. He lets out a shaky breath like the reality exceeded every version he'd imagined. He parts me, spreads my wetness, and circles my c**t with his fingertip. "So f*****g soaked," he whispers. "Three years and she's been this wet the whole time." He pushes a finger inside me. Slow and careful. My walls grip him, and a tiny sound escapes my lips. He freezes. I turn my head like a sleep shift. Three seconds. He pushes deeper. "f**k," he breathes. "This has to be the tightest p***y I've ever felt." He pumps in a rhythm that's unhurried and devastating. My hips roll toward his hand in my "sleep." He adds a second finger, and the stretch makes my mouth fall open against the pillow. He curls them, finds my G-spot, then he presses.
The orgasm rips through me before I can stop it. My p***y clamps on his fingers in spasms, and a moan leaks into the pillow. My thighs squeeze his hand. My back arches. I c*m on my stepbrother's fingers pretending to be unconscious, and the effort of not screaming makes my jaw ache and my eyes water. He holds his fingers inside me through every pulse. When my body goes limp, he pulls them out, and I hear the wet sound of him putting them in his mouth. Tasting me in the dark. "f**k," he whispers. Then I hear a zipper.
My heart races as panic sweeps through me. He shifts on the bed, and I feel something hot and hard pressing against my inner thigh. His c**k. He's taken it out. The heat of it against my skin makes my p***y clench around nothing. He positions between my legs. I feel the head of his c**k drag through my slit, collecting the wetness, sliding through the mess he just made with his fingers. He rubs his c**k head against my c**t, and the contact on my oversensitive c**t makes my thighs twitch, and I disguise it as a sleep shift. He nudges my entrance. The thick, blunt head pressed against my opening. Spreading me just enough that I can feel the stretch starting. My heart is slamming so hard he must be able to see it in my throat. He pushes. Just the tip. The head of his c**k sinks into me an inch, and my walls grip him. The stretch is bigger than his fingers, thicker. The feeling of a c**k entering me, even barely after years of fantasizing about this exact man, is so overwhelming that I almost break character. He holds there. One inch inside his stepsister. I can feel him pulsing against my walls. His breathing is ragged. "f**k," he whispers. "I can't. She's asleep. I can't do this." He pulls out. The loss makes my body scream.
He tucks himself away, and the mattress shifts. He's getting up. He's leaving. He's going back to his side of the bed after putting his fingers inside me, and his c**k at my entrance. After tasting me and making me c*m, he's just going to leave? No. I can't allow that. I grab his wrist, and his whole body freezes.
I open my eyes. The room is dark, but I can see his face. The shock on it, the caught-red-handed panic, and under that, something darker. Want. Raw and barely contained. "I've been awake the whole time," I say. My voice is wrecked and low and doesn't sound like mine.
He doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. "You put your fingers inside me," I tighten my grip on his wrist. "You put your c**k in me. And now you're going to walk away?" "Ava—" "Finish what you started." I pull his hand back between my legs. His fingers touch my soaked p***y, and his jaw clenches. "Or I tell Mom and your dad exactly what their son does to his stepsister while she sleeps." The panic in his eyes dies. What replaces it is the look I've been terrified of and fantasizing about for three years. The smirk. The dark, certain confidence of a man who just got permission to do everything he's been holding back. "You wouldn't tell them," he says. "Try me." "Because then they'd know their perfect little daughter was lying there pretending to sleep while she came on my fingers. That she was soaking wet before I even touched her." He pushes two fingers inside me, and I gasp. "That she's dripping right now, begging her stepbrother to f**k her." "I'm not begging," I bite out through my teeth. He curls his fingers into my G-spot, and my back arches, and a moan tears from my throat. "You will soon enough," he says.
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