Good Girl on Her Knees
1293 Words
“Oh my fucking..., f**k!… yes, please don’t stop.”
It's another night. Another night that screams punched through my bedroom wall like knives, high and needy and so f*****g loud I knew he wanted me to hear every single one. It was deliberate. He’d waited until I walked past his door twenty minutes ago, gave me that lazy smirk, then pulled some redhead inside and locked it behind them. Now the headboard was slamming so hard the pictures in my room rattled.
I was on my bed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and a pair of pink cotton panties that were already ruined. My fingers were between my legs before I could stop myself, rubbing frantic circles over my c**t, chasing the orgasm he’d stolen from me last night in the gym. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Another scream ripped through the wall. “I’m gonna f*****g come!... Oh my God.”
Something inside me snapped.
I was off the bed and marching down the hallway before my brain caught up. My bare feet were silent on the marble. His door was cracked open just enough for the sounds of the wet slaps, her moans, his low growls, enough for everything to spill out.
I shoved it wide.
The redhead was bent over the edge of his bed, ass in the air, t**s swinging with every brutal thrust. Jax was behind her, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip. His sweats were gone. That perfect c**k I’d only ever seen from shadows was slick and huge, disappearing into her over and over.
They both froze when they saw me.
The girl opened her mouth (probably to scream at the crazy girl in the doorway) but I didn’t give her the chance.
I really think I'm going crazy. Completely crazy.
“Get the f**k out.”
My voice didn’t even sound like mine. It was cold. Deadly.
Jax’s eyes locked on me, dark and dangerous, c**k still buried deep inside her. He didn’t move. Didn’t pull out. He just stared, chest heaving, lips curling into the cruelest smile I’d ever seen.
The redhead whimpered, tried to push up. “Who the hell.”
I stepped forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and yanked her off him. She stumbled, naked and gaping, clutching her dress to her chest.
“Out,” I snarled. “Now.”
She looked at Jax like he was going to save her.
He didn’t.
He just pulled out slow and deliberate, letting me see every inch of him glistening with her, thick and angry-red, veins pulsing. Then he wrapped a hand around the base and stroked once, while his eyes never left mine.
The girl ran.
The door slammed behind her.
Silence.
Just the two of us. Him naked, c**k dripping, me in a T-shirt that barely covered my ass and panties soaked so completely they clung to my p***y lips like paint.
Jax tilted his head. “Jealous, little sister?”
I didn’t answer with words.
I walked straight to him, climbed onto his lap while he was still standing, and straddled him. His c**k slid along the soaked cotton between my legs, hot and heavy and perfect. I rolled my hips once, grinding my c**t against the underside of his shaft, and moaned like a w***e.
His hands clamped on my hips hard enough to bruise.
“Scarlett,” he warned, voice gravel and sin.
I did it again, harder, coating him in my wetness, marking him the way he’d marked every girl he ever knew, except me.
“You want to f**k her in front of me?” I whispered against his mouth. “Fine. But you’ll finish with me.”
His eyes flashed. For one terrifying second I thought he’d throw me off.
Instead he spun us, slammed my back onto the mattress, and flipped me over his knee like I weighed nothing.
My T-shirt rode up. My panties were yanked down to my thighs in one violent pull.
The first spank landed so hard I screamed.
“Count,” he growled.
Smack.
“One!”
Another, harder, right on the same spot.
“Two… f**k… Jax!”
He didn’t stop. His palm rained down on my bare ass, left cheek, right cheek, over and over until I was sobbing, kicking, dripping onto his bare thigh. The pain melted into something white-hot and filthy, every strike sending a jolt straight to my c**t.
By ten I was a mess. My ass was on fire, my p***y clenching, tears soaking his sheets.
He paused, spread my cheeks wide with one hand, and blew cool air over my soaked cunt.
“Look at you,” he rasped. “Pained and creaming for your own stepbrother. Such a nasty little girl.”
I whimpered, tried to push back, desperate for friction.
He laughed darkly and slid two thick fingers straight into me.
No warning. No gentleness.
Just deep, curling, merciless.
I came almost immediately, violently, squirting all over his hand and thigh in messy pulses that left me shaking and gasping his name like a prayer.
He didn’t let me come down.
He f****d me through it, adding a third finger, stretching me open while his thumb pressed my c**t in brutal circles. He slammed into me before i finished, harder, longer, until I was sobbing and gushing like I’d never stop.
When he finally pulled his fingers free, I was limp, boneless, ruined.
He flipped me onto my back, straddled my chest, and shoved those dripping fingers into my mouth.
“Taste yourself,” he ordered, eyes black with lust. “Taste how f*****g disgusting you are for me.”
I sucked greedily, licking every drop, moaning around his fingers like the depraved little sister I was.
His c**k hovered inches from my face, flushed and leaking pre-c*m, still slick from her.
He wrapped a hand around it, stroked once, slow and filthy.
“Open.”
I did.
He fed me his c**k inch by inch until I gagged, my throat full of him and the faint taste of another girl. He f****d my mouth slow and deep, hips rolling, one hand tangled in my hair.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Clean her off me. Every last drop. Let's decide who this c**k really belongs to.”
I took him deeper, hollowed my cheeks, swallowed around him until my eyes watered and my jaw ached.
He was close. I could feel it in the way his thighs tensed, the way his grip turned brutal.
But right when his c**k started to pulse, he pulled out.
Ropes of c*m painted my lips, my tongue, my cheeks, hot and thick and endless.
He smeared it across my face with the head of his c**k.
Then he leaned down, licked a stripe through his own mess, and kissed it into my mouth, filthy and possessive.
When he finally pulled back, I was trembling, covered in him, aching so badly between my legs I could barely think.
He tucked himself away, calm as anything, and stood.
I reached for him, desperate.
He caught my wrist, pinned it to the bed.
“Brothers don’t f**k their little sisters, Scarlett,” he said softly, cruelly. “And you just earned yourself a week of this p***y staying empty.”
He walked to the door, paused, and looked back at me (sprawled on his bed, panties around my thighs, face painted with his c*m, ass red from his hand).
“Sleep tight, baby sister.”
The door clicked shut.
I lay there shaking, destroyed, owned, and already counting the seconds until I was bad enough for him to do it all again.
- Writer
