Addicted to my stepbrother

"Tamara."

Julian's voice was rough. His hand left the gear shift and clamped onto my knee. My breath caught hard.

He looked at me, desire burning through his blue eyes. "Ive been watching you all week, you little slut. I saw you walking up and down this house in those little shorts showing me your tight ass, pretending to bend over so that I could see that amazing body of yours teasing my cock, you know what your doing dont you Tam?" Walking past my room with your nipples poking through your top, knowing your step-brother is stroking his cock thinking about ruining you."

"No." I'm not... I stammered.

"Bullshit." His hand pull up my thigh, rough and greedy, His fingers digging into my soft flesh. "You want this. You've been dripping for your stepbro cock all week, right?"

He put his fingers into my waistband and ripped my shorts down in one yank. My soaked pussy was exposed, my juices dripping down my thighs already. He didn't wait. Two thick fingers slammed into me, digging deep, stretching my tight cunt open.

"Fuuuuck," I moaned, My hips jerking like a bitch in heat, grinding down on his hand shamelessly.

Julian groaned low, pumping them in and out. "Look at this greedy little pussy. Soaked and clenching on my fingers like it's addicted. You've been craving this, haven't you? Your own step-brother finger fucking you in the car like a cheap whore."

He pushed deeper, curling hard, scissoring my walls while his thumb mashed my swollen clit. My juices coated his hand, dripping down his wrist onto the leather seat. I was making wet sounds with every thrust of his fingers.

"Julian... please... more..."

"Begging already? Such a nasty little stepsister." He added a third finger, stretching me painfully wide, digging relentlessly into my dripping cunt. The burn mixed with pleasure until I was shaking. He leaned in, biting my neck hard. "This pussy is mine now. Say it."

"It's yours...fuck, my pussy belongs to my step brother!"

I was dripping everywhere, my swollen pussy lips spread around his thick fingers, clit throbbing hard. "Touch my clit harder...fuck, please."

He rubbed it rough, fast circles, and my whole body spasmed. "Oh my Julian...fuck! I'm gonna..."

"Not yet." He pulled his fingers out, dripping with my cream, and shoved them into my mouth. "Suck. Taste how much your step brother turns you on."

I sucked greedily, moaning around his fingers while he freed his cock. It sprang out, hard as steel, veins bulging, the fat head dripping precum and curving slightly.

"You're taking every inch of this cock, Tam. Gonna ruin that tight little pussy until you can't walk straight."

He tore my tank top off, latched onto my tit and sucked hard enough to bruise, teeth digging in while he slapped my soaked pussy with his heavy cock. Then he shoved me back. My ass slapped against the leather as he lined up and drove in, slow at first, forcing my pussy to stretch around his thick cock.

"Uhhhhh, fuck... it's too big." I gasped, but my cunt was sucking him deeper anyway, greedy and sinful.

He bottomed out, balls deep, and groaned like an animal. "So fucking tight. This pussy was made for your step brother's cock. Feel how it's gripping me? Like it never wants to let go."

Then he snapped.

He fucked me like he wanted to ruin me. The car dancing with every savage thrust, his heavy balls slapping my soaked ass.

My tits bounced wildly. I screamed, My nails digging bloody lines into his back, My pussy gushing around his cock.

"Harder...fuck me harder, you madarchod!" I cried, My legs locked around him. "Destroy my pussy! Ruin me for anyone else!"

"Yeah? You love it, don't you?" He pounded deeper, grinding against my cervix with every brutal stroke. "Filthy little randi. Say it louder."

"I'm your filthy randi...ahhh fuck, don't you dare stop! I'm addicted to your cock! I need it deeper, please fuck your stepsister's cunt harder!"

His cock dug into me relentlessly, hitting that spot over and over until I was shaking, soaking the seat, drooling, lost in the sin of it. The wet squelching of my dripping pussy filled the car as he railed me without mercy.

He flipped me suddenly, bending me over the seat, ass up. He slammed back in from behind, one hand fisting my hair, the other slapping my ass red.

"Take it. Take your step-brother's cock like the addicted whore you are."

I came hard, screaming, My pussy spasming and squirting around him. But he didn't stop. He kept digging deeper, chasing his own release.

"Gonna cum," he snarled. "Where do you want it, slut?"

"My mouth, please feed me with your loads!"

He pull it out, grabbed my hair and shoved his wet cock down my throat. I gagged hard, choking as his thick load exploded straight into my stomach.

He kept fucking my mouth, fucking my face, pumping more and more until his cum was spilling out the corners of my mouth, running down my chin onto my tits in sticky white creams. I coughed and gagged, tears falling with the mess, but I kept sucking, addicted to his taste.

I swallowed enough, but still got it dripping down my lashes as I looked up at him, wrecked and filthy.

"Behenchod..." I whispered, My voice hoarse.

He smirked, still hard and hungry, stroking his cum slick cock against my cheek.

I woke up gasping, my hand shoved between my thighs. My shorts were soaked my pussy still throbbing and dripping from the dream.

The clock says 3:07 AM. The fan spun lazily above me while my fingers kept rubbing my swollen clit, chasing that filthy high.

"Fuck... I'm sick," I whispered into the dark. "Can't believe I'm this addicted to dreaming about my own step brother's cock... I need help."

But even saying that, I dipped my fingers inside my soaked pussy, imagining it was his thick cock again. The footsteps in the hallway grew louder, heavy and angry stopping right outside my door.

Shit.

The footsteps stopped right outside my door.

I held my breath.

For a second, I thought the handle would turn.

Instead, Mum yelled through the door.

"Tamara! Will you stop making so much noise? It's three in the morning, for Christ's sake!"

The room was thick with the scent of sex and shame. My thighs were sticky with my own juices, my tank top rucked up, and my fingers still carried the evidence of what I'd just done.

"Yes, got it," I called back, my voice barely audible. "Sorry."

I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling and trying to steady my breathing. My whole body still shook now and then, the last waves of pleasure refusing to let me go. The dream had been too vivid. Julian's hands gripping my hips, his thick cock stretching me open in his car, while I took every inch like a slut.

I stripped the ruined sheets off in the dark, balled them up angrily, and shoved them into the hamper. The walk to the bathroom felt shameful.

I took a long, cold shower, it did nothing. The fire stayed right where it was, in between my legs.

By six I was in the studio, desperate for any distraction. The strong smell of paint stung my eyes as I poured too much into the jar. My brush pushed into the crimson exactly how Julian's cock had pushed into me.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" I yelled. This wasn't working. My fucking stepbrother with his thick cock.

I worked furiously, sweat making my tank top cling to my back. But no matter how hard I painted, I couldn't escape the dream. I remembered everything.

A soft knock pulled me out of the spiral.

"Tamara?"

Andrew. Of course it was him.

I didn't turn around. The brush kept moving across the canvas.

"You missed breakfast," he said, voice smooth and sweet, the same tone he used when flirting with waitresses before leaving them absurd tips.

"Not hungry," I lied, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "Working."

The door opened anyway. He stepped inside, filling the tiny studio with his presence. His shoulders nearly brushed the frame, and his robe hung loose, gaping at the chest to reveal a patch of graying hair over a chest that still looked strong.

"You've been in here since dawn," he continued, voice low. "Your mother's worried. She said you were... restless last night. Moaning in your sleep."

My pussy clenched so hard I nearly dropped the brush. A fresh gush of wetness soaked into my shorts. I pressed my thighs together, trying to ignore the heavy throb.

"Nightmare," I muttered. "Exhibition stress. You know how it is."

"Mm." I caught his reflection in the window glass.

"Didn't look like a nightmare to me." The words slid out of his mouth.

"I've got three pieces due by Friday," I said tightly, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm already behind. Can we not do this right now?"

Andrew lifted both hands, palms out, as though trying to calm a wild animal.

"Just checking in, sweetheart. A girl your age should have... other outlets. You can't spend all your time locked away in here."

He backed toward the door slowly, that polite smile never leaving his face.

The door clicked shut behind him.

I threw the palette across the room. Paint splattered across the floorboards. My hands were shaking. My breasts ached under my crossed arms, nipples so tight they hurt with every breath. Between my legs, my pussy was throbbing, aching so badly I wanted to scream. I whispered every filthy name I knew under my breath.

"Madharchod... dickhead... bastard," but it didn't help.

I needed air. I needed to get the image of Julian's thick, veiny, curved, juicy cock out of my head before I did something insane like hunt him down in this house and beg him to ruin me.

I shoved the window open. Warm morning air rushed in, carrying the faint scent of chlorine and summer. That's when I saw him.

Julian was climbing out of the pool at the bathhouse, hidden behind the tall trees at the edge of the estate. Water streamed down his muscular body. The wet swim shorts clung to his hips, outlining every heavy inch of his cock.

A dark trail of hair led down from his navel, disappearing into the waistband.

My mouth watered instantly. I remembered how it looked fully hard, for even his own hand to wrap around comfortably.

"Fuck," I whispered, voice barely audible.

My hand moved down without permission, sliding between my thighs. I cupped my soaked pussy through the thin shorts, pressing the heel of my palm hard against my swollen clit. I rocked once, twice, biting my lip to stay quiet. The pressure felt so good it made my eyes flutter.

Julian straightened up, slinging a towel over one broad shoulder. Then he looked straight up at my window. The glass was tinted, and the sun glare should have hidden me completely. But he smirked at me, like he knew.

My thighs clamped tight around my hand. My clit throbbed in perfect time with my racing heartbeat. I rocked harder, chasing the friction, imagining it was his thick cock instead of my own fingers. The painting behind me blurred into nothing.

I was done pretending, and definitely done fighting it.

I was going to get him. For real this time.

The dining room was filled with the smell of rosted chicken, butter, and warm bread. The room echoed with the sound of clinking glasses. I nibbled at my food, not really tasting any of it.

Across from me, Julian looked as if he just walked out of a boardroom meeting. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms and his tie was loosened, responding to Andrew's questions in a deep voice that had my pussy clenched.

"So," Andrew asked Julian, "how's Meridian?"

"Busy. We're expanding, planning on hiring a few new people within the next couple of weeks."

My heart skipped a beat. I looked down at my food, trying to hide my sudden interest, before looking back up at Julian and clearing my throat.

"I've actually been thinking about looking for a new job."

There was an awkward silence as the whole table turned their attention to me. Andrew raised a curious brow.

"Oh?" he said.

I gave a small nod. "I was wondering if there were any openings at Meridian."

A long, tense pause hung between us as his gaze locked onto mine, studying me. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was quiet. "You want to work at Meridian?"

"Yes," I said, shrugging slightly. "I just heard that you all were expanding, and figured that it would be a good opportunity to learn."

Learn. Right. Learn how to get Julian to take me in his office and make me feel like the little whore i was becoming.

He studied me for a long moment before letting out a slow breath. "We don't give jobs out just because you're family."

"I never asked for special treatment," I said.

Another pause, this time he sounded almost pained when he answered, "Then apply. Like everyone else."

I blinked in surprise. That was it?

So I would have to actually apply. See him every day, working in the office.

I looked down at my plate and bit my lip, trying to stifle grin as I listened at the

conversation resumed.

I walked through the glass doors of Meridian Technologies with a visitor's badge clipped to my blouse and my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird.

The lobby smelled like money, fresh leather, expensive coffee, and the faint metallic tang of air conditioning running too cold. My heels clicked across the floor veined with gold.

You planned this, I told myself. You found the job listing. You tailored your resume. You sat through four rounds of interviews while imagining his cock in your mouth. You did this on purpose.

And now I was here.

"Ms. Verma?" The secretary was blonde, polished, probably fresh out of a sorority. "Mr. Cross is expecting you. Follow me, please."

Mr. Cross. Julian Cross. My stepbrother.

The man who had no idea I'd manipulated my way into his company.

Derek's voice still lived in my head, even now.

"Jesus, Tamara, again?" He'd roll away from me, reaching for his phone, his back already a wall. "We just did it yesterday. What's wrong with you?"

Nothing was wrong with me. Derek just made me feel like there was. Like my cunt was some kind of malfunction, always wet, always hungry, always too much. He'd climb on top of me, pump four times, five if I was lucky and then collapse with a grunt, leaving me staring at the ceiling, my nipples still hard, my hips still rocking against nothing.

"Did you..." I'd start.

"Babe, I'm tired. You know I'm tired."

And then the worst part, the part that burrowed into my brain and made a nest there:

"Maybe if you weren't such a..."

He'd stop himself, but the word hung there anyway. Slut. The thing I was for wanting more than four thrusts and a damp spot on the sheets.

So I learned to hide it. To rub myself in the bathroom after he fell asleep. To bite my pillow and muffle the sounds. To pretend I didn't need what I needed.

Julian, though... Julian didn't make me pretend anything.

The elevator opened onto the executive floor, and the air felt different. Quieter. Heavier. The carpet was so plush my heels sank into it, and every surface gleamed... glass partitions, chrome fixtures, and a conference room with a table big enough to seat thirty.

The secretary chattered about benefits, parking, and the coffee machine in the break room, but I barely heard a word. My pulse was too loud in my ears.

"This is going to be your workspace," she said, stopping in front of a frosted-glass door. "Mr. Cross had it set up especially for you."

The door swung open.

Floor-to-ceiling smart glass surrounded the room on three sides, with my desk positioned dead center like a display case. The fourth wall was solid, paneled in dark wood, with a door marked PRIVATE.

"The glass is privacy-controlled," the secretary explained, gesturing to a small digital panel on my desk. "Right now it's opaque because, well, you know, first day. But you can adjust the transparency with this switch. Gives you a view of the floor."

"Right," I managed. "The floor."

She left me there with a smile that knew exactly nothing.

I set my bag down. Walked to the glass wall in front of my desk. Touched it. Cold. Smooth.

My reflection stared back at me dusky lips parted, a flush creeping up my throat that had nothing to do with the temperature.

He's on the other side.

The thought hit me like a slap. My pussy clenched. Wet. Instantly, embarrassingly wet, the kind of wet that soaked through panties and left a slick trail down my inner thighs.

Because the truth was, the glass wasn't privacy-controlled on my side at all. It was two-way. Smart glass, but the kind where he controlled the transparency.

From his side, it was crystal clear.

From my side, I was staring at my own reflection while Julian Cross sat in his executive suite and watched.

I couldn't see him. But I knew with every nerve in my body, every drop of wetness gathering between my thighs, that he was there. Probably sitting in a leather chair. Probably wearing that smirk I'd seen in my dream, the one that said, I see you, little randi, and I'm going to take what I want.

The flush spread from my throat to my chest. My skin prickled. My nipples tightened so hard they hurt, visible through the silk, and I didn't cover them. Why would I? He'd already seen everything. In my dream, in the desperate way I'd plan this entire situation so I could be exactly where I was right now.

Trapped. Under his gaze.

Unable to see him, unable to know when he was watching or what he was doing while he watched.

"Fuck," I whispered. My breath fogged the glass.

My pussy was pulsing now. That deep, rhythmic throb that started at my clit and radiated outward, making my thighs tremble. I pressed my legs together, but the pressure only made it worse.

The digital panel on my desk blinked. A small green light. READY.

One switch. That's what the secretary said. You can adjust the transparency.

But she was wrong. The switch wouldn't do a thing. Julian had the real control. He decided when the glass turned clear and when it stayed a mirror. He decided when I got to see him and when he got to watch me without me ever knowing.

A door clicked behind the wood-paneled wall. The PRIVATE door. Not opening. Just... settling. As if someone had leaned against it from the other side.

My breath caught. He's right there.

My hand moved before I could stop it, dropping to my skirt and pressing against the front of it, right over my cunt. The pressure shot through me. I bit my lip. Hard. The sting was the only thing keeping me from moaning out loud.

"Uhhhhh, Fuck... I breathed, the word barely more than a whisper.

This was what Derek never understood. This. The way my body responded to wanting to be wanted back. Derek made me feel like my desire was a problem to solve, a fire to smother. Julian made me feel like the fire itself was the point.

I pulled my hand away from my skirt. Forced myself to walk to the desk. Sat down in the expensive leather chair that probably cost more than my last apartment's rent.

The reflection in the glass showed a woman who'd lost the fight before it started. Flushed cheeks. Glassy eyes. Lips wet from where I'd bitten them. My blouse had gone slightly sheer where sweat gathered at my collarbone. I looked exactly like what Derek said I was.

Except Derek was wrong.

I wasn't a slut because I wanted sex. I was a woman who'd spent two years starving herself on purpose, and now there was a feast on the other side of the glass.

I leaned back in the chair and let my knees fall open just slightly.

"You wanted me here," I whispered to my reflection. "I'm here."

The green light on my desk blinked twice.

Then it went dark.

A sharp electronic buzz cut through the silence.

The glass wall in front of me didn't clear.

A heartbeat later, a heavy hand slammed against the other side, right where my reflection's throat was.

I froze.