Forbidden Desires: Pleasured by My Steps

Josie didn't knock. The front door of Adrian's hillside house was unlocked; the way it always was when he is home. She stepped inside on autopilot, the official envelope from the highway patrol still clutched in her fist, edges damp from how hard she'd been holding it. Rain had started on the drive over. It streaked the tall windows and turned the open-plan living space the color of wet steel.

She opened her mouth to call his name. That's when she heard it. A low, rhythmic slap of skin. A woman's breathy moan. The unmistakable creak of the big leather couch in the sunken living room.

Josie's stomach dropped. She should have left. She should have backed out the door, waited on the porch, pretended she had never heard a thing. Instead her feet carried her forward on silent soles, past the kitchen island, past the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the counter, until she stood at the edge of the sunken steps and saw everything.

Adrian was fucking a blonde on all fours across the couch. He still had his shirt on, a white sleeves rolled to the elbows, the same way he wore it when he worked from home. His trousers were shoved down just far enough. One big hand was locked on the woman's hip; the other is fisted in her hair, holding her arched while he drove into her with deep, measured strokes. The wet sound of it filled the room. Every thrust made her fake tits bounce and tore another high, practiced moan from her throat.

"Harder, baby - fuck, just like that ....arrrggh... yes, yes"

Adrian didn't answer. He never did when he is like this. In the ecstasy of sexual arousal and its pleasures. His face was set in that cold, focused expression Josie had memorized years ago: jaw tight, eyes half-lidded, the muscle in his cheek jumping every time he bottomed out. He fucked like he did everything else - controlled, relentless, as if the woman under him was just another problem to solve.

Josie's heart cracked clean down the middle. She had loved him since she was seventeen and he was always a man who looked at her like she was a child. She had loved him through her mother's wedding to his father, through every cold holiday, through every time he called her "kid" and walked away.

She had loved him in secret, in silence, in the dark with her own hand between her legs pretending it was his. And now she stood in his living room watching him bury his cock in some nameless woman while the bodies of their parents were still warm in the morgue.

The blonde whimpered. Adrian shifted the angle, hips snapping harder. The wet slap grew louder. Josie could see everything - the thick, glistening length of him disappearing into the woman, the way her cunt stretched around him, the shine of her arousal coating his shaft. He reached under and rubbed her clit with two fingers. The woman came with a shrill cry, thighs shaking. Adrian didn't stop. He fucked her through it, chasing his own release, his breath turning rough.

Josie couldn't move. She couldn't breathe properly. Heat pulsed low in her belly even as tears burned the backs of her eyes. Betrayal, jealousy and want twisted together until she felt sick with it. She wished she was the woman beneath her step brother at that moment.

Adrian's rhythm stuttered. He buried himself to the hilt, gripped the woman's hips hard enough to leave marks, and came with a low, guttural sound that Josie felt in her own cunt. For a long second he stayed locked inside the blonde, head dropped forward, shoulders rising and falling.

Then he pulled out. A thick rope of cum followed, sliding down the woman's thigh onto the leather. Only then did he look up. Their eyes met.

Adrian went completely still. The blonde was still panting face-down on the couch, oblivious. Josie stood frozen on the top step, with her rain-damp coat, white-knuckled envelope, heart shattered and somehow still beating too fast between her legs.

He recovered first. He pulled his trousers up, zipped, and spoke without looking at the woman still sprawled on his couch.

"Get dressed and get out." The blonde lifted her head, saw Josie, and scrambled for her clothes with a nervous laugh. "Shit – sorry ... I didn't notice"

"Out." Adrian said coldly. She left through the side door without another word. The latch clicked. Silence crashed down.

Adrian dragged a hand through his hair. His gaze flicked to the envelope in Josie's fist, then back to her face. Whatever he saw there made his expression tighten.

"Josie." She hated how her name sounded in his mouth. Soft. Almost careful. As if he hadn't just finished inside someone else while she stood there breaking.

"They're dead," she said. Her voice came out flat, scraped raw. "My mom and your dad. There was a car accident on the coast highway this morning. Both of them died instantly."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Adrian didn't move for a full three seconds. Then he exhaled once, slow, and the controlled mask slipped just enough for her to see the impact land. He sat down hard on the arm of the couch - the same couch still shiny with what he'd done - and scrubbed both hands over his face.

"Oh my God ....." he let out a long sigh.

Josie stayed where she was. She could still smell sex in the room: sweat, cum, expensive perfume that wasn't hers. Her thighs were pressed together so tightly they ached. She hated herself for noticing. She hated him more for existing in the same space as the grief.

"I needed to tell you in person, that's why I came over" she said. "The police are waiting for one of us to come identify. I couldn't... I couldn't do it alone."

Adrian lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry. He looked at her for a long time at the way she was holding herself together by pure force of will, at the tremor in her hands, at the flush still high on her cheeks that had nothing to do with crying.

Something unreadable moved behind his gaze. "Come here."

"No." Josie retorted with obvious anger in her voice.

"Josie."

"I walked in on you fucking some stranger ten minutes after I found out my mother is dead." Her voice cracked on the last word. "Don't tell me to come here."

He stood and crossed the room. Then stopped close enough that she had to tip her head back to hold his eyes. Up close she could see the faint sheen of sweat still at his temple, the mark of the other woman's lipstick near his collar. Her stomach twisted with fresh jealousy so sharp it felt like nausea.

"I didn't know you were coming," he said quietly.

"Obviously... you didn't" she gave him a mocking smirk.

"I'm sorry you saw that."

"Are you sorry you did it?"

The question hung between them, raw and dangerous. Adrian's jaw flexed. He didn't answer. Instead he reached out and carefully, carefully, took the crumpled envelope from her hand. Their fingers brushed. The contact went through her like a live wire.

He opened it. Read the sparse official language. Folded it again with precise care and set it on the side table.

When he looked at her again his voice was lower.

"I'll handle the identification. You don't have to go to the morgue."

"I'm going."

"Then we should go together."

Josie laughed once, bitter and wet. "Just like that? You're going to play the responsible older brother now? After I just watched you come inside your latest whore on the same couch I'm supposed to sit on?"

Something dark flashed in his eyes. He stepped closer. She refused to step back.

"Watch your mouth."

"Or what?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, sharp with grief and years of swallowed want. "You'll bend me over and fuck me too? Is that the consolation prize for orphaned little stepsisters?"

The air between them ignited.

Adrian's hand came up - not to touch her, not quite. It hovered near her cheek, close enough that she felt the heat of his palm. His gaze dropped to her mouth for one unguarded second. When he spoke, the words were rough.

"You have no idea what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying." Her voice shook. "I've been saying it in my head since I was seventeen. You just never wanted to hear it."

There was a moment of silence that was thick and charged.

Outside, rain hammered the windows harder. Inside, the only sound was their breathing.

Adrian's hand finally dropped. He stepped back, the controlled mask sliding into place again, but his eyes stayed hot.

"Get in the car," he said. "We have to go identify them. After that... we'll talk about everything else."

Josie held his gaze for one more second still heartbroken, furious, and so wet between her thighs she could feel it; and then she turned toward the door.

She didn't look at the couch again. But she felt his eyes on her the entire walk out.

And somewhere under the grief and the jealousy and the years of loving someone who had never looked at her the way she needed, a new and dangerous thought took root: He had seen her watching. He had seen the way her body....

reacted even while her heart broke. And he hadn't backed out.

The funeral ended under a sky the color of wet ash. Josie stood at the double graves until the last of the distant relatives drifted away, black dress clinging to her thighs in the damp air. Adrian had stayed on the opposite side of the open earth the entire time in his dark suit, unreadable face, never once looking at her after the identification the day before. When it was over he simply got into his car and left.

She drove home in silence, the image of him fucking that blonde burned behind her eyes. The wet sound of it. The way his hand had fisted in the woman's hair. The low sound he'd made when he came. Grief and jealousy and raw, humiliating want twisted together until she couldn't breathe.

By nightfall she was climbing the stairs. Then she called the number she hadn't used in eight months. Her Ex.

Marcus picked up on the second ring. "Josie?"

"I need you to fuck me tonight," she said, voice flat. "No talking. No questions. Just make me come until I can't think properly." There was a pause. Then, "Door's unlocked."

******

Josie's apartment smelled like the same cologne Marcus always wore. He met her at the door already shirtless, eyes dark with the kind of uncomplicated hunger she needed. The second the door shut she shoved him backward toward the bedroom, yanking her dress over her head. No bra. No panties. She'd waited prepared.

"Jesus, Josie ..."

"Don't talk."

She pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, already reaching for his belt. His cock sprang free thick and hard. She didn't bother with a condom - she was on the pill and she didn't care. She sank down in one long, greedy stroke, taking every inch until her ass met his thighs.

Marcus groaned, hands flying to her hips. "Fuck...you're soaked ..." Josie braced her palms on his chest and started riding him hard. No build-up. No teasing. Just raw, desperate friction. She lifted almost all the way off and slammed back down, over and over, the wet slap of their bodies loud in the quiet room. Her tits bounced with every thrust. She kept her eyes open but she wasn't seeing Marcus.

She was seeing Adrian. The way he'd looked with his cock buried in someone else. The controlled snap of his hips. The muscle working in his jaw when he came.

"Harder," she ordered, voice already breaking.

Marcus thrust up to meet her, gripping her ass, fucking her from below with the kind of eager force that used to be enough. It wasn't tonight. Josie ground down, circling her hips so his cock dragged against the front wall of her cunt, chasing the angle she needed. Sweat slicked her spine. Her clit rubbed against his pubic bone with every roll.

"Adrian - " The name slipped out before she could stop it.

Marcus's rhythm faltered for half a second. She didn't let him slow. She fucked herself down onto him harder, head tipping back.

"Adrian ... fuck ...yes ... oh yes " she blurted out as she bit on her lower lip.

She came like that, clenching hard around Marcus's cock while the wrong name tore out of her throat. Marcus cursed and kept thrusting, chasing his own release. Josie barely felt it. She was already moving again, chasing another orgasm, mind full of dark hair and cold grey eyes and the memory of cum sliding down another woman's thigh.

They shifted positions without speaking. Marcus flipped her onto her hands and knees and drove back into her from behind. The new angle punched a moan out of her. He fucked her deep and steady, hands locked on her waist. Josie shoved back to meet every thrust, fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Adrian - please - harder - " She gritted her teeth.

She was lost in it now. Every time Marcus bottomed out she saw her stepbrother instead. Imagined it was his cock stretching her open, his handprint on her hip, his voice in her ear. She came a second time with Adrian's name shouted into the mattress, cunt spasming around the man who wasn't him.

Marcus was close, she could feel it in the way his thrusts turned short and frantic. That was when her phone lit up on the nightstand.

"Adrian."

Josie's heart slammed against her ribs. She almost ignored it. Almost. Instead she snatched the phone with one hand, still on all fours, still being fucked, and answered.

"What?" There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then Adrian's voice, low and rough. "Where are you?"

Marcus chose that moment to snap his hips forward especially hard. Josie couldn't stop the broken moan that spilled out of her.

Another silence. Longer this time. "Josie." Adrian's voice had gone darker. "Are you being fucked right now?"

She should have hung up. Instead she pushed back onto Marcus's cock and let the next moan travel straight down the line.

"Yes."

Marcus groaned behind her, oblivious or past caring, and started pounding her in earnest. The wet, filthy sound of it was impossible to miss. Josie's free hand clenched the sheets. She kept the phone pressed to her ear.

Adrian exhaled once - slow, controlled, and somehow more intimate than anything happening to her body.

"Put me on speaker."

Her fingers shook as she did it. The phone dropped to the pillow beside her face. Marcus's thrusts kept rocking her forward. Every time he buried himself she whimpered.

Adrian's voice filled the room, quiet and lethal. "Tell me what he's doing to you."

Josie's eyes fluttered shut. "Fucking me. From behind, so hard."

"Is his cock as deep as you need it?" he teased her.

"No." The word came out wrecked. "Not even close."

Marcus grunted and gripped her hips tighter, taking it as a challenge. He slammed into her harder. Josie cried out.

On the other end of the line she heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper. Then the soft, rhythmic shift of fabric. Adrian was stroking himself. Listening to her get fucked by someone else.

"Say my name again," he ordered, voice tight. "The way you always did when you are angry."

Josie's orgasm coiled vicious and sudden. She shoved back onto Marcus's cock and let it break over her.

"Adrian...fuck ... Adrian -"

She came hard, thighs shaking, cunt clamping down in strong pulses. Marcus cursed and followed her over, burying himself deep as he finished inside her. The hot flood of it only made her clench harder.

Through the phone she heard Adrian's breathing turn ragged. The wet sound of his fist working his cock grew louder. He didn't speak. He just listened to her breathless aftershocks while he stroked himself on the other side of the city.

When he came it was with a low, bitten-off groan that went straight between Josie's legs all over again. Silence stretched for several seconds. Only their breathing - hers, Marcus's, Adrian's; all shared across the open line.

Then Adrian spoke, voice rough and spent and dangerous. "Come to my house tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. We need to talk about the will."

The call ended. Josie stayed on her hands and knees, Marcus still softening inside her, the phone dark on the pillow. Cum leaked down her thighs. Her pulse roared in her ears.

She had screamed another man's name while someone else fucked her. And Adrian had listened to every second of it. Her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

Josie woke already wet. It wasn't new. She had always been addicted to sex. She always gets wet at the slightest touch on her thigh. Grief hadn't dried her out; it had done the opposite. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the blonde on Adrian's couch, or felt Marcus's cock from last night while Adrian listened on the phone and stroked himself. Her body didn't care that her mother was in the ground. It only knew hunger.

The doorbell rang at 9:14. She opened it in an oversized shirt and nothing else.

Adrian stood on her porch in a dark sweater and jeans, water in his hair, a paper bag of coffee in one hand. He looked like he hadn't slept. His eyes dropped once to Josie it landed on her bare thighs, the hem of the shirt riding high, then locked back on her face.

"I came to see how you were," he said.

Josie stepped aside. "Come in, then." He did. The door clicked shut. The house still smelled faintly of last night's perfume and sex she hadn't fully washed off. She didn't hide it. She wanted him to notice.

They sat at the kitchen table like civilized people. He pushed a coffee toward her. She didn't drink it.

"The lawyer confirmed eight tonight," Adrian said. "The will. The clause. All of it. We go through it together."

"I know." Silence stretched. Rain ticked against the windows. Josie watched his hands around the cup, the same hands that had been on another woman's hips two days ago, the same hands that had been on himself last night while she moaned his name into a stranger's ear.

"You listened to me moan yester night," she said.

His jaw tightened. "and you answered amid sex."

"You told me to put you on speaker."

"And you did?" he scoffed.

Josie leaned back in the chair. The shirt rode higher. She didn't fix it. "I'm still angry at you."

"I know I can sense it"

"For the blonde. For walking around like none of this touches you. For making me scream your name while someone else was inside me."

Adrian's gaze didn't move from hers. "Josie."

She tilted her head. The question came out quiet and vicious. "Do you want to fuck me?"

The air in the kitchen went thin.

Adrian didn't answer.

He looked at her mouth, then at the open collar of the shirt, then at the bare line of her thigh. Something raw moved behind his eyes - want he'd spent years burying under the word "stepsister". Her body had lived in his head longer than he would ever admit. The curve of her hips. The way she walked. The wet heat he could almost smell from across the table.

He still didn't answer. He stood. Picked up his keys.

"Eight o'clock," he said. "My house. Don't be late."

Then he walked out. The door shut behind him. Josie held his car pull away.

Josie sat there with her pulse between her legs, so swollen it hurt. She didn't follow him. She went straight to the bedroom, stripped the shirt off, and dropped onto the mattress face-down. She dragged a firm pillow between her thighs and started grinding.

It was crude and desperate. She rolled her hips against the seam, clit dragging over cotton, already soaked through in seconds. She pictured him still standing in her kitchen, still not answering, still hard in his jeans while he pretended he could walk away. She worked herself on the pillow in short, filthy strokes, moaning into the sheets, thighs trembling.

"Adrian -" The name slipped out wrecked. "Fuck me please ..."

She came fast and messy, hips jerking, wetting the pillow through. It wasn't enough. It never was. She kept grinding through the aftershocks until her clit felt raw, then she collapsed on her side, breathing hard, still throbbing.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of showers she didn't finish and clothes she kept changing. By seven-thirty she was dressed for the meeting: black dress, clean lines, looking composed enough to sit across a table and talk about estates and guardianship clauses.

Underneath, she was already slick again.

At 7:41 she locked the bathroom door, hiked the dress up, and took the slim vibrator from the drawer. She sat on the closed lid of the toilet, spread her knees, and pressed the blunt head to her entrance. She was so wet it slid in with almost no resistance. She pushed it deep, then deeper, until it seated fully inside her. The remote went into her clutch.

She stood. Smoothed the dress down. Took one step and felt the toy shift. Another step. A small, involuntary clench.

She turned the lowest setting on for three seconds, just long enough to feel it buzz against the front wall of her cunt; then switched it off. She wanted it in her for the drive. For the moment she walked into his house. For the second he looked at her across the documents and had no idea she was already full.

At 7:52 she locked her front door and got in the car. The vibrator sat heavy and quiet inside her the whole way to his house.

Eight o'clock. She was going to walk in wet, stretched, and ready. And this time, she wasn't going to ask if he wanted to f**k her. She was going to make him answer....