SCARLETT’S POV

“Oh… Jax… fuck, yes, right there…”

The moan came through the wall like a deliberate temptation, loud and filthy, the headboard slamming in perfect rhythm.

Another girl. Another night of listening to my stepbrother wreck someone who wasn’t me.

I hated her. I hated how she got to feel him stretch her pussy wide, hated how she screamed his name like he belongs to her. My thighs clenched under the covers, pussy already throbbing, slick and aching from the second I’d heard his bedroom door shut about an hour ago.

I should have stayed in my room. I should have put my earbuds in, turned the music up, pretended I didn’t care.

Instead I was in the home gym at three in the morning, sweat dripping between my tits, rowing so hard my arms burned, trying to outrun the sound of her moans while Jax fucked her brains out.

Another scream. “Jax! I’m gonna come.”

My stroke faltered. The machine rolled back and I collapsed forward, forehead pressed to the cool handle, panting. My tiny black sleep shorts were soaked through, not from sweat. I could feel my arousal sliding down my inner thighs every time I moved, the fabric clinging to my swollen lips like a second skin.

I hated him more than I hated her.

Because I knew exactly what he looked like right now: shirtless, abs flexed, that thick cock glistening as he pounded into her from behind. I’d seen it. Too many times. Through cracked doors, through the glass wall of the pool house, through the gap in the blinds when I was supposed to be asleep. I’d watched him grip hips, slap asses, shove fingers into mouths to shut girls up while he fucks them hard.

And every single time I’d come home, locked my door, and fucked myself raw wishing it was me.

The moans stopped. A door slammed upstairs. I could the sound of heels on marble, her leaving. Then silence.

I couldn’t breathe.

I started rowing again, harder, faster, my thighs spreading wide on the seat, the seam of my shorts rubbing my clit with every pull. I was so desperately horny already, just from listening, just from imagining. One more stroke and I could come.

The gym door clicked shut behind me.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. His scent hit me first, sweat, the exact smell of after-sex, and that stupid expensive cologne.

“Hey, little sister.”

His voice was rough from fucking, low and mocking.

I froze, my hands griped the handles so tight my knuckles went white.

Jax stepped into the mirror in front of me. Shirtless. Gray sweats hanging low on his hips, the outline of his half-hard cock was nearly impossible to miss. A sheen of sweat made every cut of muscle gleam. His eyes, dark, cruel, amused, locked on mine in the reflection.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, tilting his head. “Or did the show keep you up?”

My face burned. My pussy clenched so hard I almost moaned.

He walked closer. Slowly. Like he knew exactly how wet I was. When he stopped behind me, his thighs brushed the backs of mine. Heat rolled off him, and I could smell the different scent of her on him, sweet perfume and sinful fluids.

“Answer me, Scarlett.”

“I was working out,” I lied, voice shaky.

“Bullshit.” His hand settled on the back of my neck, thumb stroking the sweat there. “You were listening. Again.”

I tried to stand. He pushed me back down, firm but not gentle, keeping me bent over the rower.

“Jax.”

“Shh.” His other hand slid down my spine, slow, possessive. When he reached the waistband of my shorts he didn’t ask. He just hooked his fingers inside and peeled them down to mid-thigh in one tug.

Cool air hit my soaked pussy and I whimpered.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, voice darker now. “Look at this greedy little cunt. You’re dripping down your legs, baby sister.”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. His hand cupped me from behind, two thick fingers sliding through my folds without warning, spreading my wetness everywhere.

“Soaked,” he growled against my ear, breath hot. “This all for me? Or were you thinking about someone else while you listened to me fuck her?”

I shook my head frantically. “You. Always you.”

He made a low, satisfied sound and pressed those two fingers inside me in one smooth thrust.

My back arched. A broken cry tore out of my throat as he stretched me open, curling them deep, thumb settling right on my clit.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, pumping slow and filthy. “This pretty pussy’s been waiting for me, hasn’t it? Every time you heard me upstairs, you were in here touching yourself, pretending it was my cock.”

“Yes,” I sobbed, pushing back, trying to take more. “Please, Jax.”

He added a third finger, scissoring them, stretching me until it burned so good I saw stars. His thumb rubbed tight, ruthless circles on my clit, exactly how I did it when I imagined him.

“That’s it,” he crooned, cruel and sweet. “Ride my fingers like the desperate little slut you are.”

I was. God, I was. My hips rolled shamelessly, chasing the pressure, the stretch, the way he owned every inch of me without even trying. My pussy fluttered around him, sucking him deeper, so close.

He stopped.

Yanked his fingers out and left me clenching around nothing, a pathetic whine spilling from my lips.

“No, no, please.”

He brought his hand to my mouth, shoved those three glistening fingers past my lips without asking.

“Suck. All of it,” he ordered.

I did. Eagerly. Licking myself off him, tasting how filthy I was for him, how desperate.

He watched in the mirror, eyes black with lust, cock straining against his sweats.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling his fingers free with a wet pop. “But i still won't make you come.”

I spun around, or tried to. He held me in place, bent over, ass exposed, shaking.

“Jax, please.”

He leaned down, lips brushing my ear, voice dripping with promise and punishment.

“Brothers don’t put their dick in their little sisters, Scarlett.” His hand came down hard on my bare ass, once, twice, three stinging smacks that made me gasp and gush even more. “So you don’t get my cock. You don’t get to come. You just get to ache for me like you’ve been doing. Be a good girl.”

He stepped back. Adjusted himself like it was nothing.

“Clean up your mess,” he said, nodding at the puddle I’d left on the seat. “And Scarlett?”

I looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes.

“If I catch you touching this pussy without my permission again, I’ll tie you to that machine and fuck a girl in that room right. Understand?”

I nodded, trembling, and ruined.

He smirked, turned, and walked out.

The door clicked shut.

I slid to the floor, thighs slick, pussy throbbing so hard it hurt, and cried.

Because I already knew I’d be bad again tomorrow.

And I couldn’t wait for my stepbrother to punish me for it.

“Oh my fucking..., fuck!… 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 fucking 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 clit, 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 fucking 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, tits 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 cock 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 fuck out.”

My voice didn’t even sound like mine. It was cold. Deadly.

Jax’s eyes locked on me, dark and dangerous, cock 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, cock dripping, me in a T-shirt that barely covered my ass and panties soaked so completely they clung to my pussy 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 cock slid along the soaked cotton between my legs, hot and heavy and perfect. I rolled my hips once, grinding my clit against the underside of his shaft, and moaned like a whore.

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 fuck 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… fuck… 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 clit.

By ten I was a mess. My ass was on fire, my pussy 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 fucked me through it, adding a third finger, stretching me open while his thumb pressed my clit 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 fucking disgusting you are for me.”

I sucked greedily, licking every drop, moaning around his fingers like the depraved little sister I was.

His cock hovered inches from my face, flushed and leaking pre-cum, still slick from her.

He wrapped a hand around it, stroked once, slow and filthy.

“Open.”

I did.

He fed me his cock inch by inch until I gagged, my throat full of him and the faint taste of another girl. He fucked 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 cock 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 cock started to pulse, he pulled out.

Ropes of cum painted my lips, my tongue, my cheeks, hot and thick and endless.

He smeared it across my face with the head of his cock.

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 fuck their little sisters, Scarlett,” he said softly, cruelly. “And you just earned yourself a week of this pussy 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 cum, 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.

I still tasted him.

Twelve hours later and I could still feel Jax’s cum drying on my lips. I could still feel the ghost-burn of his palm on my ass. I could still hear that cruel “Sleep tight, baby sister” echoing in my head like a taunt.

I hadn’t slept. I’d lain in bed with my thighs clenched so tight they cramped, pussy throbbing, desperate, dripping onto the sheets every time I remembered how he’d made me squirt like a whore and then left me empty.

I hated him. I needed him. I was losing my fucking mind.

It was three in the afternoon now, sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room. Mom and Richard were at some charity luncheon until evening. The staff had the day off, and the house was supposed to be empty.

I was on the sectional in nothing but an oversized hoodie and a fresh pair of white cotton panties, knees pulled to my chest, trying not to cry from how badly I ached. My fingers kept drifting between my legs, hovering, shaking. One touch and I could fuck myself. He’d forbidden it. I was terrified to disobey and terrified I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

I was so lost in the war inside my own body that I didn’t hear the front door open. I didn’t hear his footsteps. I didn’t notice him at all until his shadow fell over me and that low, dangerous voice sliced straight through the silence.

“Touch that pussy and see what I'll do.”

I yelped and jerked upright. My heart slammed against my ribs.

Jax stood at the entrance of the living room, still in the same black shirt and jeans he’d worn this morning. He looked freshly showered, damp hair, jaw sharp. He looked like he’d spent the night buried in someone else and then washed her off just to come torture me.

He’d seen me this morning. I’d waited outside his bedroom like a pathetic little puppy when he finally came in at nine. He’d walked right past me, phone to his ear, and didn’t even glance down. He acted like I was invisible.

Now his eyes were locked on me like I was the only thing in the world.

“Jax.”

“On your knees,” he said calmly. “Right there on the rug.”

My body obeyed before my brain caught up. I slid off the couch. The hoodie rode up to my waist and my panties flashed white against the dark rug.

He walked forward slowly and unbuckled his belt with one hand.

“You look like you’re about to cry, little sister.” He stopped in front of me, towering, belt hanging open. “Did you miss me?”

I couldn’t speak. I could only stare up at him with wet eyes and trembling lips.

He reached down and cupped my chin hard. He forced me to hold his gaze.

“She's the one I went to after i left, and I fucked her, fucked her twice,” he said, voice cold. “I made her scream very loud. Want to know how many times she came?”

Tears spilled over. I shook my head.

He smiled, dark and cruel.

“Four. And I didn’t think of you once.”

Liar. I could see the bulge straining against his jeans, huge and obvious. He was already rock-hard.

He let go of my chin, unzipped, and pulled himself out. He was thick, flushed, a bead of pre-cum already pearling at the tip.

“Open.”

I did. Instantly.

He fed me his cock in one slow thrust. He didn’t stop until I gagged, nose pressed to his pelvis, throat stuffed full. My hands flew to his thighs for balance.

“That’s it,” he groaned, fingers tangling in my hair. “Choke on your stepbrother like the greedy little cunt that you are.”

He fucked my mouth hard and deep. His hips snapped and he used my throat like it existed only for his pleasure. Tears streamed down my cheeks, mascara running, spit dripping down my chin onto the rug.

Every thrust pushed me closer to the edge without even touching my pussy.

He pulled out suddenly, cock slick and shining, and hauled me up by my hair.

“Bend over the couch. Panties off. Now.”

I scrambled to obey. The hoodie pushed up to my waist, my bare ass in the air, pussy glistening and swollen.

He didn’t warn me.

He just dropped to his knees behind me, spread me wide with rough hands, and dragged his tongue from my clit to my entrance in one long, filthy lick.

I screamed into the cushions.

He ate me like he was starving. His tongue fucked deep, he sucked my clit until my legs buckled, his teeth grazed just hard enough to make me sob. Two fingers shoved inside me, curling, pumping, stretching me open while his mouth never stopped.

My body shook so hard I nearly came, but he didn’t let me.

He stood, lined himself up, and slammed on me.

No penetration, just grazing.

Just every inch of his bare cock grazing me while I'm open, wishing he'd fill me.

“Fuck, Jax.”

“This what you wanted?” he snarled, pulling out and slamming back in so hard the couch moved. “Your stepbrother’s cock raw on your greedy little cunt?”

“Yes, yes, God, please. Oh my God! Fuck me please.”

"In huh?" He smirked.

He grazing it on my pussy like he hated me. Like he loved me. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, his hips snapped, his slapped it on my clit.

He dipped his cock in my pussy, just a little, more like he intentionally put the tip only.

My pussy didn't mind.

It clenched around the little hardness so tight I groaned very loud.

I came, very hard, my fluid splashing on the couch and causing mess all over the place.

He pulled out immediately, spun me around, and shoved me to my knees.

“Open your mouth.”

I did.

He came with a guttural roar, painting my tongue, my lips, my face with hot, thick ropes that marked me as his.

I swallowed what I could. The rest dripped down my chin onto my bare tits.

He tucked himself away, calm as anything, and looked down at me. I was wrecked, shaking, covered in him.

“Good girl,” he said softly, thumb swiping a streak of cum across my bottom lip. “Now you've had my come like you always wanted.”

He turned to walk away.

That’s when we heard it.

The front door handle turning.

It didn't open. They probably forgot to take their keys.

Mom’s voice, bright and early: “Scarlett? Jax? We’re home!”

Panic exploded through me.

We were in the living room. The couch was soaked. I was on my knees, hoodie rucked up, face painted with cum, pussy still gaping and dripping.

Jax didn’t move. He didn’t flinch.

He just looked down at me with those cold, empty eyes, zipped his jeans, and said quietly.

“Better swallow fast, little sister.”

Then he went to open the door.