The house was dead quiet except for our breathing. Heavy. Wet. Echoing off the walls like we were the only two people left on earth.
Ethan’s c**k was still half-hard inside me, softening slowly but not pulling out. He liked staying plugged in—liked feeling his c*m trapped where it belonged. I liked it too. The filthy fullness. The reminder that I’d made my stepbrother lose control twice already.
But I wasn’t done.
I shifted under him, clenching deliberately around his length. He hissed, hips twitching forward on instinct.
“Again?” His voice was wrecked—gravel and smoke.
“Not here.” I pushed at his chest until he rolled off me. His c**k slipped free with a wet sound, followed by a thick trickle of c*m down my thigh. I didn’t wipe it. Let it drip. Let him see what he’d done.
I stood on
