I thought the first time with Kai would be enough to scratch the itch.
It wasn’t.
It made everything worse.
Now every time my stepbrother leaves the house, my mind goes straight to Kai — to the way he pinned me down, the way his hand felt around my throat, the way he f****d me like he’d been starving for me for years. I’ve touched myself every night since, three fingers deep, biting my pillow so I don’t moan his name too loud. I imagine him sneaking in while my stepbrother is sleeping down the hall, covering my mouth, and ruining me right there in my own bed.
I know it’s dangerous. I know we could get caught.
I know it’s wrong.
But the second I heard Kai’s text tonight — “Your brother is asleep. Leave the back door unlocked” — my p***y clenched so hard I had to press my thighs toge
