Ravaged By Her Cold-Hearted Stepbrothers

The Queens Gambit

Rhea

My attraction to these boys was a problem. One that I didn’t entirely know what to do with. I’d never wanted anyone like I wanted them. No one had ever made me feel these kinds of things before, and it was difficult and startling all at once.

I stepped out of my dress, the fabric falling to the floor like a discarded skin. I walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on, letting the water run hot—scalding hot. I stood under the spray, eyes closed, allowing the steam to fill my lungs and the water to wash over me.

My p***y was throbbing aggressively, and I was still aching to be filled up. The sensation of the twins' assault under the dining table lingered like a brand on my skin.

Guilt washed over me in waves, heavier than the water. How could I let them do that? How could I sit there between my mother and my stepfather while their fingers ruined me?

This was wrong in every way possible. If we were caught, my mother’s heart would shatter. She was so proud of this new life, so desperate for me to be "family" to these boys. This was forbidden. It was a sin. But as the hot water hit my sensitized skin, I couldn't deny the truth: it felt too good to resist.

I’d had a crush on Brandon and Jackson since prep school. When we all got into the same university department, I thought I could finally move on, but seeing them every day only made it worse.

I had always been a shadow at the back of their lecture halls, just a name on a high-scoring paper they never cared to look twice at. I wasn't invisible because I was weak—I chose to stay quiet. I was never a pushover. Whenever the popular kids tried to bully me or my best friend, Elora, I stood my ground every single time.

To them, I was just a passing face. Someone easy to forget. But now, living in this house, breathing the same air, that old crush had returned like a fever I couldn’t break. Finding out they were my stepbrothers should have killed the fire. It should have turned my stomach. Instead, the fire only grew.

I dried off, my skin flushed pink from the heat. I didn't put the hoodie back on. Instead, I chose a simple, soft jersey dress that hugged my curves just enough.

I grabbed my laptop, needing to focus on my departmental assignments.

I headed toward the private lounge, a quiet area of the mansion filled with leather books and velvet chairs. But when I walked in, I realized I wasn’t alone.

Jackson and Brandon were hunched over a low marble table, a chess set between them. They looked like two beautiful beasts resting between hunts.

"Look who decided to join the living," Brandon said, his voice smooth as silk. He didn't look up from the board.

"I'm just here to work," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. I moved toward a corner chair, but Jackson leaned back, tapping a finger against the arm of his seat.

"Chess is a better workout for the brain than whatever's on that laptop, Kitty Cat," Jackson teased. "Come here. Brandon is boring me. He plays like an old man."

"I'm busy," I resisted, clutching my laptop to my chest.

"Are you busy, or are you scared?" Brandon asked, finally looking up. His eyes were dark, challenging. "We’ve seen your grades. You’re at the top of the class. Surely a little game of strategy shouldn't frighten a genius like you."

They were being persuasive, their voices low and humming in the quiet room. I felt that familiar pull, that dangerous wish to be near them.

"Fine," I said, walking over and setting my laptop down. "But don't feel bad when I beat you. I’ve been playing since I was six."

Jackson let out a sharp, barking laugh. "She’s got a big mouth for a girl who usually hides in the library."

"I’m serious," I warned, taking the seat Brandon vacated. "I’ll ruin you."

"A girl with confidence," Brandon whispered, leaning against the mahogany bookshelf behind me. "I like that. But a game is no fun without a stake, right, Jax?"

“A stake?” I asked, staring between them. My pulse was hammering, but for the first time, it wasn't just fear. It was a need to prove I wasn't the fragile, naive girl they thought I was.

Jackson’s eyes gleamed with mischief. He leaned forward, his face inches from mine. "Right. A bet. If you win, Cat, we'll do your chores for a week. No dishes, no laundry, no nothing. We'll be your personal servants."

"And if I lose?" I asked, my heart racing.

Jackson’s gaze dropped to my lips. The air in the room suddenly felt very thin. "If you lose... You suck both of us off. Right here. On this table."

My breath hitched. My first instinct was to get up and run. It was a trap. But I looked at the board. Brandon had been playing a weak opening. I knew chess. I knew I was better than them. I wanted to see them humiliate themselves by doing my laundry. I wanted to win back some of the power they have over me.

I was tired of being the "good girl," the smart nerd who followed the rules while they broke them. If they wanted a game, I’d give them one they wouldn’t forget. I wanted to see the look on their faces when I stripped them of their arrogance along with their clothes.

"Deal," I said firmly. "Prepare to lose... but to make it even more fun, I have a suggestion. In addition to the bet... strip chess. Every major piece lost is an item of clothing."