CLAIMED BY MY ALPHA STEPBROTHER AND STEPFATHER: MC EROTICA

CHAPTER 13 - MINE

He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder and the angle opens me up to him and he uses it, his tongue pushing inside me and curling forward against that spot that makes my whole body clench before sliding back up to my c**t in long strokes that my hips chase without permission.

His hands grip my thighs hard enough that I can feel individual fingers pressing bruises into my skin, and he’s holding me in place because my legs have stopped being structurally relevant and I’m gripping his hair with both hands and the sounds coming out of me are loud enough that I should care about my mom hearing them from down the hall but I don’t care because Knox’s tongue is flicking against my c**t now in rapid strokes that send sparks up my spine on every pass.

He seals his mouth around my c**t and sucks while his tongue works the underside of it in tight circles, and the suction combined with the friction of his tongue tips me over so fast I don’t have time to brace for it.

I c*m with my leg locking around his head and my back arching and my fingers twisted so tightly in his hair that I must be hurting him, and I feel it pulse through me in waves that make his name spill out of my mouth like I’m praying to something I don’t believe in.

He doesn’t stop. His mouth stays sealed against me and his tongue slows to long, flat drags that run the full length of my p***y, gathering the wetness and spreading it upward to my c**t and back down again in a lazy, thorough rhythm that winds me up again before I’ve even finished coming down from the first one.

The overstimulation makes my thighs shake and I try to pull back but his hands tighten on my hips and hold me against his mouth and his tongue pushes inside me again and curls forward while his nose presses against my c**t and the angle makes me see white.

He f***s me with his tongue in slow, devastating strokes while the heel of his nose grinds against my c**t with every push, and I can hear how wet I am because the sound of his mouth working against me is obscene in the quiet room, and my second orgasm builds from a deeper place lower in my belly.

His tongue speeds up and his grip on my hips tightens until I can feel his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of my as and pulling me harder against his face, and when I c*m the second time it’s slower and longer and my legs give out completely and the only reason I don’t end up on the floor is because his hands are holding me up while his mouth works me through every last aftershock until I’m shaking so badly that my teeth are chattering.

He pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks up at me with his chin wet and his eyes dark and steady, and something in his expression has shifted from territorial to confirmed.

“You smell like his cologne.”

I freeze.

My blood goes cold because I know whose cologne he means and I don’t know how he can possibly smell it on me, but his jaw is tight and his grip on my thighs hasn’t loosened and the accusation in his voice isn’t a question.

“Knox–”

“Don’t.”

He stands from the bed and his height over me feels different now.

“I don’t care whose class you’re in,” he says, and his hands flip me over so fast that my palms hit the mattress before I register that I’ve moved and my skirt is still bunched around my waist and my underwear is still shoved to the side and I can feel the cool air against how wet I am and then his body covers mine from behind.

He’s fully clothed against my bare skin and the fabric of his jeans is rough against the backs of my thighs and his mouth is right at my ear and his hand is already sliding between my legs from behind, his fingers dragging through the mess his mouth just made of me.

“This body is mine.”

He pushes two fingers into me from behind and I gasp into the mattress because the angle is deeper than his mouth reached, and he curls them forward against that spot while his other hand fists in my hair and pulls my head back far enough that the stretch in my neck borders on pain.

He pumps his fingers hard and fast with none of the teasing patience of the voice-command night, and each thrust pushes a sound out of me that I couldn’t contain even if I tried because he’s hitting that spot with every stroke and the wet sound of his fingers working me open fills the room.

He adds a third finger and the stretch makes me cry out and he pulls my hair harder and his mouth is against the shell of my ear and he says, “Say my name,” and I say it, I say it immediately because my body stopped pretending to resist him days ago, and he says, “Again,” and I say it again, louder this time, loud enough that Dominic could hear it through the walls and the hallway and the door, and I understand now that the volume is the point – Knox is making sure his father knows exactly what’s happening in this room and exactly who is making it happen.

A sound comes out of his chest that isn’t human – that same low vibrating growl from through the wall, except now it’s pressed against my spine and I can feel it in my ribcage like a second set of lungs expanding, and his body temperature spikes so high that his skin through his t-shirt feels like pressing against a radiator, and his grip on my hair feels stronger than any human hand should be, like his fingers have hardened into something denser than bone.

I should ask what that sound is. I should ask why his body runs ten degrees hotter than everyone else I’ve ever touched. I should ask about the golden eyes and the growl through the wall and the way he can smell things on me that no human nose should be able to detect.

I don’t ask any of it.

He curls his fingers one more time and I c*m for the third time tonight with my face in the mattress and his name between my teeth and his growl vibrating through my spine, and I push back against his hand and close my eyes and let the sound of him pulse through me like a second heartbeat.