Claimed By My Alpha Stepbrother.

10

SERAPHINA

"Oh, yes. Yes. Oh, my god, Azriel!" I screamed wrapping my legs around him tighter as he thrust into me.

"Yes, Little one." He rasped slamming into me. "Spread that p***y and take every part of me"

"f**k," I gasped, my back arching off the bed as he slid his fingers between us stroking my c**t.

"Look at me," he growled, and I forced my eyes open, staring down at the shadow between my thighs where my c*m coated his d**k. "Watch me take what's mine."

"You're mine, you know that right?" He asked.

"I'm not... What the hell!" I shrieked when he spanked me, my p***y tightening around his c**k in response. I clung to his shoulders, my thighs trembling around his waists. "I'm coming. Azriel..."

"Say you're mine" he cut in, slowing down his thrusts and teasing me with his c**k, keeping me in the edge of my release.

My breath came out in ragged bursts, my voice pleading. "Azriel please..." Another slow teasing thrust that almost made me lose my mind. "Just say you're mine, little one, and I'll give you exactly what you want."

I held onto him tighter, trying to move my hips, I need to c*m. "Azriel..."

"Wrong word, baby"

Out of desperation for a release, "I'm yours!" I screamed, shutting my eyes as he slammed into me in one deep thrust, my p***y throbbing as my orgasm crashed through me with devastating force. "Azriel!" My voice broke, my body still shaking from the aftermath while he f****d me through my orgasm chasing his own release.

"That's it," he murmured against my oversensitive skin. "Come for me, little one." And I did.

When he collapsed on top of me, his c**k pressing on my stomach, both of us trying to catch our breath, I looked up at his face, he's hot. Giving my first time to a hot potato like this wasn't that...

"Seraphina!"

My eyes flew open.

"Seraphina! Breakfast!"

I jolted up immediately, my heart slamming against my chest. I looked down at my body drenched in sweat and the sticky wetness between my legs.

God. Not again, damn it.

It was pathetic enough being ditched after a hot one night stand, but having wet dreams about him every night? Now, that was real pathetic. I threw off the covers and sat up, dragging my legs to the bathroom to clean up. No way I'm going down for breakfast with my p***y wet and throbbing.

The hot water burned my skin and I scrubbed at it hoping to wash away the memory of his touch. It's been two years for crying out loud, but my body didn't seem to understand we've been used and dumped. No notes, no message, no explanation.

I had even been foolish enough to search for him. I pretended to be sick after waking up with no sign of him, just to postpone us leaving. For nearly a week, I snuck out and drove by his house, sometimes waiting outside, hoping for an explanation. It took me some time to finally come to the realization, "oh, Seraphina, you've been ditched." Once it became so clear, I knew I had to let go so my mom could have her dream wedding. We left for Seattle and never returned.

Still, my body still craved his touch, his rough thrust, his hot tongue on my p***y. I tried to forget him. God, I tried. I even tried meeting other guys.

A boy in my freshman year from literature class. A sweet, eager soul who had taken me to coffee and talked about poetry, and I'd let him kiss me in his dorm room, hoping his gentle hands could erase the memory of Azriel's brutal ones. They couldn't, and I had to apologize to the poor boy with a b***r.

Then there was the grad student from last semester. Confident and experienced. Exactly my type. I had high hopes when he went down on me, his tongue flicking in exactly the right pattern and his fingers curling at just the right angle. I'd faked the orgasm.

"Seraphina" Mom screamed from downstairs again.

"I'm coming" I yelled in reply, throwing on something suitable—baggy faded jeans and a loose t-shirt so I won't have to bother with a bra—and looking at myself in the mirror.

I was a carbon copy of my mother. Same dark hair. Same stature. Same pale, soft and clear skin that I was especially proud of. The only difference was my eyes. They were gray, different from my mother's dark ones. Probably the only thing I got from my nonexistent father.

"Sera..."

"I'm already here mom" I cut in before she could shake the whole house again.

She turned around, spatula in hand, a warm smile spread across her face. At forty-two, Celeste Zephyrion was still beautiful in a way that turned heads—sharp cheekbones, full lips, eyes that crinkled when she laughed. I know she's happy. There was a softness to her now, a feeling of fullness and contentment that radiated off her.

"Did you sleep okay?" she asked, sliding a plate of pancakes toward me. "You look flushed."

"Fine," I lied, drowning the pancakes in syrup. "Just warm in my room."

She looked at me for a moment before nodding. I could tell she wasn't entirely convinced, but I appreciated that she never pushed me. That was likely why I always felt so at ease with her. Without a best friend, she was the only person I could share nearly everything with. She understood that I would always reach out to her when I needed support.

"Your stepfather wants us to have dinner together tonight," she said, settling across from me with her own coffee. "He's been traveling so much lately. I want to take advantage while he's home."

I nodded, adding more syrup to my pancake. Alistair Zephyrion. Charming, generous, and impossibly wealthy. He was the kind of man that lived in a world totally different from ours. It still felt like a movie. He met mom at a casino lounge working double shifts, and fell in love with her. A typical, rich man, struggling single mom plot. Except, it was my mom's reality. He's a good man actually, and I won't lie, mom hit the jackpot. That guy is obsessed.

"Do you know where he's been?" I asked.

Mom shook her head. "Just business. I didn't ask further. Not that I understand anything about his complicated work matters either way."

I raised a teasing eyebrow. "And you aren't scared he's sneaking around with another woman? I mean he's always traveling"

Smack.

"What!" I shrieked, rubbing the side of my head where her palm landed.

"Stop thinking nonsense and get going. You'll be late"

I rolled my eyes, stuffing the rest of the pancake into my mouth as I scurried out of the house, my bag slung over my shoulder.

“Don’t forget dinner!” I heard Mom yell after me, but I was already driving out of the driveway.

***

The day passed in a comfortable routine. Class. Lunch. Library. Home.

Alistair came home early, brushing a soft intimate kiss against mom's cheek and smiling warmly at me. "Seraphina. You look lovely. How was school?"

"Fine." I replied and he nodded in acknowledgement. We rarely spoke much.

Dinner was a feast. It was obvious mom put her all into it. Roasted chicken, asparagus, and wine. Alistair asked about my plans for the fall semester, mom's charity event, and he listened patiently as mom went on about her elaborate plans.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I have something I would like to discuss" he started, setting down his wine.

I looked up at him. His tone was serious. Stiff, actually.

"My son will be coming home soon."

Mom's face lit up. "Your son?"

He nodded. His movement tense. Although mom didn't seem to notice. "Oh, my!" She exclaimed. "Alistair, that's wonderful! We've never met him. Seraphina, didn't I tell you Alistair had a son?"

She had, actually. But what she'd also mentioned was that he was mostly away and I might never have to meet him if I wasn't comfortable.

"He can be a bit..." Alistair continued, choosing his words with unusual care. "Unstable. He's seen things. Done things. His work takes a toll on people."

"So..." He turned to me. "I'm hoping you'll get along with him, Seraphina. He's not used to family. Not used to... softness. It would mean a great deal to me if you could be patient with him. Help him adjust to being home."

I smiled, nodding. "Of course."