Pound Me Harder, Billionaire Stepbrother

==Maddox== The room was dark except for the glow of my laptop screen. I lay naked on the massive bed, sheets kicked down to my ankles. My hand moved slowly up and down my thick c**k, already leaking at the tip. On the screen, Layla Hart sang in a smoky little dive bar. Her voice was raw and beautiful. It hit me somewhere deep every single time. I had found her videos eighteen months ago by accident. One late night, drunk and lonely after a brutal board meeting. I clicked on a random music channel and there she was. Twenty-one years old. Simple black dress. No makeup. Just her voice and a cheap microphone. Since that night I had watched every video she posted. Over and over. Tonight my strokes grew faster. I imagined her moving into this mansion tomorrow after the wedding. My new little stepsister. Living under the same roof. Sleeping just down the hall. In my mind I saw myself cornering her the second the door closed behind her. I would push her against the wall. Rip that innocent dress off her body. Watch her eyes go wide when she felt how hard I was. She would be a virgin. I was almost sure of it. The way she sang, shy and pure, told me no one had ever touched her the way I wanted to. I pictured sliding my c**k through her slick folds for the first time. Hearing her gasp when I pushed inside that tight virgin p***y. She would cry out, nails digging into my shoulders. “f**k me harder, brother,” she would beg in my fantasy. Voice breaking with every thrust. I would s***k her ass until it turned red. Wrap my hand gently around her throat. Pound into her deep and raw while she moaned my name. I would fill her up. Breed her. Mark her so completely that she would never want anyone else. My hand moved faster. My hips bucked off the bed. “Layla…” I groaned her name out loud. Cum shot across my stomach in thick ropes. Pulse after pulse. I kept stroking through it, imagining it was her tight cunt milking me dry. When it finally ended I lay there panting. Chest heaving. The laptop screen still showed her singing. I whispered into the dark room. “Tomorrow you walk into this house. And nothing will ever be the same.” *** The wedding the next day felt like torture. I stood beside my father in the lavish hall, watching him slip the ring onto her mother’s finger. It was all business. A merger to save both our companies from sinking. Love had nothing to do with it. My eyes kept finding Layla. She sat in the front row wearing a simple pale blue dress. No designer label. Just her. She looked small and overwhelmed among all the rich guests and flashing cameras. Her fingers twisted in her lap. She bit her lip every few seconds. She was even more beautiful in person. After the ceremony the reception spilled into the mansion gardens. I moved through the crowd like a ghost. People congratulated my father. I barely heard them. Then I saw her standing alone near the fountain. Our eyes met across the crowd. Time stopped. She stared at me. I stared back. Something electric passed between us. Her cheeks flushed pink. She looked away first, but not before I saw the confusion and spark in her eyes. I wanted to walk over. Grab her hand. Pull her somewhere private. Instead I stayed where I was. The tension felt alive. Heavy. Dangerous. Hours later the guests finally left. The mansion grew quiet. Layla was shown to her new room in the east wing. I made sure the staff knew I would handle anything she needed. I waited until the house settled. Midnight came and went. I stood outside her bedroom door in the dark hallway. My hand rested on the cold brass knob. Inside I could hear soft crying. Quiet sobs. She was terrified of this new life. The money. The pressure. The stranger she now had to call stepbrother. My c**k twitched again just hearing those broken sounds. I wanted to push the door open. Walk in. Pull her into my arms and tell her everything would be okay. Then f**k her until she forgot every fear. I tightened my grip on the knob. My forehead pressed against the wood. Every instinct screamed at me to go inside. To make the fantasy real tonight. But I held back. Barely. Her soft cries continued on the othe r side of the door. I stood there in the darkness, fighting the strongest urge of my life.