“Fuck,” I choke out, torn between embarrassment and arousal. “Alex, please—”
“Tell me what you want.”
I meet his gaze in the mirror, any remaining shyness burned away by the need coursing through my veins. “Another finger. I want another one.”
He gives me a wicked smile. “Say it properly.”
I know what he wants. The wrongness of it makes my skin prickle with heat. “I want my stepbrother to fuck me with three fingers.”
Alex rewards me with a third slick digit pressing against my entrance alongside the other two. The stretch is intense now, bordering on painful. I bite my lip, bracing myself against the mattress as he works the third finger in.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his free hand stroking my back. “Open up for me.”
I try to relax, to breathe through the burn. Slowly, so slowly, his three fingers sink deeper, stretching me wider than I’ve ever been stretched before. The pain mixes with pleasure in a way that makes my head spin.
“Look at yourself,” Alex says, his voice commanding myattention back to the mirror. “No one else gets to see you like this—broken open and begging for it.”
I barely recognize myself in the reflection—face flushed, eyes glazed with pleasure, lips parted on panting breaths. I look wrecked. Desperate. I look like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Alex twists his fingers again, pressing deeper, and suddenly white-hot pleasure explodes through me. I cry out, unable to contain the sound as he finds my prostate and rubs directly against it.
“There it is. Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my arms giving out beneath me. My chest hits the mattress, ass still raised in the air, presented to him like an offering. “Fuck, that feels so good.”
Alex keeps working that spot, his three fingers pumping in and out while applying pressure to my prostate on every inward stroke. The pleasure is almost unbearable, building and building until I’m trembling.
“Alex,” I moan, my hands fisting in the sheets. “I’m ready. Please. I need you inside me.”
He withdraws his fingers slowly, leaving me empty and aching. I watch in the mirror as he hastily undoes his jeans, shoving them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and flushed dark. I swallow hard at the sight of it, anticipation and nervousness churning in my gut.
Alex tears open the condom wrapper with his teeth, rolling the latex down his length. He adds more lube, slicking himself thoroughly. The wet sounds fill the quiet room, mingling with our heavy breathing.
“Ever since I saw you at the club,” he says, positioning himself behind me, the blunt head of his cock pressing againstmy entrance. “I’ve thought about bending you over and making you mine.”
He pushes forward slightly, the pressure increasing but not yet breaching me. I tense, my body resisting the intrusion despite my desperate want.
“You were never meant to dance for anyone but me,” Alex continues, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Never meant to be touched by anyone but me.”
I press back against him, silently urging him to continue. The head of his cock begins to breach me, the stretch far more intense than his fingers despite the careful preparation.
“Say it,” Alex demands, halting his movement. “Say you were always supposed to be mine.”
The words rise to my lips without conscious thought, pulled from some deep, honest place inside me that’s been waiting years to speak this truth. “I was always yours,” I gasp, tears springing to my eyes from the emotion as much as the physical sensation. “Always meant to be yours, Alex. Only yours.”
He pushes forward with a groan, the head of his cock finally slipping past the tight ring of muscle. The burn is intense, but beneath it is a fullness, a rightness that I’ve never felt before. Tears stream down my face, but they’re tears of ecstasy, of the most profound arousal I’ve ever experienced.
“That’s it,” Alex murmurs, his hands gripping my hips as he slowly, carefully pushes deeper. “Take me. All of me.”
Inch by excruciating inch, he works his way inside me until he’s fully seated, his hips flush against my ass. I feel impossibly full, stretched to my limit, impaled on his cock in a way that makes me feel claimed. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve ever been with another person, and yet I’ve never felt safer.
“You okay?” Alex asks, his voice strained with the effort ofholding still.
I nod, unable to form words. The initial pain is fading, replaced by a strange, insistent pleasure that grows with every small shift of his hips. I push back against him experimentally, and we both groan at the sensation.
“I’m going to move now,” he warns, withdrawing before pushing back in. The drag of his cock against my inner walls sends sparks dancing up my spine.
Alex starts a slow, careful rhythm, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder than the last. His eyes find mine in the mirror again, holding my gaze as he fucks into me. The intimacy of it—seeing his face as he takes me, letting him see every expression that crosses mine—is almost too much to bear.
