Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Rose’s POV

I walked like I was zombified, even ignoring my mum’s calls after me.

I shut the door behind me and stood motionless in my room.

Slowly, I lifted my fingers to my lips.

"Did that just... Did that just happen?"

Dragging my feet, I walked to the full-length mirror and tilted my neck slightly to the side.

It was littered with hickeys.

I reached out as though touching them would somehow make them disappear.

They didn’t. The marks were real and obvious.

Proof that tonight hadn’t been some ridiculous dream.

I yanked a scarf from the dresser and wrapped it around my neck as I stared at my reflection.

"How am I supposed to hide these at breakfast? From my mum?"

Every possible situation flashed through my mind at once.

I groaned and buried my face in my hands.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!!!"

"We... no, he kissed me."

"Oh my God, what do I do?" I panicked as I paced around my room.

My eyes drifted to the open window.

"No, that’s stupid. If anyone needs to jump out the window, it’s him."

I took a slow breath before sliding down to the floor, ruffling my hair in frustration.

"I don’t know what to feel," I whispered, placing a hand against my chest.

Every emotion seemed to be fighting for space inside my head. I wanted to scream at him, cry, and pretend none of it had happened.

Instead, I just sat there, unable to decide whether I hated him or hated myself for not pushing him away sooner.

"It all happened so fast. I... fuck, what do I do? What happens now?"

"How do I face him? How would my mother react if she found out? I finally—slowly—accepted her relationship. She gets to be happy again, and I ruin it by roughhousing with her fiancé’s son?"

"Fuck," I cursed, curling into a ball as tears slid down my cheeks.

"She must not find out," I muttered, biting my fingernails.

"If Mum saw these marks, she’d ask questions. Questions I couldn’t answer. I don’t know what’s worse—telling her Reagan caused them or letting her assume I hooked up with some random guy on my first night at the club. Whatever tonight was... it has to stay between Reagan and me."

"She can’t find out. No one can."

Wiping away my tears, I sat upright, my emotions quickly shifting from hurt to anger.

"I can’t believe this shit. Why do I have to stay here crying while he’s probably smirking at every household item? Do I report him or something? I mean, the way he just grabbed me like some..."

I paused as heat rushed to my cheeks.

I tapped my cheeks and pushed myself off the floor.

Maybe a shower would help.

Maybe if I scrubbed hard enough, I’d stop feeling his hands on me.

I made it two steps toward the bathroom before stopping.

My reflection caught my eye again.

The hickeys.

I looked away immediately.

Looking away didn’t help. Even with my back turned, I could still remember exactly how each one had gotten there.

"This is not the time to be reminiscing!"

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Don’t think about it.

Think about literally anything else.

The weather.

School.

Food.

Anything.

Instead...

His face.

His voice.

The way he’d looked at me.

Every time I pushed the memory away, it came back clearer than before.

"Damn it..."

"But it kind of felt good."

"No."

I shook my head, trying to force the thought away.

"No, it didn’t."

I muttered it again, hoping I’d believe it the second time.

It did little to help, and that was the worst part.

I wanted to hate him.

Instead, I was stuck trying to understand why a part of me kept remembering the kiss.

"Wait, what? This is Reagan I’m talking about. My annoying soon-to-be stepbrother."

"He moved so expertly, like he’d done it plenty of times."

Had he kissed other girls like that?

The thought came out of nowhere.

Just as quickly, it made something unpleasant twist in my stomach.

I frowned.

Why did I even care?

I shouldn’t care.

So why did imagining him kissing someone else bother me so much?

"Bloody hoe, kissing anyone at random."

"I ought to bite his finger again," I huffed.

That seemed to be the trigger that allowed all the night’s happenings to flood back in.

The way he kissed me, roughly tugged at my hair, caged me between his body and the wall, made me feel things... sensations I hadn’t felt before. It made me want more, more of the unknown.

I found myself trying to mimic his movements on my body, trying to make myself feel the way he made me feel.

I wanted more.

"I can’t do anything with this tight dress on."

My hands slowly crept to my shoulders, slipping out of the dress.

I made my way down as my fingers worked without rhythm on my folds, yet I barely felt anything.

"How do people swear they enjoy this? Ugh."

I was about to give up when I remembered Sierra’s dumb advice on touching oneself. She said to go up and massage slowly, and—

"Mmn."

It’s beginning to feel good.

I hastily removed my lace underwear and continued.

I wish Reagan was here to grab my neck like he did, suck the spots on my neck that made me quiver, run his fingers down my spine as he sucked each breath out of me.

"Oh, fuck!"

I wanted to know how his rough palm would feel in place of my fingers. Would it hurt? Would it feel even better? Fuck, I want—

"Oh God!"

I wanted his finger in my mouth again.

Fuck, all of it.

"Nngh, Reagan!!" I cried out, my back arching off the bed, my legs threatening to shut themselves as my hands tightly gripped the sheets.

My body still making little spasms as I slowly came down from my high, I brought my fingers up to see them covered with my release.

Seeming to come back to my senses, the nightmare of who I’d just pleasured myself to came crashing down on me like an anvil.

"Oh God... I’m screwed."

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