The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Cabin Fever

Chapter 15: Cabin Fever

This Chapter contains sexual content. Not for readers younger than 18. 🔞

My phone buzzed at 11:47 p.m.

I was supposed to be studying. Instead I was staring at the blue dress on my closet door, the silk still smelling like his cologne.

His text on my phone.

Lucian: What if he’d opened that stall door two seconds earlier?

I smiled.

Eliora: Then you’d be explaining to your father why your stepsister was in the bathroom with you.

Lucian: I’d have told him I was with the woman I’m falling for. So what? I’m done sneaking around. We’ll figure it out.

The words glowed on my screen, burning through Priya’s warnings, through common sense, through every barrier I’d spent weeks building.

Lucian: I had plans for us at that gala. Dinner. Dancing. Let me make it up to you.

Eliora: You’re asking me out?

Lucian: I’m begging. Say yes.

I stared at the ceiling. I should say no.

I typed back anyway.

Eliora: Yes. But I can’t be seen. Anywhere someone might know us.

Lucian: Then I’ll drive until nobody knows our names.

⸻

He picked me up at dawn in an old Jeep. Lucian wore a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"Get in," he said. "I’m kidnapping you for the weekend."

We drove with the windows down. His hand rested on my thigh. When we parked, the beach was empty. The cabin sat on the dunes behind us.

Lucian pulled me toward the water.

"Race you," he said.

He was already running.

I kicked off my sandals and chased him, sand flying between my toes, my laugh tearing out of my throat, raw and unfamiliar.

He let me catch him at the water’s edge, spinning me until the ocean spray misted our faces and my hair whipped across my mouth.

He kissed me there, salt on his lips, the sun warm on our skin, and we were not step-siblings. We were not secrets. We were just two people let off their leashes, chasing each other through the surf, collapsing breathless into the wet sand.

⸻

We went inside the cabin. It was cold.

Inside, the cabin smelled of cedar and salt and old smoke.

Lucian lit the fireplace with a single match, the flame flaring orange against his face.

I stood by the window, dripping seawater onto the floorboards, watching him.

I tripped on the edge of the rug. Lucian caught me before I fell and held me hard against his chest.

"Careful," he said.

I stayed pressed against him. He didn’t let go.

"You’re cold," he said. "I’ll make tea."

He walked to the small kitchen. I followed and wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing my body tight to his back.

His hands covered mine. Then he turned and pulled me into him from behind, chest hard against my back, arms locked around my waist.

I ground my soft buttocks against him. I felt him get hard. I kept grinding, pressing back harder.

Lucian’s breath caught. He turned me around fast. Our mouths met. Our tongues pushed together, wet and deep.

He dropped to his knees. He pulled the rest of my clothes off while his mouth stayed on me, first my lips, then my nipples, sucking hard, then down my stomach until his mouth was between my legs. His tongue pushed into my pussy.

I moaned loud and gripped the counter. My legs shook. He held my hips tight and kept licking and sucking until I was moaning louder, almost crying out.

He looked up, mouth still on me.

"Should I stop?" he asked. "Do you want this?"

"I want this," I said, voice shaking. "I want you. Penetrate me. Please. Please, Lucian." Deep inside of me I knew I have always wanted this.

He stood, lifted me hard into his arms, and carried me to the bed. He laid me down and pushed inside me. I moaned and grabbed the sheets. My legs locked around his waist as he started thrusting deep.

Once I pulled him closer and pushed my hips up to meet him, he fucked me harder. The bed slammed against the wall. I kept moaning loud. His hand gripped my hip tight as he thrust into me deep and fast.

He turned me over onto my hands and knees. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back as he shoved back inside me from behind. The angle made me cry out.

He fucked me hard like that, one hand locked on my hip and the other pulling my hair, driving into me until my arms were shaking and I was moaning into the sheets.

When he came, he stayed buried deep, breathing hard against my back. Then he turned me over. He kissed my face and licked the tears at the corners of my eyes.

"I’ve got you," he whispered.

He carried me to the bathroom. The water was warm. He washed me, hands moving over my body carefully. I leaned into him under the spray and let him take care of me.

We went back to the bed after. The sheets were cool. We lay facing each other, legs tangled, his hand on my waist. He kissed me again, softer. I watched his face in the low light.

We didn’t talk for a while.

We didn’t need to.

⸻

Later, we lay tangled in the sheets of the bedroom, my leg thrown over his hip, his hand drawing lazy circles on my lower back. The ocean crashed below, rhythmic and eternal.

My phone buzzed.

Not one phone. Two.

Lucian’s cell skittered against the nightstand. Mine lit up, screen glowing blue in the darkness.

He reached for his. I reached for mine.

My mother’s name stared back at me.

Eliora, where are you? James called here looking for Lucian. He seemed upset. I think something’s wrong at the office, but he wouldn’t tell me what. Do you know where Lucian is?

I looked up.

Lucian was staring at his screen, the muscle in his jaw jumping, his face carved from stone in the phone’s glow. But when he saw me watching, something shifted, relief, swift and unmistakable.

"What is it?" I whispered.

He set his phone down carefully. "My father. He needs me at the office. Pending work."

"Is that all?"

"That’s all." He pulled me back against his chest, his heartbeat hammering against my shoulder blade. "Nothing that can’t wait until Monday."

I twisted to face him. "Lucian, if there’s a problem, if your father needs you."

"He doesn’t need me." His voice was soft but firm. "He needs a signature on a contract. I want to be here. With you."

Guilt pooled in my stomach, thick and cold. "I feel like I’m stealing you. Like we should go back."

"No." He tilted my chin up, his eyes fierce in the dark. "We came here to be free. Just for two days. Don’t let him steal that too."

He kissed me then, slow and certain, until the guilt began to melt, until the only thing I could feel was his mouth and his hands and the promise that, for now at least, the world outside could wait.

The embers in the fireplace pulsed. The ocean roared below.

And for one more night, the sanctuary held.

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