Alex lay sprawled on the kitchen floor, the cold tile biting into his back. Laura was on top of him—her body a warm, trembling weight that pinned him in place. Her breath ghosted over his lips, hot and uneven, carrying the faint sweetness of the mint gum she always chewed. Their eyes locked, hers wide and stormy, framed by lashes still damp from earlier tears. Her full breasts pressed against his chest, soft and yielding, melting into him like forbidden silk. Lower, her pelvis ground against his, the thin fabric of her shorts doing nothing to hide the heat radiating from her core. He could smell her—vanilla shampoo mixed with the musky hint of her skin, intoxicating and wrong.
His body betrayed him. Blood rushed south, his cock stirring against the seam of his jeans, thickening with every shallow breath she took. *She's your stepsister,* his mind screamed. But his hips twitched involuntarily, seeking more friction. Laura didn't move. She just stared, lips parted, as if the fall had short-circuited her usual arrogance.
Four months earlier, Alex's world had tilted on its axis. His dad, still grieving the loss of Alex's mom five years ago, had remarried Lina—a stunning widow with a sharp wit and a daughter who was pure trouble. Laura. Nineteen, a freshman at the same college as Alex, and already infamous for her bossy, ice-queen demeanor. When Alex's friends heard she was moving in, they didn't tease him. They pitied him.
"Dude, how are you gonna live with that?" his buddy Mike had groaned, shuddering. "Laura's a walking nightmare."
"Easy," Alex had shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ignore her. Pretend she's a ghost."
And he had. They lived on opposite ends of the second-floor hallway, doors slamming like silent declarations of war. She strutted around in tiny crop tops and leggings that hugged her curves, barking orders at anyone in her path. He buried himself in his junior-year classes, gym sessions, and late-night gaming. It worked—until summer break.
Their parents jetted off for a belated honeymoon in Europe, leaving the sprawling house to Alex and Laura. "Be nice to each other," Lina had cooed over video call, oblivious. Alex had rolled his eyes. Nice? With her?
That night, the house was too quiet. Alex lounged in his room, scrolling through memes on his phone, when a piercing scream shattered the silence. His heart lurched. *Laura?*
He bolted downstairs, bare feet slapping against the hardwood. The kitchen light flickered on as he burst in. Laura stood frozen by the counter, tears streaking her flushed cheeks, one manicured finger pointing shakily at the wall.
"What happened?" Alex demanded, scanning for danger.
She didn't speak—just pointed. A fat, hairy spider scurried across the backsplash. Alex stifled a laugh. This was the emergency?
"Hold on," he muttered, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and a napkin. Carefully, he trapped the intruder and released it out the window. Turning back, he found Laura still trembling, arms wrapped around herself. Her usual armor— that haughty glare—was gone. She looked... vulnerable. Human.
"It's gone," he said softly, stepping closer. "You okay?"
She nodded, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "Thank you," she whispered, voice small. Alex blinked. Thank you? From Laura?
Before he could process it, the lights died. Pitch black swallowed the room. Laura gasped, a terrified squeak that sent a weird thrill through him.
"Where's the lighter?" she panicked, voice pitching higher.
"Don't move," Alex ordered, reaching out blindly. "Stay put, I'll—"
A soft thud. Her body collided with his—warm, curvy, and suddenly everywhere. They toppled in a tangle of limbs, crashing to the floor. The lights hummed back to life just as Laura landed atop him.
And there they were. Her breath on his face. Her breasts heaving against his chest. Her hips flush against his growing hardness.
She didn't get up. Just stared, lips inches from his, eyes dark with something unspoken. Alex's pulse thundered. *Move, damn it.* But his hands itched to grip her waist, to pull her closer—
"Sister," he rasped, the word tasting like sin. "You alright?"
Reality snapped her back. Laura scrambled off him, cheeks flaming. She smoothed her tank top, reverting to bossy mode. "Why'd you move in the dark? This is your fault!"
Alex hauled himself up, sighing. *There's the bitch I know.* "You're the one who walked into me. Whatever. What were you doing down here anyway?"
She bit her lower lip—plump, glossy, and distracting as hell. "I... was gonna cook dinner. Then the spider..."
Alex frowned. "Lina left meals in the fridge. Just heat 'em up."
Confusion flickered across her face. She nibbled her finger, a nervous habit he'd never noticed. "She didn't tell me."
*She forgot her own daughter?* Alex shook his head. "Must've slipped her mind. I'll warm it."
Laura nodded meekly, trailing him to the microwave like a lost puppy.
They ate in tense silence at the island—lasagna, steaming and fragrant. Every clink of forks felt loaded. Alex stole glances: her tank top riding up, exposing a sliver of toned midriff; the way she licked sauce from her thumb, slow and unconscious. His cock twitched again. *Stop.*
An hour later, knuckles rapped on his door. Alex paused his scroll. *Laura? Now what?*
He opened it to find her hovering in the hallway, barefoot in tiny sleep shorts and that same tank, no bra evident. Shyness softened her edges. "Were you busy? I can go..."
"No, it's fine. Need something?"
She shifted, hugging a laptop to her chest. "My friend dared me to watch a horror movie alone tonight. But I'm... kinda scared. Can you sit with me? Just while I watch?"
Alex arched a brow. *Scared? Miss Bossy needs a babysitter?* But the vulnerability from earlier tugged at him. "Sure. I'll watch with you."
Her face lit up—a genuine smile that hit him like a gut punch. "Thanks, *stepbrother*," she teased, drawing out the word mockingly. "Come to my room."
He followed, grumbling internally. *Shouldn't even help this bitch.* But as she led the way, her ass swaying in those shorts, he couldn't look away.
Her room was a pink-tinged chaos of posters and fairy lights. They settled on her bed, side by side, thighs brushing. She propped the laptop on a pillow and hit play. The movie was cheesy—low-budget screams and fake blood. Alex barely flinched. Laura, though? She jumped at every shadow, clutching a pillow like a shield.
Minutes in, an idea sparked. Mischief curled his lips. She was engrossed, eyes wide. Slowly, he slipped his hand behind her... and yanked a fistful of her silky hair.
Laura shrieked, launching herself at him. "Something pulled my hair!"
Chaos. She landed sprawled across his lap, one hand slamming down on his crotch—fingers grazing the rigid bulge in his sweats. Her tank had shifted in the frenzy; one perfect breast spilled free, nipple hard and pink, pressing flush against his chest. Heat seared through his shirt. Her scent enveloped him. His cock throbbed under her palm, betraying every taboo thought.