Riley's pov

I was on all fours.

He reached forward, tangling his fingers in my hair and yanking gently, forcing me to arch as he pounded me from behind, deeper and deeper. Each powerful thrust from his 8-inch, thick, veiny cock sent electric shockwaves through my body, hitting every nerve ending like it had been made just to ruin me.

"Yes. Fuck me harder. Please, don’t stop," I begged, voice shaking, half-lost in the growing heat blooming in my core. And like he’d heard the hunger in my tone, he picked up the pace, drilling into me with brutal precision.

His hands slid down from my waist, one arm anchoring me steady while the other slipped between my thighs. His fingers found my clit like he had a map to my body, circling it tight and fast, unrelenting.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna—"

Suddenly, he stopped.

My words caught in my throat, strangled by the abrupt emptiness. My walls clenched around nothing, a loud whimper escaping my lips. But before I could even ask why, he flipped me over like I weighed nothing and pinned me to the mattress.

Now on my back, our eyes met for the briefest second, a flash of heat in his gaze before he dove between my thighs like a man starved.

My legs trembled, spreading instinctively to welcome him. His tongue found my clit immediately, licking in tight, devastating circles, pulling gasps straight from my lungs. My hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his hair as I ground myself into his mouth, chasing every second of the rhythm he gave me.

His tongue moved like a goddamn weapon, fast, greedy, precise working my clit while his teeth barely grazed the sensitive flesh, sending jolts through my entire spine.

"Yes. Yes… oh my God," I moaned, back arching off the bed as he licked lower, teasing my entrance before plunging two fingers inside me.

"You taste so fucking good," he growled into me.

His free hand reached up to my left breast, fingers pinching my nipple with just the right amount of bite. I bit down on my lower lip, moaning loudly, as my other hand moved to tease my right breast. My body rocked in sync with his mouth, the pressure inside me coiling fast, so fast I could barely breathe.

Just when the orgasm was about to hit—so close I could taste it—he stopped.

Again.

He pulled back, tongue wet and lips swollen, leaving me gasping, trembling, aching for more.

☆☆☆☆

My head throbbed.

Not the poetic kind—the raw, punishing kind that felt like someone had used my skull as a drum all night. I groaned softly, pressing my hand against my forehead as if that would magically make the pounding stop. My tongue was dry, sticking to the roof of my mouth like sandpaper, and my limbs felt like they’d been borrowed from someone who’d lost a fight with a truck.

And don’t get me started on my thighs.

They ached in that unmistakable, shamefully satisfying way like I’d spent the night riding a stallion with no breaks. Every movement tugged something. I could still feel the ghost of his hands on my hips, the burn from how rough he’d been. I should’ve been embarrassed.

I wasn’t.

How I got home was still a mystery and at God-knows-what hour, probably mumbling nonsense on the front steps until the door magically opened. I didn’t even remember getting into my room. But I made it. Somehow.

So, win.

I pulled the covers tighter around me and exhaled through my nose, eyes fluttering open to a blur of soft morning light spilling through the curtain. My room smelled like faint perfume and something vaguely burnt—toast, maybe? It didn’t click at first.

I stretched. Immediate mistake. A sharp zing shot up my spine, reminding me of just how many positions I’d allowed myself to fold into last night.

Jesus.

I grinned to myself like an idiot.

At least my first time was a blast and unlike he said, I don't regret anything.

He just didn't want to hurt me.

I grinned again.

What a cutie.

His bare chest formed in my head and I messaged my temples.

Not now.

I will be needing that when reporting to Susan and Vivian.

Still, I felt like I needed to soak in hot water, sage the room, and call a chiropractor.

I sat up slowly, the room tilting as I moved.

My stomach growled. Then I heard it, the clink of dishes, a chuckle, and the soft hum of my mom’s voice. And someone else’s. A man.

I frowned.

Is he here already?

I dragged my aching body out of bed, joints popping like microwave popcorn. Every step reminded me of how hard I’d been pounded the night before. God. If I ever saw him again, I was stealing his number and his stamina.

My door cracked open halfway, and I peered out like I was breaking into the house. The smell of eggs and butter hit me in the face.

I shuffled into the hallway and headed toward the kitchen, rubbing my neck. The closer I got, the more I braced for a banter.

“Morning, Mom,” I muttered, stumbling to the fridge for water.

She turned, a bright grin on her face, until it faded fast.

“Clubbing last night?”

I chugged half a bottle of water before answering. “Needed to clear my head after your newly discovered solution,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“To the extent of passing out? That someone had to bring you home?” she asked more aggressively, flipping pancake.

I choked on the water in my mouth.

“Ma?”

"Yes, you passed out and your stepbrother had to bring you home. Someone you don't even know. Thank God he had a picture for easy recognition.”

My breath hitched.

“What are you talking about mom?”

She dropped the spoon, half glaring at me, “ He's over there. Go say thank you.”

I swallowed, then went hurriedly.

There was someone sitting on our seak couch, sipping orange juice like it was a normal Saturday morning. He turned slightly as I entered, and my soul nearly left my body.

Mom looked at me, then at him, beaming with all the pride of someone who had no idea what kind of mess was going on.

“I'm sorry for the trouble. She's not usually like this. It's just the marriage that's making her go through all of this.”

He nodded with a smirk, “ It was nice to assist my stepsister in her time of need.”

I gulped hard, feeling a tingling feeling in my thigh.

“So sweet.” Mom squealed, clapping her hands like a child announcing Christmas. “But I still wanted to make a formal introduction. So here it goes.”

She's about to call it a prank.

“Riley, meet Killian Carter—your stepbrother and my stepson. And Killian, meet my daughter. Riley-soon-to-be-Carter."

My stomach flipped.

Killian Carter.