Ruin me, Stepbrother

SCARLETT’S POV

“Oh… Jax… fuck, yes, right there…”

The moan came through the wall like a deliberate temptation, loud and filthy, the headboard slamming in perfect rhythm.

Another girl. Another night of listening to my stepbrother wreck someone who wasn’t me.

I hated her. I hated how she got to feel him stretch her pussy wide, hated how she screamed his name like he belongs to her. My thighs clenched under the covers, pussy already throbbing, slick and aching from the second I’d heard his bedroom door shut about an hour ago.

I should have stayed in my room. I should have put my earbuds in, turned the music up, pretended I didn’t care.

Instead I was in the home gym at three in the morning, sweat dripping between my tits, rowing so hard my arms burned, trying to outrun the sound of her moans while Jax fucked her brains out.

Another scream. “Jax! I’m gonna come.”

My stroke faltered. The machine rolled back and I collapsed forward, forehead pressed to the cool handle, panting. My tiny black sleep shorts were soaked through, not from sweat. I could feel my arousal sliding down my inner thighs every time I moved, the fabric clinging to my swollen lips like a second skin.

I hated him more than I hated her.

Because I knew exactly what he looked like right now: shirtless, abs flexed, that thick cock glistening as he pounded into her from behind. I’d seen it. Too many times. Through cracked doors, through the glass wall of the pool house, through the gap in the blinds when I was supposed to be asleep. I’d watched him grip hips, slap asses, shove fingers into mouths to shut girls up while he fucks them hard.

And every single time I’d come home, locked my door, and fucked myself raw wishing it was me.

The moans stopped. A door slammed upstairs. I could the sound of heels on marble, her leaving. Then silence.

I couldn’t breathe.

I started rowing again, harder, faster, my thighs spreading wide on the seat, the seam of my shorts rubbing my clit with every pull. I was so desperately horny already, just from listening, just from imagining. One more stroke and I could come.

The gym door clicked shut behind me.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. His scent hit me first, sweat, the exact smell of after-sex, and that stupid expensive cologne.

“Hey, little sister.”

His voice was rough from fucking, low and mocking.

I froze, my hands griped the handles so tight my knuckles went white.

Jax stepped into the mirror in front of me. Shirtless. Gray sweats hanging low on his hips, the outline of his half-hard cock was nearly impossible to miss. A sheen of sweat made every cut of muscle gleam. His eyes, dark, cruel, amused, locked on mine in the reflection.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, tilting his head. “Or did the show keep you up?”

My face