My ex.
Liana’s POV
The morning after blurred into a haze of stolen kisses and lingering touches, our bodies entwined in Dante's bed until the alarm on my phone buzzed insistently from across the hall. Panic jolted through me—we'd overslept, tangled in the sticky aftermath of our marathon fuck session. Cum-crusted sheets clung to my skin, my thighs slick with the evidence of how many times he'd filled me, claimed me. "Shit," I whispered, scrambling out of his arms. Dante just grinned lazily, his cock already twitching to life against my hip as he pulled me back for one more deep, possessive kiss.
"Go," he murmured, voice rough from all the growling commands he'd barked through the night. "But remember—tonight, my room again. Or yours. Doesn't matter. I'm not done ruining you."
I slipped out, heart racing, darting naked across the hall to my room just as I heard Mom stirring downstairs. A quick shower washed away the surface sins, but not the ache deep inside, the delicious soreness that made every step a reminder of his pierced cock stretching me, owning me. Concealer hid the new marks—bites on my neck, fingerprints on my hips—but nothing could mask the glow in my cheeks or the way my core clenched at the thought of him.
School was a torturous repeat: stolen glances in the halls, his hand brushing mine in passing, sending sparks straight to my clit. By lunch, I was throbbing again, sneaking into the bathroom to touch myself quickly, imagining his fingers instead, his cum still faintly leaking from me despite the shower. Sasha's glares had intensified, her whispers following me like shadows, but I ignored her. What did she know about this kind of fire?
After school, Dante had practice—soccer, his lean muscles flexing under the field lights in ways that made me wet just thinking about it. I headed home alone, the house empty and echoing. Mom and Richard were out for some couples' therapy session or whatever bullshit they did to pretend our "blended family" was perfect. I dropped my bag in the kitchen, grabbing a snack, when the doorbell rang. Odd— we weren't expecting anyone.
I peeked through the peephole, and my stomach dropped like a stone. There, standing on the porch with that same cocky smile and tousled blond hair, was Jake. My ex. The guy I'd dated for six months last year, before he got too clingy, too vanilla, and I dumped him right before summer. What the fuck was he doing here?
I opened the door a crack, forcing a neutral expression. "Jake? What are you... why are you here?"
He leaned against the frame, eyes raking over me in that familiar way—hungry, but not the dark, consuming hunger Dante ignited. "Hey, Li. Long time. I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by. Miss me?" His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, something off. He held up a small envelope. "Plus, I found some old stuff of yours in my car. Pics, mostly. Thought you'd want 'em back."
Pics? My mind raced. We'd taken some selfies, sure, but nothing explicit—he'd always been too straight-laced for that. I stepped aside reluctantly, letting him in. "Uh, sure. Come in, I guess. But make it quick—family stuff soon."
He sauntered into the living room, plopping down on the couch like he owned the place. "Family stuff, huh? How's that going? Your mom still with that guy... Richard? And his son—Dante, right? The brooding type."
I nodded tightly, perching on the arm of the chair across from him. "Yeah, it's fine. Normal." Liar. Nothing was normal anymore. My panties were damp just from the residual ache, and now this?
Jake pulled out the envelope, but instead of handing it over, he flipped it open, spilling a few printed photos onto the coffee table. Innocent stuff: us at a beach, laughing at a party. But then he smirked, pulling out his phone. "Actually, these aren't the only ones. I, uh, kept some digital copies. Remember that night after prom? You were wild, Li. Sent me those nudes when I was away at camp."
My blood ran cold. I'd forgotten about those—drunk on cheap wine, feeling bold, I'd snapped a few mirror selfies in lingerie, tits out, ass arched. Nothing showing everything, but enough to be embarrassing if they got out. "Jake, what the hell? Delete those. We broke up ages ago."
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing with a mix of hurt and something darker—jealousy? "Why? You moved on so fast. Heard rumors, you know. About you and Dante. People saying you're fucking your stepbrother. Is that true? Sasha told me she saw his car rocking in the lot. You slutting it up with family now?"
Heat flushed my face—anger, shame, but also a twisted arousal at the memory. "That's none of your business. Give me the envelope and get out."
He stood, stepping closer, towering over me. "Or what? Maybe I should show these to your mom. Or post them. Unless... you make it worth my while." His hand reached out, brushing my arm, and I recoiled, but he grabbed my wrist. "Come on, Li. One last time. For old times' sake. I bet I'm better than that freak with the piercings."
How did he know about the piercing? Sasha must've spread every detail she'd overheard or imagined. Disgust roiled in my gut, but before I could shove him away, the front door slammed open. Dante stormed in, practice bag slung over his shoulder, sweat glistening on his skin, eyes blazing with fury. He'd clearly heard the tail end—his gaze flicked from Jake's hand on my wrist to the photos on the table, piecing it together in seconds.
"Get your fucking hands off her," Dante growled, voice low and lethal, dropping his bag with a thud. He crossed the room in two strides, shoving Jake back hard enough to make him stumble. "You deaf? She said get out."
Jake recovered, puffing up his chest. "Who the hell are you to tell me? Oh, wait—stepbro. Yeah, I get it now. You're the one banging her. Sick fuck."
Dante's fist clenched, but he held back, glancing at me. "Liana, you okay?"
I nodded, heart pounding—not just from fear, but from the raw protectiveness in his eyes, the way his muscles tensed under his jersey. It was hot, possessive, making my core throb despite the chaos. "Yeah. Just... get him out."
Dante turned back to Jake, grabbing him by the collar and marching him toward the door. "Delete those pics, asshole. Or I'll make sure you regret it. And stay the fuck away from her."
Jake snarled, yanking free on the porch. "This isn't over. Everyone's gonna know what a whore she is—with you." He stormed off to his car, peeling out with a screech.
The door shut, and Dante locked it, turning to me with concern etching his features. But under it, that familiar heat simmered. "What the fuck was that? Your ex?"
I exhaled shakily, stepping into his arms. "Yeah. He had old pics. Threatening to spread them. And... he knows about us. Rumors from Sasha."
Dante's hands roamed my back, soothing but igniting. "Fuck him. I'll handle it. No one's touching you but me." He tilted my chin up, kissing me fiercely, tongue claiming my mouth like he owned it—which he did. The adrenaline surged, turning fear into fire. His cock hardened against my belly, and I ground against him instinctively.
"Upstairs," he murmured against my lips. "Now. I need to remind you who you belong to."
We barely made it to my room before he had me pinned to the bed, clothes ripping off in a frenzy. "Spread for me, stepsis," he commanded, diving between my thighs to lick me clean of any doubt. "Gonna fuck every thought of him out of you. Fill you till you're dripping only me."
And he did—hard, deep, the piercing dragging screams from my throat as he pounded me into oblivion. The twist of Jake's return only fueled us, turning threat into triumph. But deep down, I knew this inferno was spreading—secrets leaking, risks mounting. And God help me, it only made me want more.