I'll kill her for touching you.
Liana's POV
The door to my room clicked shut like a jail cell locking, the sound echoing in the hollow pit of my stomach. I pressed my back against it, sliding down until my ass hit the carpet, knees drawn up to my chest as sobs tore through me in ragged waves. My cheek burned from Mom's slap, a hot, pulsing reminder of how far we'd fallen—how one reckless moment (or a hundred) had shattered the fragile illusion of our perfect family. Down the hall, I heard Dante's door slam too, the thin walls doing nothing to muffle the frustrated growl that followed. God, what had we done? The photos—those intimate snapshots of us tangled in passion, my body arched in ecstasy, his piercing glinting as he claimed me—were out there now, venomous little bombs courtesy of Jake's spite. And here I was, still leaking Dante's essence from our rooftop tryst, the sticky warmth between my thighs a cruel mockery of the desire that had led us here.
I wiped at my tears with the back of my hand, tasting salt on my lips, my mind racing through a whirlwind of panic and regret. Therapists? Authorities? The words looped in my head like a nightmare reel. We weren't blood-related, but the taboo was ironclad—society's judgment, the legal gray areas if they spun it as coercion or worse. Richard's rage flashed in my memory, his face contorted like he'd caught us mid-act, ready to disown Dante on the spot. And Mom... her eyes, usually so warm, had been glaciers, cutting me to the bone. "Slut." The word stung worse than the slap, embedding itself deep where my insecurities festered.
But beneath the fear, a spark flickered—defiant, unyielding. Dante and I... it wasn't just lust. It was fire, consuming and real, the kind that didn't bow to rules or reputations. I glanced at my phone, half-expecting a text from him, but the screen was dark. No risks now, not with our parents on high alert downstairs, their voices murmuring in heated debate from the kitchen. I could make out fragments: "...separate them... different universities... police if necessary..." My heart clenched. We had to talk, had to plan. Jake needed to pay, but more than that, we needed to salvage this—us.
Hours dragged by in agonizing slowness, the house settling into an uneasy quiet as night fell. I changed into an oversized tee and shorts, the fabric soft against my sensitized skin, but every shift reminded me of the ache in my core, the phantom stretch of Dante inside me. Midnight came and went, the clock ticking like a countdown. Finally, when the snores from our parents' room rumbled through the vents—Richard's deep and rhythmic, Mom's softer—I crept to my door, ear pressed against the wood. Silence. Holding my breath, I twisted the knob slowly, slipping into the hallway on bare feet.
Dante's door was ajar, a sliver of lamplight spilling out like an invitation. I pushed it open, heart pounding, and there he was—pacing the room like a caged lion, sweatpants riding low on his hips, his bare chest rising and falling with barely contained fury. His eyes snapped to mine, dark and stormy, but they softened instantly, pulling me in. "Liana," he whispered, crossing the space in two strides to crush me against him, his arms banding around me like steel. "Fuck, your face—does it hurt? I'll kill her for touching you."
I shook my head, burying my face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him—musk and soap, grounding me. "It's fine. Dante, what are we gonna do? They're talking about kicking us out, calling the cops..."
He pulled back, cupping my stinging cheek gently, his thumb tracing the welt with a tenderness that made my eyes prick again. "We fight back. First, that asshole Jake—he's done. I'll handle him tomorrow, make him delete every last file, confess if I have to beat it out of him." His voice dropped, laced with venom, but his gaze on me turned heated, raking over my body like he could devour the pain away. "But us? We're not stopping. They can't dictate this."
His words ignited that spark in me, turning it to flame. I pressed closer, feeling his cock twitch against my belly through the thin fabric, already hardening. "Here? Now? With them right down the hall?" The risk was insane—suicidal, even—but that's what made my pulse race, my core clench with fresh need.
"Especially now," he growled, backing me toward his bed, his mouth crashing down on mine in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation, tongues battling for dominance. "Show them we won't break. Quiet, though—make it hurt so good you have to bite my shoulder to stay silent."
I nodded frantically, shoving his sweatpants down as he yanked my shorts aside, not even bothering to remove them fully. His cock sprang free, thick and ready, the piercing cool against my palm as I stroked him once, twice, guiding him to my entrance. I was soaked—fear and arousal a potent mix— and he slid in with a muffled groan, filling me to the hilt in one thrust that had me gasping into his mouth.
"Fuck, Liana—always so wet for me," he whispered harshly, lifting my legs to wrap around his waist as he drove deep, the bed frame protesting softly with each rock. His hand clamped over my mouth gently, stifling my whimpers as he set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping with controlled power. "Feel that? That's us—unbreakable. Come for your stepbrother while they sleep, dreaming of splitting us up."
The danger amplified every sensation—the creak of the mattress, the wet slap of our bodies, the distant snore that could turn to footsteps at any second. His free hand slipped between us, fingers rubbing my clit in tight circles, the piercing dragging along my walls with every plunge. I bit down on his palm to muffle my cry as the orgasm built, fast and furious, my pussy fluttering around him.
"That's it—milk me, baby," he hissed, thrusting erratically now, his own release barreling down. "Gonna fill you up again. Our secret, right under their noses."
I shattered, vision whiting out as pleasure ripped through me, clenching him rhythmically until he followed with a strangled groan, hot spurts painting my insides once more. We collapsed in a tangle, breaths mingling, his weight a comforting anchor.
As the haze cleared, he kissed my forehead, voice soft but resolute. "Tomorrow, we confront Jake. Make him pay. And if our parents try to tear us apart? We run. Together."
I nodded, curling into him, the ache in my cheek fading against the warmth in my chest. The storm wasn't over—but with Dante buried deep inside me, leaking his claim, I felt ready to weather it. Whatever came next, we'd face it as one.