I woke up to the sound of his breathing—slow, heavy, deep. The kind of breathing you only hear when someone’s completely knocked out or completely turned on.
My head throbbed from the tequila, but it wasn’t just the hangover that had my pulse racing. It was the thick weight pressed up against me from behind. Him. My stepbrother.
Luca.
The guest room was small—barely big enough for one twin bed. But that’s what we got stuck with after the wedding. Every other room in the house was full of cousins, drunk aunts, and passed-out friends of the bride. We were the last to show up and the first to get shafted.
At first, I thought the closeness was just from the tight space. But then I felt it. His cock. Hard. Thick. Pushing right up between my cheeks.
I froze.
He didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Just kept breathing like he was asleep. Maybe he was. But that bulge was wide awake. My shorts were riding low—wedding clothes discarded fast and sloppy last night, and I hadn’t bothered to put on boxers. The thin cotton did nothing to hide what was happening.
His hand shifted, fingers brushing my waist. I held my breath.
Then it happened. A slow grind.
One. Two.
I gripped the pillow tighter, waiting for him to stop. He didn’t. Instead, his hips rolled again. This time firmer, cock sliding along the crack of my ass. My body betrayed me. My own dick stiffened, pressing into the sheets.
“Luca…” I whispered. Barely audible.
He froze.
Then, after a pause, his mouth came to my ear.
“You awake?” he murmured.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
He bit my earlobe, slow and dirty. “Good.”
One arm hooked under my chest, the other yanked my shorts down to my thighs. I gasped as the air hit me, my ass bare, cock throbbing. His hand slid up my stomach, finding my nipple, pinching hard.
“You’ve been teasing me all weekend,” he growled. “Wearing those tight-ass pants. You knew what you were doing.”
“I didn’t—”
He shut me up with a slap to my hip. “Don’t lie.”
The next moment, I felt his cock. Hot. Heavy. Bare.