Forbidden Step Family Taboo Romance | The Heat of the House

The air conditioning had been broken for three days when Lila first noticed the way Jake was looking at her.

Nineteen years old and home from her first year of community college, she stood in the kitchen of the sprawling suburban house her mother had bought with Marcus two years ago, wearing nothing but a thin cotton tank top and sleep shorts that rode high on her thighs. The August heat had turned the California home into a sauna, and sweat beaded along her collarbone as she reached into the refrigerator for a pitcher of lemonade.

She felt his eyes before she saw him—an electric prickle against her skin that made the fine hairs on her arms stand up despite the ninety-degree temperature.

"Thirsty, little stepsister?"

Jake's voice came from the doorway, smooth and edged with something that hadn't been there before she left for school nine months ago. She turned slowly, clutching the cold glass pitcher to her chest, and found him leaning against the doorframe in nothing but basketball shorts that hung dangerously low on his hips.

At twenty-two, her stepbrother had transformed from the lanky, arrogant boy she'd reluctantly accepted into her life when their parents married into something else entirely. The university athlete had filled out, his chest now broad and sculpted, abs cut like marble beneath tanned skin that gleamed with perspiration. Dark hair curled damply against his forehead, and his hazel eyes—eyes she'd known for three years—traveled over her body with a hunger that made her stomach flip.

"I'm making lemonade," she said, her voice coming out thinner than she intended. "Do you want some?"

Jake pushed off the doorframe and moved toward her with the predatory grace of someone who knew exactly how much space his body occupied. He'd been the cocky jock in high school, the guy who'd smirked at her across dinner tables while their parents discussed mortgage rates and vacation plans, but now that smirk had evolved into something devastatingly adult.

"I want something," he said, stopping close enough that she could smell the clean sweat of him, the masculine scent that made her mouth go dry. "But it's not lemonade, Lila."

He'd never called her by name like that before—like he was tasting it, rolling it across his tongue. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she became acutely aware of how her nipples had hardened beneath the thin fabric of her tank, pressing visible points against the cotton that she knew he could see.

"Jake—" she started, but he was already reaching past her, his arm brushing against her shoulder as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet above her head. The movement trapped her between his body and the counter, and she could feel the heat radiating off him, mixing with her own rising temperature.

"Your mom and my dad are in Napa until Sunday," he said quietly, his breath warm against her ear. "It's just us, Lila. Has been for two days. And I've been watching you walk around this house in practically nothing, and I'm done pretending I don't see you."

She should have pushed him away. Should have reminded him that they were stepsiblings, that their parents were married, that this was wrong on every level society recognized. But her body had been screaming for attention since she hit puberty, and the only hands that had ever touched her were her own in the darkness of her bedroom, imagining exactly this—rough male hands and whispered promises and the dangerous edge of something forbidden.

"I see you too," she whispered, the confession slipping out before she could catch it.

Jake went very still. Then his free hand came up, calloused fingers tracing the line of her jaw with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity in his eyes. "You've been driving me insane," he murmured. "Those little shorts. The way you bend over. I hear you at night, Lila. Through the walls. I know what you do in there."

Her face flamed with embarrassment and arousal in equal measure. "You—"

"I listen," he admitted, his thumb pressing against her lower lip. "I stroke myself and I listen to you touch that pretty little pussy, and I imagine it's my fingers inside you. My mouth. My cock."

The crude words should have shocked her. Instead, liquid heat pooled between her thighs, and she felt herself growing wet, her body preparing itself for something she'd only fantasized about in the most secret corners of her imagination.

"Jake, we can't," she breathed, but she didn't move away. Didn't want to move away.

"Can't we?" His hand slid down her throat, fingers wrapping loosely around the column of her neck in a gesture of possession that made her knees weak. "Tell me to stop, Lila. Tell me to go to my room and take a cold shower and forget how you look right now—like you want me to ruin you."

She couldn't say it. The words wouldn't form.

Jake made a rough sound in his throat and then his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding, his tongue sweeping past her lips to claim territory that had never been invaded. The kiss was nothing like the fumbling attempts she'd experienced with boys at parties—this was a man's kiss, confident and consuming, his hand fisting in her hair to tilt her head back as he devoured her.

The lemonade pitcher hit the floor with a crash, forgotten, as Lila's hands found his shoulders, her fingers digging into hard muscle as she pressed herself against him. She could feel his erection, thick and insistent against her stomach, and the reality of it—the solid weight of male arousal—sent a thrill of nervous excitement through her virgin body.

"Fuck," Jake groaned against her mouth, his hands dropping to her waist and lifting her easily onto the kitchen counter. "You're so goddamn soft. I've been dreaming about this—about spreading you out and making you scream my name."

His hands pushed under her tank top, calloused palms rough against her sensitive skin as he dragged the fabric up and over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up. Jake pulled back to look at her, his gaze devouring her small, high breasts with their pink, peaked nipples, and the expression on his face—reverent and ravenous simultaneously—made her feel beautiful in a way she never had before.

"Perfect," he muttered, and then his mouth was on her breast, sucking hard, his tongue flicking against her nipple until she cried out, her head falling back against the cabinet. One of his hands pushed between her thighs, pressing against the damp cotton of her shorts, and he groaned against her flesh.

"You're already wet for me," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Soaked. Is this all for your stepbrother, Lila? Have you been fantasizing about this too?"

"Yes," she gasped, arching into his touch as his fingers found her clit through the fabric, rubbing in tight circles that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her core. "Oh god, Jake, yes—"

"Say it," he commanded, biting gently at her nipple and making her cry out. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," she whimpered, her hips rolling against his hand, seeking friction, seeking more. "I want you inside me. Please, Jake—"

He pulled back, his eyes dark and dangerous, and hooked his fingers in the waistband of her shorts. "Lift up."

She did, and he stripped the garment from her, leaving her completely naked on the kitchen counter, exposed and vulnerable and so aroused she could feel her own wetness slicking her thighs. Jake stepped back to look at her, his chest heaving, his cock straining visibly against his shorts.

"Spread your legs," he ordered. "Show me what I've been jerking off to for three years."

Trembling, Lila obeyed, parting her thighs to reveal herself to him completely. The cool air of the kitchen hit her heated flesh, and she felt a moment of shyness, of uncertainty—she'd never been naked in front of anyone before, had never let anyone see this most intimate part of her.

But Jake's reaction banished her insecurities. He made a sound like a man in pain, his hand going to his cock and squeezing through the fabric of his shorts. "Christ, Lila. You're fucking beautiful. So pink and wet and perfect."

He dropped to his knees right there on the tile floor, his big hands gripping her thighs and pushing them wider. "I'm going to taste you first," he informed her, his breath hot against her most sensitive flesh. "I'm going to eat this virgin pussy until you're begging me to fuck you. And then, little stepsister, I'm going to take what I've wanted since the day my dad married your mom."

His mouth descended on her, and Lila's world narrowed to the wet heat of his tongue sliding through her folds, circling her clit with devastating precision. She cried out, her hands flying to his hair, gripping the dark strands as he devoured her with enthusiastic, filthy sounds that echoed in the empty house.

Jake knew exactly what he was doing—his tongue dipping inside her, then returning to her clit, sucking and licking and driving her toward an edge she'd only ever approached alone in the dark. The sensation was overwhelming, too intense, and she tried to squirm away but his hands held her firmly in place, keeping her spread open for his feast.

"Jake, please—" she gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. "I can't—it's too much—"

"Let go," he commanded against her flesh, the vibration of his voice sending new shocks through her system. "Come for me, Lila. Give me your first orgasm with a man's mouth on you."

He sucked her clit between his lips and flicked it rapidly with his tongue, and Lila shattered, her cry echoing through the kitchen as pleasure crashed over her in waves. Her whole body convulsed, her thighs clamping around his head as wave after wave of sensation radiated from her core, leaving her limp and gasping and boneless.

Jake didn't give her time to recover. He stood up, shoving his shorts down and freeing his cock, and Lila's eyes went wide at the sight of him—thick and long and veined, the head dark and swollen with arousal, pre-cum already beading at the slit.

"Touch me," he demanded, guiding her hand to wrap around his shaft. "Feel what you do to me."

He was hot and heavy in her palm, silky skin over steel, and Lila explored him tentatively, her fingers tracing the veins, her thumb spreading the moisture at his tip. Jake groaned, his hips thrusting into her grip, his eyes rolling back.

"That's it," he gritted out. "Just like that. Christ, your hands are so soft."

He stepped closer, positioning himself between her spread thighs, the head of his cock nudging against her entrance. Lila felt a moment of panic—he was big, so much bigger than her fingers, and she'd heard the first time hurt—but Jake seemed to read her fear in her eyes.

"I'll go slow," he promised, his voice rough with restraint. "Tell me if it's too much. But Lila—" He paused, the tip of him pressing just inside her, stretching her virgin entrance. "I've wanted this for so long. I need to feel you. Need to be inside this tight little pussy."

He pushed forward, slowly, steadily, and Lila gasped at the stretch, the burning sensation as her body adjusted to his invasion. Jake's jaw was clenched tight, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought for control, feeding himself into her inch by inch until he was seated fully, his hips flush against hers, his cock buried to the hilt in her virgin depths.

"Fuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. "You're so tight. So hot and tight and perfect. Don't move, baby, just let me feel you for a second."

Lila could feel her inner muscles fluttering around him, adjusting to his thickness, and the initial pain was fading, replaced by a fullness that made her want to move, to rock, to feel him sliding inside her. She experimentally clenched around him, and Jake cursed, his hips jerking involuntarily.

"Jesus, Lila—"

"Move," she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Please, Jake. I need—"

He didn't need more encouragement. He pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, then thrust back in with a force that made her cry out—not in pain, but in shocked pleasure as he hit a spot deep inside her that made stars burst behind her eyes.

"Like that?" he asked, his voice guttural, and then he was moving, establishing a rhythm that started slow and deep and quickly grew faster, harder, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the kitchen along with their gasping breaths.

Lila had never imagined it could feel like this—the friction of him sliding inside her, the way he filled her completely, the pressure building again in her core with every thrust. Jake's hands were everywhere—gripping her hips, pinching her nipples, sliding down to rub her clit in time with his strokes—and she could feel herself climbing toward another peak, the sensation sharper and more intense with him inside her.

"You're going to come on my cock," Jake told her, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as his own orgasm approached. "I want to feel you squeeze me when you come. Want to feel this virgin pussy milking me dry."

His dirty words pushed her over the edge, and Lila came with a scream, her body convulsing around him, her nails raking down his back as pleasure ripped through her. Jake groaned her name and then he was coming too, thrusting deep and holding there as he pulsed inside her, filling her with hot spurts of his release, marking her from within as his.

They collapsed together, breathing hard, Jake's weight pressing her back against the counter as they both struggled to recover. Lila's mind was spinning—she'd just lost her virginity to her stepbrother on the kitchen counter, and she couldn't bring herself to care about the wrongness of it when her body was still singing with pleasure.

"That was—" she started, but Jake cut her off with a kiss, softer now, lingering.

"Just the beginning," he promised, his hand cupping her breast possessively. "We're just getting started, little stepsister. I have three days to teach you everything you've been missing."

They didn't make it three days.

By the time their parents were due back from Napa, Lila had been thoroughly initiated into the world of physical pleasure. Jake had taken her in every room of the house—bent over the couch in the living room, pressed against the shower wall in his bathroom, on her knees in his bedroom with his cock in her mouth while he taught her how to please him with her tongue. He'd introduced her to positions she'd never imagined, to the sharp pleasure-pain of his hand on her ass when she disobeyed, to the overwhelming sensation of coming with his fingers hooked inside her, rubbing against that secret spot that made her see stars.

She was addicted to him—to his taste, his smell, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing he wanted to consume. They'd established a pattern of stolen moments and secret touches, of maintaining the facade of normal stepsiblings in public while devouring each other in private.

But Lila had started to notice something else—a new tension in the house that had nothing to do with her and Jake.

Marcus had been watching her too.

Their stepfather was forty-five, a successful architect with silver threading through his dark hair and a commanding presence that filled any room he entered. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his body kept fit by early morning runs and weekend tennis games, and he'd always been kind to Lila in a distant, parental way.

But since she'd returned from college, something had shifted. She'd catch him looking at her over dinner, his gaze lingering on her chest or her mouth before he caught himself and looked away. He'd started touching her more—hands on her shoulders, fingers brushing her lower back as he passed her in the hallway, the occasional hug that lasted a beat too long.

Lila told herself she was imagining it. Told herself that the growing awareness she felt whenever Marcus was near was just leftover arousal from her encounters with Jake. But then came the night that proved her wrong.

She'd been in the laundry room, wearing one of Jake's oversized t-shirts and nothing else, sorting clothes while her stepbrother was at the gym. The house was quiet, her mother working late at the office, and Lila was humming to herself, lost in thoughts of the night before when Jake had taken her from behind, his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.

"You're wearing his shirt."

The voice came from the doorway, deep and authoritative, and Lila jumped, her heart hammering as she turned to find Marcus standing there in his suit from work, his tie loosened, his jacket discarded, watching her with an intensity that made her mouth go dry.

"Marcus—I didn't hear you come in," she stammered, clutching the fabric of Jake's shirt, suddenly aware of how short it was, how it barely covered her ass, how she wasn't wearing a bra beneath it.

"I noticed." He stepped into the laundry room, closing the door behind him, and the space suddenly felt very small, very intimate. "You've been wearing Jake's clothes a lot lately. Sleeping in his t-shirts. Walking around the house in them."

Lila's face flushed. "I—it's just comfortable—"

"Is it?" Marcus moved closer, and she could smell his cologne, expensive and masculine, mixed with the scent of his skin. "Or is it something else? Something you want me to notice?"

"I don't know what you mean," she whispered, but her voice shook, betraying her.

Marcus reached out, his large hand cupping her chin and tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, unreadable, filled with a heat that made her stomach flip. "I've seen you, Lila. Seen the way you look at him. The way he looks at you. Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I don't know what my son is doing to his stepsister in the dark hours of the night?"

Fear and arousal twisted together in her gut. "Marcus, I—"

"You've been a bad girl," he interrupted, his thumb pressing against her lower lip in a gesture that eerily echoed Jake's first touch. "Sneaking around with your stepbrother. Letting him defile that innocent body. I should be angry. Should punish you both for this betrayal of our family."

He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "But I find I'm not angry, Lila. I find I'm jealous."

The confession sent a shock through her system, and she swayed on her feet, her hands coming up to brace against his chest. He was solid muscle beneath his dress shirt, warm and hard and so much bigger than Jake, so much more overwhelming.

"You want to know what I think?" Marcus continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I think one man isn't enough for you anymore. I think Jake woke something in you—some need to be possessed, to be dominated, to be claimed by men who should know better. And I think, little girl, that you're going to let me have you too."

His hand slid down from her chin, trailing along her throat, her collarbone, dipping lower to cup her breast through the thin cotton. Lila gasped, her nipple peaking instantly against his palm, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed that this was wrong, that this was her stepfather, that Jake would be furious—

"You're already wet," Marcus observed, his other hand sliding up her bare thigh beneath the shirt, finding her without panties, his fingers sliding through her folds with practiced ease. "Just from me touching you. From me telling you what I'm going to do to you. You're soaked, Lila. Is this how you are for Jake? Or is this special for me?"

"I—please—" she whimpered, not sure if she was begging him to stop or to continue, her hips rocking involuntarily against his hand as he circled her clit with devastating precision.

"Please what?" He pressed two fingers inside her, and she cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders as he began to pump them, curling them to hit that spot that made her legs weak. "Please stop? Or please give you what your stepbrother can't? Please show you what it's like to be taken by a man who knows exactly what he's doing?"

He was bigger than Jake in every way—his hands, his presence, the sheer dominance that radiated from him. Where Jake was passionate and rough and urgent, Marcus was controlled, deliberate, each movement calculated to drive her to the edge of madness.

"I've watched you grow up," Marcus murm, his fingers working her relentlessly while his thumb pressed against her clit. "Watched you blossom into this beautiful, desirable woman. And I've imagined this—imagined bending you over, imagined teaching you what it means to submit completely. Jake thinks he owns you, but he's just a boy. I'm going to show you what it means to be owned by a man."

He withdrew his fingers suddenly, leaving her gasping and empty, and before she could protest, he was lifting her onto the washing machine, spreading her thighs wide as he dropped to his knees. The position was so similar to what Jake had done in the kitchen, but Marcus's approach was different—he took his time, studying her with dark eyes, his breath hot against her most intimate flesh.

"So pretty," he murmured, and then his tongue was on her, slow and deliberate, tracing every fold, circling her entrance before finally, finally, settling on her clit with firm, unrelenting pressure.

Lila's head fell back against the wall, her hands gripping the edge of the machine as Marcus ate her with the same focused intensity he brought to everything in his life. He wasn't rushed, wasn't desperate—he was savoring her, drawing out her pleasure with methodical precision, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her spread wide for his feast.

"Marcus—oh god—" she gasped, her hips bucking against his mouth, seeking more friction, more pressure. "Please—"

He hummed against her, the vibration sending new shocks through her system, and then he was pushing two fingers back inside her, curling them to rub against her g-spot while his tongue continued its devastating assault on her clit. The dual sensation was too much, overwhelming, and Lila felt herself spiraling toward orgasm with terrifying speed.

"Come for me," Marcus commanded, looking up at her with dark, glittering eyes, his mouth wet with her arousal. "Come on your stepfather's tongue, Lila. Show me how bad you want this."

His words pushed her over, and she came with a cry that she knew echoed through the empty house, her body convulsing around his fingers, her thighs clamping around his head as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. Marcus didn't stop, drawing out her orgasm with relentless strokes of his tongue until she was whimpering, oversensitive, trying to squirm away from the intensity.

Only then did he stand, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark with satisfaction and arousal. "Good girl," he praised, his hand going to his belt. "Now I'm going to take what's mine."

He freed his cock, and Lila's eyes went wide—he was thicker than Jake, the head broad and swollen, veins standing out along the shaft. He was fully erect, pre-cum beading at the tip, and the sight of him made her mouth water even as her body clenched with anticipation and a hint of fear.

"Touch it," he ordered, guiding her hand to wrap around his girth. "Feel what you do to me. I've been hard for you for months, Lila. Jerking off in my office thinking about this tight little body. Thinking about how it would feel to be inside you while you call me Daddy."

The word sent a forbidden thrill through her, and she stroked him tentatively, marveling at his size, at the heat and weight of him in her palm. Marcus groaned, his hips thrusting into her grip, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders.