Frozen in Sin

Cody’s inked hands still gripped Paulina’s waist like he owned every inch of her as she straddled him reverse, her back arched, long hair sticking to the sweat between her shoulder blades. The childhood bedroom smelled of sex and old wood and the charcoal dust that had started everything—his secret drawing of her naked body, hidden for years in the attic until she’d found it that afternoon and finally forced them both to stop pretending. Twenty-eight and twenty-two, stepbrother and stepsister shoved back under one roof after the divorce, and all those buried years of watching each other had detonated into this: his thick cock buried to the root inside her soaked cunt, her thighs trembling as she ground down in slow, filthy circles.

“Fuck, look at you,” Cody rasped against her spine, voice rough from the way she’d deepthroated him earlier until tears streaked her face. “Riding your stepbrother’s cock like you’ve been starving for it since you were eighteen. Tell me how wrong it is.”

Paulina laughed, breathless and wrecked, rolling her hips so his piercing dragged along her front wall. “So fucking wrong. Mom would lose her mind. The whole family. And I still want you deeper. Stretch me open, Cody. Use your little stepsister the way you’ve always wanted.”

He thrust up hard, making her gasp. Her literature textbooks were still stacked on the desk; his tattoo machines sat in a half-unpacked box by the door. None of it mattered. Only the wet slap of her pussy taking every inch, the way her inner walls fluttered and squeezed like she was trying to milk him dry. He had bent her over the mattress first—face in the pillows, ass up—pounding her from behind while she moaned about every filthy fantasy she’d carried: his mouth on her clit in the dark hallway, his cum painted across her tits, the two of them fucking right under Vanessa’s nose. Then he’d flipped her, pulled her astride facing away, and let her ride.