Rebecca's Honeymoon With Her Stepbrother

I never meant for any of this to happen.

At least that’s what I told myself as I stood on the private balcony of our overwater villa, the warm Mexican breeze tugging at the hem of my white silk honeymoon slip. Twenty-two, freshly married, and already restless. Mark was asleep inside, snoring softly after too many celebratory margaritas. He’d been sweet all day—holding my hand during the sunset catamaran cruise, kissing my forehead, telling me how lucky he was. But when we got back to the suite and he climbed on top of me, it was the same gentle, predictable rhythm I’d endured for the last year. Two minutes of polite thrusting, a quiet grunt, and then he rolled off with a satisfied “I love you, baby.”

I lay there staring at the ceiling, my body humming with unmet need, remembering what it felt like to be fucked like a dirty secret.

Then Derek showed up.

He arrived the next morning as Mark’s ridiculous “best man extension” surprise—his rugged, tattooed stepbrother who was supposed to be in Dubai for another six months. Instead he sauntered into the resort lobby wearing board shorts that hung low on his hips, a tight black tank stretched across his chest, and that arrogant smirk that had ruined me long before I ever said “I do.”

The moment our eyes met across the marble floor, my stomach clenched. He knew. He remembered every filthy detail.

That first afternoon by the infinity pool, while Mark floated on a raft twenty feet away, Derek slid into the water beside me. His hand found my ass under the surface immediately, squeezing hard enough to make me bite my lip.

“Still wearing that innocent little married smile, Becca?” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Does Mark know his perfect new wife used to cry for my cock every night? Beg me to ruin her tight little cunt before he ever got a taste?”

I should have swum away. Instead I shivered and felt my nipples harden against the thin fabric of my bikini.

That night at dinner he sat across from us, eyes locked on mine while he described—in excruciating detail via text—exactly how he was going to bend me over and fuck the wedding vows right out of my married pussy. I kept my phone under the table, thighs pressed together as I read each message.