My Elder Stepbrother Fucked Me in the Car All Night

The pub door swung shut behind them and the night took the noise with it. Rebecca stood on the sidewalk in her short black dress, the hem high on her thighs, the fabric tight across her hips and the low neckline doing nothing to hide the swell of her breasts. She was twenty-two. The heels made her legs look longer than they were, and the cold raised goosebumps she pretended not to feel. Nathaniel unlocked the car with a soft chirp. He was twenty-seven, broad through the shoulders in a dark coat, the designated driver because Otto’s birthday never ended when the kitchen did. He was her stepbrother. Their parents had married when she was already twenty and he was twenty-five, two adults introduced at a backyard ceremony and then, somehow, stuck in each other’s orbit ever since.

“Otto’s going to feel that cake in the morning,” she said, mostly to fill the quiet.

“Otto’s going to feel everything,” Nathaniel said. His eyes dropped, just once, to the line of her cleavage and the bare skin above her knees, then came back to her face like he hadn’t meant to look. He had been doing that all night. Across the sticky pub table. When she leaned over the bar. When she laughed at something Otto’s girlfriend said and the dress rode another inch. She had felt every glance like a hand.

They got in. The car smelled like his cologne and the pine air freshener he never replaced. He started the engine. Streetlights slid over the dash as they pulled away from the curb, the pub shrinking in the mirror until it was only a red smear. Rebecca crossed her legs. The dress climbed. She didn’t tug it down.

“You cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

He reached for the heat without looking at her legs again. She watched his hand on the dial and thought about how carefully he was not looking. The silence between them had a weight to it, thick as the dark outside the windows. They passed the last lit blocks and the road opened into fields and a long empty stretch with no houses, only the occasional mile marker and the white line unspooling under the headlights.

Nathaniel’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “That dress,” he said, and then stopped, like the rest of the sentence had gotten away from him.

“What about it?”

“I’ve been trying not to stare at you since we walked in.” His voice was lower than it had been in the pub. “The way it sits on you. Your legs. All of you. I kept telling myself to knock it off and I couldn’t.”

Heat moved through her, low and immediate. She turned in the seat so the dress pulled tighter across her ass and the neckline shifted. “I wore it because I wanted you to look,” she said. “I stood in front of the mirror and thought about you seeing me in it. That’s why it’s this short. That’s why I didn’t wear much under it.”

He exhaled, a rough sound. “Rebecca.”

“I’m not drunk,” she said, because she needed him to know. “I had one beer at eight and soda after that. You’re sober. I’m sober. And I want you to pull over.”

The tires crunched gravel before she finished the sentence. He took the next turnout, a wide dirt shoulder screened by trees, and killed the engine. The headlights died. For a second there was only their breathing and the tick of cooling metal.

“Say it again,” he said.

“I want you.” She unbuckled and leaned across the console, close enough that her mouth almost touched his. “Not as a joke. Not because it’s late. I’ve wanted you since the wedding weekend, since I was twenty and you looked at me like you weren’t allowed to. Pull me into the back and kiss me, Nathaniel. If you want that too.”

“I want that,” he said. “I want you. All night, if you’ll let me.”

“Then come here.”

They climbed between the seats, awkward and laughing once, knees knocking, her heel catching the console before she kicked both shoes off. The back seat was wide enough if they didn’t care about elegance. She didn’t. He caught her face in both hands and kissed her like he’d been holding the want in his mouth for hours. It was deep and hot and a little desperate, his tongue sliding against hers, his stubble scraping her chin. She opened for him and made a sound she didn’t try to hide. His hands moved down her sides, over the black dress, learning the shape of her waist and the curve of her ass through the thin fabric.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said against her mouth. “I’ve been hard half the night thinking about this dress on the floor.”

“Then take it off.”

He found the zipper at her back and drew it down slowly, kissing her throat while he did it. The dress loosened. She lifted her arms and he peeled it up and off, careful with her hair, and the little black thing ended up crumpled on the front passenger seat. Under it she wore a black lace bra and a thong so small it barely counted. His eyes went dark. He sat back for a second just to look at her, twenty-two and flushed and wanting, nipples tight under the lace, thighs parted on the leather.

“Fuck,” he said, quiet and reverent. “Look at you.”

He kissed the top of her breast, then lower, mouthing her through the bra until she arched. His hands were warm and sure, thumbs stroking the undersides, then he unhooked the bra and let it fall. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, slow and thorough, while his palm covered the other breast and squeezed. Rebecca’s head tipped back against the window. Every pull of his mouth went straight between her legs. He switched sides, licking, biting just enough to make her gasp, then soothing with his tongue. His free hand slid down her stomach, over the thong, and cupped her. She was already wet enough that the lace clung.

“Please,” she said.

He hooked the thong aside and dragged two fingers through her, slow, spreading the slick. “You’re soaked.”

“Because of you. Because you kept looking at me like you were going to bend me over the bar.”

He laughed once, breathless, and pushed the thong down her legs. Then he lowered his mouth. The first lick was long and flat, from her entrance up to her clit, and she cried out, one hand flying to his hair. He did it again, and again, settling in like he had nowhere else to be. His tongue circled her clit, then flicked, then pressed, while two fingers slid inside her and curled. She rocked against his face, thighs trembling, the car filling with the wet sound of his mouth and her broken little moans. He groaned into her like her taste was doing something to him. She came with her heels braced on the seat and his name in her throat, pulsing around his fingers, and he didn’t stop until she tugged his hair and begged him up.

Nathaniel stripped fast, shirt, belt, pants, boxers kicked aside. His cock was thick and flushed, already wet at the tip. She wrapped her hand around him and stroked once, feeling him jump. “I want you inside me,” she said. “Now. I want you to fuck me.”

“Condom’s in my wallet,” he said, already reaching. She watched him roll it on, chest tight with how much she wanted the weight of him. He guided her down onto her back, one knee bent, the other leg hooked over his hip, and lined himself up. “Tell me if anything’s too much.”

“It won’t be. I want it hard.”

He pushed in slowly anyway, the thick head stretching her, inch by inch, until he was seated deep and they were both shaking. “Jesus, Rebecca. You feel—” He didn’t finish. He drew back and thrust, harder, and she wrapped both legs around his waist and pulled him in. The car rocked. He fucked her in long, driving strokes, one hand braced on the door above her head, the other gripping her thigh. She met him, hips lifting, the slap of skin loud in the small space. His mouth found hers between thrusts, messy and open.

“Wanted this,” he said against her lips. “Wanted you all night. That dress. Your mouth. The way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t watching.”

“I was watching,” she gasped. “I wanted your hands on me. I wanted you to ruin me in this car. Harder.”

He gave it to her. The angle shifted and every thrust ground against the place that made her see white. She clung to his shoulders, nails biting, moaning his name without shame. He was beautiful like this, jaw tight, eyes locked on her face like he needed to see what he was doing to her. She came again with her legs locked around him, clenching hard, and he cursed and held still inside her until the aftershocks eased, kissing her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.

“Your turn to ride me,” he said, voice wrecked. “I want to watch you.”

They rearranged, laughing when his knee hit the console, until he was sitting back and she straddled him facing the front seats, reverse, her hands on his thighs. She sank down onto his cock in one slow glide and they both groaned. From this angle he felt even deeper. She rolled her hips, grinding, finding the rhythm that dragged her clit against him with every circle. His hands clamped her waist, then her ass, spreading her, guiding her faster.

“That’s it,” he said. “Use me. Take what you want.”

She did. She rode him hard, thighs burning, the wet sound of her pussy on his cock filling the car. He thrust up to meet her, grip bruising-sweet on her hips, and she reached back to hold his wrist so he’d know she wanted the roughness. “Don’t stop,” she said. “God, Nathaniel, you feel so good. I’ve thought about riding you like this. Thought about your cock in me while you watched my ass.”

“I’m watching,” he said, and slapped her ass once, light, then gripped it again when she moaned for more. “You’re perfect. Keep going. I want to feel you come on me like this.”

She ground down, desperate, chasing it, and when it hit she cried out and shook, inner walls fluttering around him. He held her through it, thrusting shallow and steady, murmuring that she was gorgeous, that he wasn’t done, that he needed her again. She was still trembling when he eased her forward.

“Door,” he said. “I want you against the door.”

She nodded, breathless, yes, yes. They opened the back door on the tree side, the night air cool on sweat-damp skin, and she braced her hands on the seat edge with one foot on the ground and the other knee on the leather, ass tipped up. Nathaniel stood behind her in the open door, one hand on her hip, and slid back into her in a single deep stroke. Doggy like this was raw and close and perfect. He fucked her hard, the car shifting with each thrust, his hips snapping against her ass. She pushed back to meet him, moaning openly, not caring if the trees heard.

“Wanted you,” he said, bent over her back, mouth at her shoulder. “All night. Every night I’ve seen you in something that showed your legs. Tell me you want this.”

“I want you,” she said, voice breaking. “I want you to fuck me all night. I want your cock. I want you to keep me in this car until I can’t walk. Don’t you dare stop.”

He didn’t. He reached around and rubbed her clit in tight circles while he drove into her, and she came a third time with a sob, legs shaking, and he followed her over with a rough groan, buried deep, pulsing inside the condom, his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades. They stayed like that, panting, the door open to the cold, his arm banded around her waist so she wouldn’t fold.

When they could move, he disposed of the condom, shut the door, and pulled her into the back seat again with the blanket he kept in the trunk for emergencies. She laughed, soft and wrecked, when he tucked it around her shoulders. “Prepared.”

“Hoped,” he said. “Not for this. For you being cold on the way home. But I’ll take the luck.”

Dawn was a gray suggestion at the edge of the fields when he laid them on their sides, her back to his chest, a fresh condom on because neither of them was finished. He kissed the nape of her neck, her shoulder, the knob of her spine, slow and tender now, every inch he could reach. She guided him in and he sank into her from behind, spooned tight, one arm under her head and the other hand splayed low on her belly. He moved in long, unhurried strokes, rocking more than thrusting, kissing her wherever his mouth could land.

“I love the way you feel,” he murmured. “I love how you sound. Stay with me like this.”

“I’m here.” She reached back and held his hip, pulling him deeper. The pleasure built differently this time, warm and vast instead of sharp. His fingers found her clit and circled gently, matching the roll of his hips. She turned her face and he kissed her, clumsy and sweet over her shoulder. “Nathaniel. I’m close.”

“Me too. Together.”

They crested that way, her clenching around him while he throbbed inside her, both of them gasping into the same breath, his arm locked around her like he meant to keep her. After, he didn’t pull out right away. He kissed her shoulder, her jaw, the corner of her mouth, and wrapped her tighter in the blanket and his body.

“This isn’t a one-time thing,” he said quietly. “Not for me. I want secret nights. I want to pick you up and drive until there’s no one around and love you in this car, or in my bed, or wherever you’ll have me. If you want that.”

“I want that,” she said, and meant it. She laced her fingers through his on her stomach. Outside, the sky was paling. He thought the secret was only the nights they would steal. She let him believe it for now, warm and spent against his chest, and did not tell him that she had already cleared her weekend and packed a bag in his hallway closet two days ago, waiting for the moment he asked her to stay.