They were still fucking.
Lina clung to him, sobbing his name between gasps, her legs shaking around his waist as David drove into her, relentless and unbothered by the world around them.
And I was frozen on the stairs—barely breathing, dripping into my underwear, thighs trembling from how soaked I was. I didn't care if the fabric stained. I didn't care if I fell to the floor.
Because in my mind, he was behind me now.
Not Lina. Me.
David.
His body pressed tight to my back. One hand gripping my hip, the other under my blouse, fingers wrapped around my breasts—tight, claiming. He breathed against my neck, hot and brutal, and I could hear him in my ear.
"Look at you," he growled. "My fucktoy in silk."
I whimpered.
"You like watching, don't you? You like seeing what you'll never have."
I nodded—in my mind. "Yes," I whispered. "I love it."
His hand moved between my legs. "You're soaked."
"I can't help it."
"Don't. You're mine now. Say it."
"I'm yours," I breathed, lips parting as I gripped the railing with both hands. "I'm your toy."
He slammed into me, imagined, imagined, but God, it felt real.
"My fucking toy. I use you. I spit in your mouth. I choke you out while you thank me."
"Yes. Yes."
"You think she screams? I'll make you sob."
"I want that. I want it so bad."
He leaned into my ear, growling filth against my skin.
"I'll break you in half on this couch, and when I'm done with you, you'll beg me to ruin you again."
My body spasmed. My legs nearly gave out.
I closed my eyes tightly, my breath quickening as the vivid images flooded my mind. I could almost feel David's large, hard cock throbbing urgently against my asscheeks, hot and insistent, a tangible reminder of the forbidden desire I craved.
In my imagination, his muscular hands tightened around my breasts, gripping them possessively, pressing and squeezing until a sharp ache blossomed into delicious pain. My body responded immediately, a flush of heat cascading through me.
His tongue teased the sensitive skin inside my ear, his warm breath sending shivers racing down my spine. He traced a hot, wet path down my neck, igniting sparks of intense pleasure and anticipation. Suddenly, his hand moved up, seizing my throat firmly, commanding my attention. He tilted my face toward him, claiming my lips in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue invading my mouth, tasting me, dominating me.
"You want this, don't you?" he growled against my lips. "You want me to use you like the filthy little toy you are."
"Yes," I whimpered, my voice broken and breathless. "Please... please, David."
His voice dropped to a snarl. "Say it. Say who owns this tight, wet pussy."
"You do," I gasped, trembling. "You own me. All of me."
David's strong hand slid downward with urgent need, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties without hesitation. His fingers plunged inside me roughly, deeply, moving with powerful strokes that stole my breath and shattered my composure.
"So fucking wet for me already," he muttered against my ear. "Dripping. You're such a mess. I could ruin you every night and you'd still crawl back, begging for more."
I arched my back, pressing myself shamelessly against him, my hips rocking desperately to meet his thrusting fingers. Pleasure built swiftly, fiercely, overwhelming my senses until I could no longer hold back.
"Come for me, slut," he snarled. "I want to feel you break."
I cried out as a fierce orgasm tore through me, waves of intense pleasure leaving me trembling and breathless, completely undone by the raw intensity of his imagined voice, his grip, his absolute control.
I screamed. Yes, I did...
Not in pain. Not in fear. It was pure, desperate lust—ripped from my throat as I came, my fingers buried deep, legs trembling, breath catching somewhere between a sob and a moan.
And then it was quiet.
Only my heartbeat remained, pounding violently in my ears. My chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, sweat beading down my neck. My hand was still in my pants, soaked, fingers twitching slightly as the last of the tremors rolled through me. My thighs pressed together instinctively, locking in the heat, the mess, the shame.
I was standing now. Somewhere between the stair rail and the wall, my body limp, robe falling halfway open, clinging to my damp skin.
And I saw them.
Lina was staring up at me, mouth parted in disbelief, her bare chest rising beneath David as if she'd forgotten how to breathe. David wasn't moving either—still inside her, frozen mid-thrust, like the very sight of me had stopped time.
They had heard me.
They had seen me.
Me—standing there with my hand still inside my pants, wet, panting, my thighs clenched together like I was holding myself in place.
And I didn't flinch.
I didn't hide.
I just stared at them. My eyes half-lidded. Distant. Hollow. Like I wasn't even inside myself anymore. Like something in me had cracked open and spilled out on the stairs.
I was still breathing hard. My legs ached. My fingers were sticky. And I didn't care.
They looked at me like I was filth. Like I was disgusting.
I watched you fuck. I watched you cum. And I made myself cum to it.
And I knew they could see it all. I let them.
I wanted them to.
Because after all, I deserve to be hated even by my own little sister.
Because I am disgusting.
I am filthy.
I am an inexcusable whore.
I wanted them to see this, because if it kept on going, this obsession would never stop by itself.
Someone had to stop me from my self.
I am broken.
I have nowhere to go.
No man waiting for me in a cozy home.
Not a good night's kiss on my lips that long for passion.
I am alone.
And now, I am more alone than I have ever been in my whole pitiful life.