Weak 7
Blair came home looking like she'd just walked off the set of a war crime disguised as a porn shoot.
Her platinum hair was mussed in that deliberate, just-fucked way, but the set of her jaw and the storm in her ice-blue eyes said the day had gone sideways. She kicked off her six-inch Louboutins in the foyer with enough force to make them clatter against the wall, then stormed straight to the kitchen. Leo heard the fridge open, the clink of the wine bottle, the glug-glug-glug of two massive pours into a single glass. She downed the first like it was water, poured another, and carried it into the living room.
Leo was sprawled on the sectional in nothing but basketball shorts and a faded hoodie, half-watching a documentary about the fall of the Roman Empire on the big screen. He didn't even register her at first—until the couch dipped hard beside him and her thigh pressed flush against his.
"God, men are fucking idiots sometimes," she slurred, the wine already loosening her tongue. She tipped sideways and rested her head on his shoulder, silky hair spilling across his chest like cool water. Her perfume hit him full-force—jasmine, amber, and the unmistakable salty-musk undertone of pussy that hadn't been showered off yet. She smelled like sex and rage in equal measure.
Leo swallowed. "Some, yeah."
She lifted her head just enough to look at him, pupils blown wide from wine and leftover adrenaline. "You're not an idiot, are you, Leo?" Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. Her fingers started tracing lazy circles on his forearm, nails dragging lightly over the skin. "You wouldn't leave a girl hanging, would you? Wouldn't be… unprofessional?"
His breath hitched. "I try not to be."
She chuckled—low, throaty, filthy. "Good boy." Her hand drifted lower, sliding over his bicep, then down to his ribs, then lower still. When her fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, inches from the rapidly thickening bulge in his shorts, Leo's entire body jolted like he'd been tased.
He knew exactly what she was doing. He'd jerked off to enough of her scenes—Blair "Velvet" Voss riding reverse-cowgirl while staring straight into the lens, Blair on her knees with spit dripping down her chin, Blair getting railed in every hole until she squirted across the room—to recognize the prelude. The slow build. The teasing touches. The moment the co-star finally snaps and grabs her.
His brain screamed: She's your fucking step-sister. Your dad's wife's daughter. This is wrong.
His cock screamed louder: YES. YES. FUCK YES. TAKE HER. RUIN HER.
"Blair—" he started, voice already wrecked.
She didn't let him finish.
She surged forward and crushed her mouth to his.
The kiss started soft—wine-sweet lips brushing his, testing, teasing—but Blair didn't do soft for long. Her tongue pushed past his teeth, hungry and demanding, tasting like Pinot and sin. Leo groaned into her mouth, hands instinctively flying to her waist. She tasted like trouble and he was already drowning in it.
Minutes later they were stumbling down the hallway, mouths never separating. Blair's hands were everywhere—yanking his hoodie over his head, shoving his shorts down so his cock sprang free, thick and leaking. Leo fumbled with the zipper of her dress until it pooled at her feet, revealing nothing underneath but smooth golden skin, pierced nipples already hard as diamonds, and a pussy so swollen and glossy it looked freshly used.
"Fuck," he breathed, staring.
She smirked, grabbed his wrist, and dragged him into her bedroom.
The door slammed. The air was thick with her scent—jasmine, sex, the faint tang of cum from whatever co-star had pissed her off earlier. Blair shoved him backward onto the king-sized bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. She climbed on top, straddling his hips, wet pussy lips sliding along the underside of his shaft without letting him inside yet.
"Relax, baby brother," she purred, grinding slow and deliberate, coating his cock in her slick. "I'll take care of you. I'll take such good care of this fat dick."
Leo's hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. "Blair—fuck—"
She leaned down, nipples dragging across his chest, and bit his lower lip. "Say my name again when you're balls-deep in my cunt."
She reached between them, lined him up, and sank down in one long, slow, obscene slide.
They both groaned—loud, broken, animal sounds.
Her pussy was molten velvet, so tight and wet it felt like she was sucking him in. She bottomed out with a wet smack, clit grinding against his pelvis, and threw her head back with a throaty moan that vibrated through both of them.
"Fuuuuck yes," she hissed. "That's it. Fill me up, Leo. Stretch my slutty little pussy."
She started riding him—slow at first, rolling her hips in filthy circles, letting him feel every inch of her walls gripping him like a fist. Then faster. Harder. The bedsprings—already ancient and overworked from years of Sasha and Blair's escapades—began to scream in protest. Creak-creak-creak turned into thump-thump-thump as she slammed down on him, ass cheeks clapping against his thighs.
Leo was losing his mind.
He grabbed handfuls of her perfect ass, spreading her wide, watching his cock disappear into her dripping cunt over and over. Her juices ran down his balls, soaked the sheets. Every time she bottomed out, her clit dragged against him and she let out a sharp, needy cry.
"Harder—fuck me harder—pound my pussy, Leo—make me fucking scream—"
He thrust up to meet her, slamming into her so deep he felt her cervix kiss the head of his cock. She wailed—high and shattered—nails raking down his chest, leaving red trails.
The bedframe rattled. Wood groaned. Something cracked.
Blair didn't stop.
She leaned forward, tits bouncing in his face, and rode him like she was trying to break him in half. "You like that? You like fucking your big sister's sloppy wet cunt? You gonna cum in me? Fill me up like the dirty little brother you are?"
Leo's balls tightened. Heat coiled vicious and unstoppable.
"Blair—fuck—I'm gonna—"
"Do it," she snarled, grinding down hard. "Cum in my pussy. Breed me. Fucking breed your step-sister—"
He roared her name—raw, guttural—as he exploded.
Thick ropes of cum blasted deep inside her, pulse after pulse, flooding her until it leaked out around his shaft in creamy white rivulets. Blair's own orgasm hit at the same moment—her cunt clamped down like a vice, milking him dry while she screamed, body shaking, squirting hard enough to soak his stomach and the sheets beneath them.
At the peak of it, the bed gave a final, catastrophic SNAP.
One of the slats cracked clean in half. The mattress dropped six inches on the left side with a thunderous thud. They both froze—still joined, still pulsing—for one stunned heartbeat.
Then Blair burst out laughing—wild, breathless, filthy.
"Oops," she giggled, clenching around his still-hard cock. "Guess we broke it."
Leo panted beneath her, dazed, covered in sweat and her squirt and his own cum. "We… we actually broke the fucking bed."
She leaned down, kissed him slow and dirty, tongue sliding against his. "Worth it," she whispered against his lips. "And we're not done yet."
She rolled her hips again—slow, teasing—making him groan as fresh arousal leaked around his oversensitive cock.
The broken bed creaked ominously beneath them.
Blair grinned like the devil herself.
"Round two, baby brother. Let's see if we can finish breaking the rest of it."