Page 6 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

I begin to stroke him, and he responds by pushing his pants down, freeing himself. His hands find the back of my head, passionate in a way I've never experienced from him before. He guides me, positions me above him, and I can feel him pulsing beneath me. His hands explore my body, fingers tracing the delicate lace covering me. He sits up suddenly, his mouth finding my breast through the fabric, tongue circling each nipple until I'm grinding against him involuntarily, seeking friction and release.

When his fingers find their way between my legs, I can't contain the moan that escapes me. He captures it with his mouth, urging me on, asking for more without words. I oblige, the sound tearing from somewhere deep inside me as he pushes the lingerie aside and positions himself. I pass him the condom and he puts it on.

Everything is happening so fast, yet it feels like we've been building to this moment for weeks. I'm trembling with eagerness, with the thrill of finally, finally crossing this threshold.

But he's bigger than I anticipated, the angle is awkward. What seemed so simple in my fantasies becomes a delicate negotiation of bodies in reality. He takes control, flipping me onto my back and pushing my lingerie aside once more. There's an urgency to his movements that's surprising but thrilling.

He pushes against me, entering slowly, and begins to moan as soon as he's an inch inside. I grip his muscular arms, anchoring myself as he continues carefully. He's larger than I expected, filling me completely, stretching me to the edge of pleasure and pain.

I cry out when he's fully seated within me, the sensation unlike anything I've experienced before. The pleasure is transcendent, beyond what my imagination could ever conjure.

When he begins to move, my body responds instinctively, clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

"You're so tight," he groans, the words rumbling through his chest.

His praise washes over me like warm honey. My head falls back as I match his rhythm, our bodies finding a perfect synchronicity. I swear it makes me wetter, and suddenly he’s thrusting inside me easily. In the shadow, I catch glimpses of his abdomen, the defined muscles shifting with each thrust. I pull his face down to mine, needing to feel connected, to make this about more than just bodies.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his concern unexpected and touching.

I nod, keeping him close. This is what I wanted—not just the physical release but this intimacy, this profound connection between us. Is this what love feels like? This ache that feels complete now that we’re actually in the act.

The combination of his hips, lips, fingers working me up—sends me spiraling toward the edge. My body surrenders to pure sensation, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

"Please," I moan, clutching his shoulders, desperate for something I can't name.

He leans down and kisses me.

My body responds with a rush of heat. I moan as his thrusts become more forceful, more deliberate.

I cry out, holding him tighter, wanting to witness the moment of his release. It feels so fucking good.

"Cade," I murmur. "Oh, fuck."

"Cade?" he questions, his voice suddenly unfamiliar, and ice water floods my veins at the repeat of my boyfriend’s name.

He reaches for his phone without withdrawing from me, turning on the flashlight. He's still moving inside me, still sending waves of pleasure through my body even as dread begins to pool in my stomach.

"Who are you?" he asks, continuing to thrust against me.

The shockwaves send pleasure ripping through me, but if this isn’t Cade…

I push up onto my elbows, caught in the surreal space between ecstasy and horror. He’s still meeting my hips with his and it feels too damn good.

If this isn't Cade, then who am I having sex with right now in my boyfriend's bed?

I try to grab his phone, but he holds it away from me, the bright light disorienting in the darkness.

"Who are you?" I demand, my voice betraying me with involuntary moans. My body is still singing with pleasure, begging for completion even as my mind spirals into panic. "I'm Cade's girlfriend."

I hear a sharp exhale and then feel him begin to pulse inside me. "Shit," he says. "Oh, fuck," he groans as he withdraws. He pulls the condom off and then his release shoots onto my stomach. "Fuck! I'm sorry."

I watch in bizarre fascination as the come spits out of his beautiful dick, his body shuddering above me. My own body throbs with unfulfilled need, even as terror rises in my throat. I make another grab for the phone, but he pulls it away, redirecting the light toward the ceiling.

And finally, I see his face.

A stranger. A complete stranger with Cade's eyes but sharper features, harder edges. I might be imagining that though. My entire body goes cold despite the warmth of semen on my skin.

"Where's Cade?" I ask, my voice small and shaking. I feel the threat of tears building behind my eyes, a pressure that's about to break.

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