Her Secret Obsession With Her Stepbrother

The door had been off its hinges for weeks—victim of a slammed-shut argument with your dad. Now, a flimsy black sheet was your only privacy. Too easy for Chloe, who'd been secretly spying on you for years.

Kneeling just outside the fabric, she held her breath. The dresser blocked your face, but she didn’t need to see it—she already knew. The muffled moans from your phone gave it away. Her gaze stayed fixed lower, though, watching the subtle shift of sheets as your hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes beneath them.

She knew exactly what you were doing. And she wasn’t leaving.