The Miami skyline glittered like a diamond-encrusted middle finger, its neon veins pulsing against the black velvet sky. In the heart of Star Island, Kael Donovan's seafront mansion loomed—glass walls, white marble, and a fortune's worth of fuck-you money. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of bourbon, leather, and something far more dangerous: temptation. Kathryn, Kael's wife, had jetted off to New York for a month-long business trip, leaving her husband alone. But not for long. Zara Kane, her 27-year-old sister, had other plans.
Zara strutted through the front door like she owned the place, a bottle of Jack Daniel's swinging in one hand, her gold heels clicking on the polished floor. Her black mini dress clung to her like a second skin, the hem barely covering her ass, her E-cup tits straining against the low-cut neckline. Her nipples, hard as bullets, poked through the thin fabric, a snake tattoo curling around her collarbone like a warning. Blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her green eyes burned with a reckless hunger. She wasn't here to play nice.
"Kael, you home?" she called, her voice a sultry taunt, dripping with intent. She kicked off her heels, bare feet padding toward the living room, where the infinity pool glowed turquoise beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Kael stood by the bar, pouring himself a whiskey, his broad shoulders tense under a fitted black tee. At 36, he was a slab of carved muscle—brown hair cropped short, green eyes sharp as knives, a jawline that could cut glass. His jeans hung low, the bulge of his cock already hinting at trouble. He'd been fighting the thoughts creeping in ever since Kathryn left. Zara. Her laugh. Her body. The way she looked at him like she could burn the world down and he'd hand her the match.
"Zara," he said, voice low, rough. "What the hell are you doing here?"
She smirked, sauntering closer, hips swaying like a predator on the prowl. "What, I can't visit my favorite brother-in-law?" She set the bottle down, leaning against the bar, her tits inches from his chest. Her perfume—vanilla and sin—hit him like a drug. "Kathryn's gone. House feels empty, doesn't it?"
Kael's grip tightened on his glass, knuckles whitening. "You shouldn't be here. Not like this."
"Like what?" Zara tilted her head, lips parting, a challenge in her eyes. She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm, trailing down to his wrist. "Like I know you've been staring at my ass every family dinner? Like I know you're hard right now?"
"Zara, stop." His voice cracked, but his cock betrayed him, swelling against his jeans, the thick outline impossible to hide. She was right, and he hated it. Hated how her presence twisted his insides, how her defiance made his blood roar.
She stepped closer, her breath hot against his neck. "Stop what? Telling the truth? Or this?" Her hand slid down, palming his cock through the denim, her fingers curling around the throbbing length. Kael groaned, his resolve crumbling like sand. Her touch was electric, stroking him slow, deliberate, the fabric dampening where pre-cum leaked from his tip.
"Fuck, Zara," he growled, grabbing her wrist, but he didn't pull her away. His other hand found her hip, fingers digging into her flesh. "You're playing with fire."
"Then burn me," she whispered, lips brushing his ear. She squeezed his cock harder, thumb circling the swollen head through his jeans. "Or are you too chickenshit to take what you want?"
That did it. Kael snapped, his restraint shattering like glass. He yanked her against him, crashing his mouth onto hers, their tongues clashing in a messy, desperate kiss. Teeth grazed lips, hands roamed, and the room spun with raw need. Zara moaned into his mouth, her nails raking his back, leaving red trails under his shirt. She tasted like whiskey and rebellion, and he was fucking drowning in it.
He shoved her against the bar, her ass hitting the edge, bottles rattling. His hands tore at her dress, ripping the straps down, freeing her tits. They bounced, full and heavy, her nipples pink and rock-hard, begging for his mouth. He sucked one, hard, tongue flicking the sensitive bud, while his fingers pinched the other, twisting just enough to make her gasp. Zara's head fell back, her moan echoing off the glass walls.
"God, Kael, yes," she panted, her hands fumbling with his belt, yanking it open. His jeans hit the floor, and his cock sprang free—long, thick, veins bulging, the purple head slick with pre-cum. Her eyes widened, a hungry grin spreading across her face. "Fuck, you're huge."
She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, stroking slow, her thumb smearing the sticky fluid over his tip. Kael groaned, his balls tightening, heavy and hot in her palm. She pumped him harder, her grip tight, nails grazing his sensitive skin. "You've been hiding this from me, you bastard," she teased, licking her lips.
Kael grabbed her thighs, hoisting her onto the bar, spreading her legs wide. Her dress bunched at her waist, revealing a black lace thong, the fabric soaked through, clinging to her pussy. He ripped it off, tossing the scraps aside, exposing her completely. Her pussy was a fucking masterpiece—pink, glistening, her lips swollen and parted, her clit a hard little pearl begging for attention. A trickle of her juices ran down to her tight asshole, winking under the neon glow.
"Jesus, Zara," he rasped, his cock twitching at the sight. He dropped to his knees, burying his face between her thighs, his tongue diving into her folds. She tasted like salt and honey, her pussy so wet it coated his chin. He lapped at her clit, sucking hard, then flicked his tongue lower, teasing her asshole, feeling it clench under his touch. Zara's hands gripped his hair, pulling him closer, her hips bucking against his mouth.
"Fuck, Kael, don't stop!" she screamed, her pussy spasming, juices flooding his tongue. He slid two fingers into her cunt, her walls tight and pulsing, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside. Her moans turned to cries, her body shaking as he finger-fucked her, his tongue relentless on her clit.
She came hard, her pussy clenching his fingers, squirting a hot stream that dripped down his wrist. "Oh, God, yes!" she gasped, her tits heaving, eyes wild. Kael stood, his cock aching, pre-cum dripping onto the floor. He grabbed her hips, pulling her to the edge of the bar, lining his cock up with her dripping pussy.
"You want this?" he growled, rubbing his thick head against her clit, teasing her entrance. Her juices coated him, slick and warm.
"Fuck me, Kael," she begged, her voice raw. "Now."
He thrust in, hard, his cock stretching her tight pussy, filling her to the hilt. Zara screamed, her nails digging into his shoulders, her walls gripping him like a vice. He pounded her, relentless, his balls slapping her ass, each thrust driving deeper, hitting her cervix. The bar shook, bottles crashing to the floor, but neither cared. This was war—against guilt, against rules, against everything but them.
"Harder!" Zara demanded, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him in. Her pussy was a furnace, wet and pulsing, her clit grinding against his pelvis with every thrust. Kael grabbed her ass, his fingers brushing her asshole, teasing the tight ring. She moaned louder, her body trembling, another orgasm building.
His phone buzzed on the bar, Kathryn's name flashing on the screen. FaceTime. Shit. Kael froze, his cock buried deep in Zara's pussy, her walls still clenching him. "Don't you dare stop," Zara hissed, grabbing the phone and tossing it across the room. It landed on the couch, the call connecting, Kathryn's face appearing, oblivious.
"Kael? You there?" Kathryn's voice crackled, her image grainy.
Zara grinned, wicked, and rolled her hips, fucking herself on Kael's cock. "Keep going," she whispered, her voice a dare. Kael's heart pounded, guilt clawing at him, but his cock had other ideas. He thrust again, slower, deeper, watching Zara's tits bounce, her pussy soaking him. Kathryn droned on about her meeting, unaware her sister was getting railed ten feet away.
"Fuck, you're bad," Kael muttered, his voice thick, slamming into her harder. Zara's moans grew louder, reckless, daring Kathryn to hear. Her pussy spasmed, another climax hitting, her juices squirting around his cock, dripping onto the bar. Kael groaned, his balls tightening, the pressure unbearable.
"Cum in me," Zara demanded, her eyes locked on his. "Fuck your wife's sister."
That broke him. Kael roared, his cock erupting, hot cum flooding her pussy, pulse after pulse, spilling out around his shaft. Zara's pussy milked him, her orgasm syncing with his, her screams drowning out Kathryn's voice. They collapsed, panting, sweat-soaked, cum and juices pooling beneath them.
The phone was still on. Kathryn was still talking, oblivious. Zara laughed, low and wicked, sliding off the bar, cum dripping down her thighs. "That was just the start," she said, grabbing the whiskey bottle and taking a swig. "You're mine now, Kael."
Kael's chest heaved, guilt and desire tearing him apart. He knew this was wrong. He knew it would destroy everything. But as Zara strutted toward the pool, her ass swaying, her pussy still glistening, he also knew he didn't give a fuck. The spark was lit, and Miami was about to burn.
Across town, Jack Riley sat in his condo, scrolling through his phone, a grainy photo of Zara and Kael at the mansion gate timestamped an hour ago. His jaw clenched, jealousy twisting his gut. "You're fucked, Kane," he muttered, sending the photo to an unknown number. The game was on.