He fucks my stepsister when the house is emptya

In the quiet of a late afternoon, the house lies still as the man slips down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. His stepsister leans against the kitchen counter, her fingers tracing the rim of a half-empty glass, her lips parted with a slow exhale. The tension between them has been building for weeks, a silent charge that crackles whenever their hands brush or their eyes meet by accident. Now, with the others gone, there’s nothing left to stop him. He steps behind her, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her back against him as his mouth finds the curve of her neck. She arches into him, a soft moan escaping her throat as his fingers work at the buttons of her blouse, one by one. The kitchen counter is cold against her skin, but his touch is fire.