Steve Stumbles on a Family Secret
Copyright© 2025 by Zathronas
Chapter 29 - The Subterfuge
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 29 - The Subterfuge - Steve decision to come home one day early from college will change his life. He first stumble on a family secret, then learns this secret has international ramifications. Is ignorance bliss? or if he plays his cards right and embrace his legacy, he may well becomes one of the most powerful man in the world.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/Fa ft/ft Fa/ft Coercion Consensual Reluctant Fiction Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Father Daughter Cousins Niece Aunt Nephew Grand Parent MaleDom Rough Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Double Penetration First Fisting Lactation Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Sex Toys Squirting Tit-Fucking Voyeurism Big Breasts Hairy Size Small Breasts Teacher/Student AI Generated
The decisive handshake across the table solidified the pact, a crackle of energy passing between them. Steve sat back, the plush leather of the booth sighing beneath him. Heather watched, a queen observing her prince take his first true command, her enormous chest rising with a soft, proud breath that strained the silk of her blouse. Matthew’s gray eyes, sharp and assessing, never left Steve’s face.
“Great! Welcome aboard!” Steve said, a new confidence threading through his voice. “I already have a couple of tasks for you before our next meeting. By then, I should have the team completed.”
Matthew leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Who will be on the team?”
“We need a social media expert, I already have a clan historian in mind, a computer and hacker expert. Finally, a journalist would be great, too. All clan, of course.”
Matthew nodded slowly, the gears visibly turning in his head. “You need one more, I think. A lawyer well-versed in international law would be indispensable. They can help you navigate through what is legal and what isn’t across different jurisdictions.”
Steve’s brow furrowed as he considered the suggestion, his mind racing through the implications. “We might have to break some laws to succeed here,” he conceded, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “By the end, no one but the inner circle should know the truth.”
“You may not have to,” Matthew countered smoothly, a sly smile playing on his lips. “A lawyer capable of navigating the legal labyrinths might find loopholes we can exploit. Legal loopholes. You need to prepare for every eventuality, Steve ... including the possibility of getting caught.” He let the weight of that statement hang in the air for a moment before adding, “A good lawyer isn’t just a shield; they’re a weapon. We find the right one, and they can help us write the rules in our favor.”
Heather’s low, throaty chuckle drew both their attentions. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, the simple movement a study in sensual grace. “Matthew’s right, darling. You’re thinking like a revolutionary, which is exciting, but a true dynasty is built on a foundation of law as much as it is on passion. We’ve survived this long because we’re meticulous.” Her green eyes, so much like his own, held his gaze. “We find a legal mind from the group. Someone who understands our ... unique needs. They will be the final piece.”
The conversation shifted into a rapid-fire exchange of names, connections, and clan lineages that Steve was still learning. Heather and Matthew volleyed potential candidates back and forth with the ease of seasoned strategists, their shared history a tangible force in the booth. Steve listened, absorbing it all, feeling the immense power of the network he now found himself at the center of.
Steve let them debate potential candidates, the names and connections flying back and forth across the table like pieces in a high-stakes chess game. The conversation was intense, each suggestion weighed carefully, but when the food arrived, an unspoken agreement settled over them. The talk shifted to more mundane topics—the weather, the latest news, the quality of the wine—as they began to eat.
The meal was nothing short of sublime, each bite a symphony of flavors that danced on his tongue. Steve couldn’t recall ever eating this well in his entire life. As he savored a particularly exquisite shrimp tartare in a lemon-saffron emulsion, he made a mental note to resume his daily swimming laps when he returned home. Otherwise, he thought with a smirk, I’ll balloon up from all this rich food.
When the plates were cleared and coffee was brought out, the air shifted once more. The clink of cups and saucers mingled with the soft murmur of the restaurant as they settled back into their booth. Matthew leaned forward, his gray eyes sharp with curiosity.
“So,” he began, his tone casual but laced with intent, “what are the tasks you want me to do?”
Steve leaned forward, his fingers tracing the edge of his cup as he turned to Matthew and then to Heather. “First, we need a roadmap,” he began, his voice low but deliberate, each word measured. “What are the steps we need to take to reach our goal? We can’t just dive in blindly and your experience is crucial here.”
He paused, his eyes shifting to his grandmother, who slid a thick folder across the table toward him. The leather-bound file was heavy, its contents dense with information on the leaders of the interventionist. “I need a detailed report on their comings and goings—every move, every pattern.”
Matthew nodded, his gray eyes narrowing as he absorbed Steve’s words.”We need to anticipate their next moves. Predictability is a vulnerability, and we need to exploit it.”
Heather’s hand rested lightly on Steve’s arm, her touch both grounding and commanding. “And don’t forget their connections,” she added, her voice silken yet firm. “Their allies, their enemies—those are just as important as their routines.
Matthew nodded, his expression serious but approving. “Consider it done.”
“Good,” Steve continued, leaning in slightly, his voice carrying a measured intensity. “This isn’t an immediate concern, but we’ll need to establish a buffer of people between us and the work we’ll be doing. They must be independent from each other—completely isolated—and contacted without exposing ourselves when the time comes. Think about how to approach them discreetly. This should be included within your first task.”
Steve slid a check across the table, the crisp paper catching the dim light of the restaurant. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. His grandmother had handed it to him earlier, her eyes sharp with purpose. “Use this to get started,” he said, locking eyes with Matthew. “And if you need more, contact me immediately. No delays, no questions.”
Matthew took the check, his expression unreadable but his gray eyes glinting with approval. He nodded once, before pocketing the check.
They emerged from the restaurant, the crisp night air wrapping around them like a cool embrace. Heather and Steve stepped into the waiting limousine, the soft hum of the engine purring beneath them as the city lights blurred past the tinted windows.
“What do you think? You were quiet back there,” Steve asked, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity as he settled into the plush leather seat beside her.
Heather turned to him, her lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. “It was your show, darling,” she said, her voice sultry and measured. “I wanted to make sure Matthew understood that you were in charge. And from the look on his face, I’d say he was impressed.”
Her hand drifted toward his, her fingers brushing against his palm with deliberate intent. Then, without hesitation, she hiked up her dress, revealing the smooth, bare skin of her thigh—and nothing else. No panties. She guided his hand to her pussy, her heat pressing against his palm in a bold, unspoken invitation.
“You taking control like you did...” she murmured, her breath hitching slightly as his fingers instinctively brushed against her slick folds. “It turned me on something fierce.”
Heather leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “You’re becoming quite the leader, Steve. And I couldn’t be prouder ... or hungrier.”
The limo glided through the city streets, but inside, time seemed to slow. Heather’s confidence and sensuality filled the space, her every movement deliberate and intoxicating. Steve’s mind raced, torn between the weight of their earlier conversation and the intoxicating sensation of her body under his touch.
Heather leaned in abruptly, her lips crashing into Steve’s with a hunger that caught him off guard. Before he could react, her tongue darted into his mouth, teasing and exploring with a fervor that sent a jolt of electricity through him. Steve’s hand, still resting on her thigh, responded instinctively as he lazily traced a finger up and down her slick slit, the warmth and wetness of her making his pulse quicken.
She pulled back slightly, her green eyes gleaming with mischief and desire, a sly smile playing on her swollen lips. “We’ll talk more about this later,” she purred, her voice low and teasing as she settled back into her seat, leaving Steve exhilarated.
The limo pulled up to the hotel, its sleek black exterior glinting under the city lights. Steve stepped out first, his body thrumming with pent-up energy, the air between him and Heather crackling with unspoken desire. He offered her his hand as she emerged, her silk dress whispering against her thighs, the slit revealing a tantalizing glimpse of bare skin. His fingertips brushed hers, and for a fleeting moment, he imagined gripping her, pulling her close, and claiming her mouth right there in the open. But he restrained himself, his jaw tightening as they moved through the lobby, the click of her heels echoing in the marble-floored expanse.
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside, the small space amplifying the tension. Steve’s eyes flicked to the discreet security camera in the corner, a silent reminder that they weren’t alone. Heather leaned against the wall, her gaze heavy-lidded, her lips parted just enough to make his pulse spike. His hands itched to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers, but he clenched them into fists, forcing himself to wait.
The moment they crossed the threshold of the penthouse, Steve’s restraint shattered. He spun Heather around, pressing her back against the wall, his hands quickly finding their way to her breasts. They were soft and full under his palms, and he squeezed lightly, eliciting a low moan from her that went straight to his groin. Her nipples hardened under his touch, and he pinched them teasingly, his breath coming faster as she arched into him.
As he moved her toward the couch, Steve’s foot caught on something—a piece of paper lying discarded on the floor. He stumbled slightly, catching himself before he lost his balance. Annoyed, he bent to pick it up, intending to toss it aside, but the faint scrawl on the surface caught his eye: “You are being watched. You are being listened.”
His blood turned to ice. The words seemed to leap off the page, their meaning sinking in like a knife. He froze, his grip on Heather loosening as his mind raced. She turned to face him, her expression shifting from lust to confusion when she saw the look on his face. Before she could speak, he pressed a hand over her mouth, silencing her. With his other hand, he thrust the paper toward her, his heart pounding in his chest.