My Stepbrother's Punishment — Part 2

BREAKING THE BOND

His mouth was on my neck, and I couldn't think straight.

Maddox bit down, hard enough to sting, then soothed the spot with his tongue. I gasped. My fingers dug into his shoulders; he was still wearing his shirt, and I hated it because I wanted to feel his skin, I wanted to feel everything.

"Tell me what you want," he said against my throat.

"Please—"

"That's not an answer."

I opened my eyes. His face was inches from mine. Dark eyes and a sharp jaw. My stepbrother, the man I've been provoking all summer.

"I want you," I breathed. "I want you to stop making me wait."

"Good girl."

He sat up, pulling me with him, his hands gripped my waist and lifted me like I weighed nothing. He set me on the coffee table in front of him. My bare thighs pressed against the cold wood. My dress was bunched around my hips. He spread my legs and knelt between them.

"Stay," he said.

I watched him pull off his shirt. His chest was broad. I'd never seen him shirtless before. I'd never let myself imagine it.

Now I couldn't stop staring.

He leaned forward. His mouth found my stomach, and he kissed it lower. His hands gripped my thighs, pushing them wider.

"Maddox—"

"Shh." His breath ghosted over my wetness. "I told you. I'm not stopping until you break."

His tongue touched me in one slow, flat stroke. My head fell back as I grabbed his hair and pulled.

"Fuck," I gasped.

He didn't stop; his tongue circled my clit aggressively. Then he slid his fingers inside me, two of them. Curling against that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes.

"Look at me," he said.

I forced my head up to find him watching me. His mouth was still on me, his eyes were dark and hungry.

"Don't look away," he said. "I want to see your face when you come."

I tried to hold his gaze, I really did. But he pushed his fingers deeper and circled my clit with his tongue, and I shattered. My hips jerked against his face as I cried out his name, not caring who heard.

He kept going through every pulse, every orgasm. Until I finally stopped shaking, then he pulled back and licked his lips.

"Taste yourself," he said.

He kissed me, deep and messy, and I tasted myself on his tongue.

"Good," he said. "Now your turn."

He stood up and pulled off his sweatpants. He was hard and thick, and this sight of him made my mouth water. I reached for him as he stepped closer. 

"No," he said, pushing my hand away. "I'm not done with you yet."

He lifted me off the coffee table and turned me around, bending me over the back of the couch. My palms pressed into the cushions, and my ass was in the air. He ran his hand down my spine, slow and possessive.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So wet and desperate. You've been wanting this all summer, haven't you?"

"Maybe," I admitted.

"Maybe." He laughed. "You left your door open when you showered, you wore those tiny shorts around the house, you sat on my lap during movie night, and you wiggled; you knew exactly what you were doing."

I said nothing. He was right, I'd wanted his attention, and I'd wanted him to break.

And he actually broke.

He pushed inside me in one deep stroke, making me cry out, gripping the couch cushions. He was big, too big. But I was wet enough to take him. He didn't move at first; he just stayed there, buried inside me. 

"Feel that?" he asked. His voice was strained. "Feel how I fit? This is where you belong, right here, under me."

"Just…move—"

"Say it again, Say I own you."

"You own me," I gasped. "I'm yours, just move."

He moved.

Hard and deep, every thrust pushed me higher up the couch, making me claw at the cushions. His hips slapped against my ass as he pulled my hair, forcing my head back.

"Look in the mirror," he said.

The reflection on the wall across the room. I watched him take me, watched my face twist with pleasure, watched his expression. Focused and Intense. Like he was memorizing every second.

"You're beautiful like this," he said. "So desperate, so undone, that I could fuck you all night and never get tired of watching you break."

"Please," I begged. "I need—"

"Need what?"

I couldn't form words, and he thrust deeper and deeper, his hand slid around my hip, and his fingers found my clit and pressed.

"Come for me," he said. "Come on my cock."

I shattered again, my whole body shook, as I screamed his name into the cushion and he drove into me through every wave, chasing his own release.

"Fuck, Ivy—"

He pulled out at the last second, spilling across my lower back. He leaned forward and kissed my shoulder.

I slumped over the couch, as he grabbed a towel from somewhere and wiped my back, gently, like I was something precious.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"No," I mumbled.

He laughed. "Didn't think so."

He lifted me off the couch and carried me up the stairs. But I didn't protest, I  was too tired, too satisfied, and too broken in the best possible way.

He lay me in his bed, covering me with his blanket.

"Don't leave," I said.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He climbed in beside me, pulling me against his chest. His skin was warm, and his heartbeat was steady. I listened to it until my eyes closed.

---

Morning came too fast.

I woke up in his arms, his face was relaxed and peaceful.

I shifted, and his eyes opened.

"Hey," he said. His voice was raspy, a morning voice, I guess, and  God, it was hot.

"Hey."

"Last night wasn't a dream?"

"Last night was very real." I sat up, and the sheet fell away from my chest. He looked at me, and I saw hunger flicker across his face.

"Don't," I said, covering myself.

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that. I need to process."

He propped himself up on his elbow. "Process what?"

"That I just slept with my stepbrother, that I've been wanting you all summer, and that I'm still not sure if I should hate you or love you."

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face. "You can do both," he said. "I've been hating and loving you for two years."

I stared at him. "What?"

"Two years since the wedding. The way you walked down the aisle in that blue dress, and I couldn't breathe. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I also thought you were off-limits. My step-sister, my family. I tried to push it down, tried to ignore it."

I swallowed hard. "Did it work?"

"Does it look like it worked?"

"I don't want to sneak around," he said. "I don't want to hide, I want—" He stopped, and shook his head.

"What?" I asked.

"I want you, all of you. Not just your body, but your mornings, your afternoons, your stupid fights with your mother. I want everything."

My heart pounded. "Maddox—"

"Say you want that too."

I opened my mouth, and the word was right there.

"Yes," I said.

He kissed me, deeper. 

Then the phone on his nightstand buzzed. He glanced at it, and his expression shifted.

"It's your mom," he said. "She's on her way back, and she'll be here in two hours."

I scrambled out of bed, grabbed my dress from last night, still crumpled on the floor.

"Two hours? I need to shower, I  need to change, I need to—"

"Breathe," he said. "Calm down."

"How am I supposed to calm down?"

He walked up to me and took my face in his hands, while kissing my forehead, 

"We'll figure this out," he said. "I'm not letting you go."

And I believed him.