CHAPTER 2

Finally, he pulled back. Her breast slipped from his mouth with a wet sound, both nipples now red, glistening, and spent, but still eager to feel the mouth on them.

A thin trickle of milk ran down the curve of her breast, and Matt chased it with his tongue, lapping to clean her. His eyes were glazed and drunk as he straightened and looked down at her exposed, leaking chest. His lips were slick and his chin damp.

“Fuck, I can do this all day without being tired,” he rasped, his voice rough with satisfaction as he cupped both breasts in his hands and weighed them. They were softer now, less tight. “All mine.”

Mara shuddered, not just from the possessive tone and the way his eyes had been focused on her, like she was the only one he could see. It was more of the emptiness inside of her at the withdrawal of his mouth. She felt lightheaded and her knees gave out completely.

Matt caught her with his powerful arms and turned her, pressing her back against the cold counter. The edge bit into her hips when he stepped between her legs and forced them apart with his own. The hard ridge of his erection pressed against the seam of her pyjama pants.

“You're shaking,” he whispered against her temple.

She was. Tremors ran through her, part cold, part shock and part need.

Matt smiled and dipped his head to kiss her. His mouth tasted of her. He licked into her, sharing the taste and forcing her to taste herself on his tongue.

Mara whimpered into his mouth as her hands came up to clutch his shoulders. She kissed him back, hungry and unashamed, her body softening against his in total surrender.

Matt deepened the kiss, swallowing her gasp as he slid his hand down to grip her hip, holding her in place against him. Mara melted into the kiss, her hands gripping him tight as she felt the clench of her pussy. One more place was wet and ready for him, and it wasn't her breasts. It was somewhere else, her pussy clenching, desperate for something hard.

It should have disgusted her that she was wet for her stepbrother, but it didn't.

Matt broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged. He pulled back just enough to look at her face; her swollen lips and her tear-streaked cheeks.

He took her hand and guided it down, pressing her palm against the hard, thick length of him straining against his jeans. “Can you feel this?” he asked, his eyes never leaving hers. “This is how you make me feel, Mara. It's fucking hard for you.”

Matt's hands slid from her hips to the backs of her thighs, and he lifted her effortlessly like she weighed nothing, even though she weighed 70 kg.

Mara gasped as her weight left the floor. The cold edge of the counter met the backs of her legs, and then she was seated on it, the hard linoleum surface pressing against her. Matt stepped between her knees, spreading them wider and caging her against the cabinets.

“Better,” he murmured, his eyes level with hers now. His hands stayed on her thighs and his thumbs stroked the soft inner skin just above her knees.

Matt's gaze travelled down her body in a slow, possessive way, his gaze feeling like soft fingers on her body. He saw the tremble in her hands as she gripped the counter's edge, and the dark, tight peaks of her nipples, still glistening with his saliva and the last traces of milk.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice rough. “Sitting on your kitchen counter. Tits out, just for me.”

Mara's face burned, and she tried to pull her legs together, but his hips held them apart. The thick ridge of his erection pressed against the thin cotton of her pyjama pants, right at her core.

“Matt—”

“Shh.” He brought a hand up to cup her cheek and his thumb brushed her lower lip. “You don't need to say anything, sister, just feel.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, this time slower and deeper. He tasted her thoroughly, his tongue exploring the sweet-milk flavour he'd left in her mouth. One hand slid from her cheek into her hair, fisting gently and tilting her head back to give him better access.

Mara moaned into his mouth as she released her hands from the counter and found his shoulders, then the back of his neck. Her fingers tangled in his short hair, and she kissed him back, open-mouthed and desperate.

Matt's other hand left her thigh and moved up over her hip and waist to close over her bare breast. He palmed its fullness, his thumb circling the wet nipple.

He broke the kiss, breathing hard. “Tell me you want this.”

She shook her head in weak denial, but her hips rocked forward, seeking the pressure of his cock.

“Tell me,” he insisted, his thumb pinching her nipple, just shy of pain.

A sob caught in her throat. “I can't.”

“You can.” He leaned his forehead against hers, his breath hot on her lips. “Your body's screaming it. Let your mouth catch up.”

He ground himself against her in a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. The friction, even through two layers of fabric, was electric, and Mara cried out as her head fell back.

“Say it, Mara,” he coaxed, his voice dark. “Say, 'I want my brother.'”

Tears spilt over her lashes, and her chest heaved. “I want,” she whispered, the sound torn from her. “I want you.”

She couldn't deny it even though she wanted to, even though her mind told her it was wrong. This was totally wrong. She shouldn't want her stepbrother.

Matt's eyes fluttered shut, and a shudder went through him. “Again.”

“I want you, Matt.”

He kissed her hard, as his hands went to the waistband of her pyjama pants. He didn't fumble. He hooked his fingers into the elastic and pulled them down, taking her panties with it in one rough motion, so she was naked from the waist down, splayed on the counter for him. Matt took a step back and his gaze dropped between her legs.

His breath caught. “Fuck, just look at you.”

Mara knew what he saw. The slick, swollen evidence of her arousal and the truth she couldn't hide.

This is all wrong!

Her mind screamed at her, that sane side of her thoughts, but she ignored it.

She had been aching for this, for the feel of a man's hands on her, and now that she was getting what she wanted, she didn't want it to end.

Matt dropped to his knees on the hard kitchen floor and buried his face between her legs. The first touch was his breath, hot and deliberate, against her slick skin, then the flat of his tongue stroked from her, right on her clit.

Moaning at the electric feeling that went through her, Mara's back arched off the counter and a silent scream tore through her. Her hands flew to his head, fingers knotting in his hair, to hold him there.

Matt groaned against her, the vibration making her thighs shake. He didn't tease, he feasted. His mouth was hungry and relentless, his tongue delving inside her, tasting her deeply before circling her swollen clit. He ate her like a starved man, his nose pressed into her, breathing her in.

“Matt,” she whimpered, her hips rocking up into his face. “Oh, please.”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with hers. “Please what, sister?”

At the mention of the word 'sister', it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dropped on her, quenching that fire that had muffled her senses.