Chapter 3

He looked up at her from between her thighs, his dark eyes gleaming when he felt her freeze. “That's what you are, Mara. My sister. My leaking, desperate sister.” He lowered his mouth again, his tongue flicking her clit once, twice, making her jolt. “Say it.”

She shook her head, tears spilling anew.

He stopped and waited, his breath fanning her wetness, letting her know he wouldn't touch her if she didn't say what he wanted to hear.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Or I stop.”

Mara knew she should ask him to do that, push him off her and get down, but her body betrayed her, clenching around nothing and aching. “Don't stop.”

“Then tell me who I'm tasting.”

She sobbed. “Your sister.”

“Good girl.”

His mouth returned, more fervent than before as he sucked her clit into his mouth, applying a steady, pulsing pressure that had her seeing stars. One hand came up to grip her hip, pinning her to the counter, and the other slid underneath her, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, holding her open for him.

Mara's heels dug into the small of his back as her milk let down again, a warm, sudden rush that soaked the front of her shirt. The sweet smell mingled with the musk of her arousal.

Matt noticed. He moaned, the sound muffled against her as he drank from her cunt and smelled her milk, his tongue working faster.

“I'm cum—” she gasped, the warning torn from her.

He didn't let up. He pushed her and his mouth sealed over her pussy desperate. He was going to make her cum on his face in her kitchen, with her husband snoring upstairs.

The orgasm hit her like a seizure. It ripped through her, silent and violent. Her body bowed, rigid, every muscle locked, and a wave of intense heat flooded her, followed by a pulsing, endless release. Matt drank it all, his throat working as he swallowed her down, his tongue gentling to draw out every shudder.

When it was over, she collapsed against the cabinet, boneless and spent. Matt rested his forehead against her inner thigh, breathing heavily, his cheeks wet.

He lifted his head slowly, looking wrecked and triumphant as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, never breaking eye contact. “Tastes like guilt,” he rasped. “And mine.”

He rose from his knees, his jeans straining painfully at the front, and he leaned over her, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of her hips, caging her again.

“He has no idea,” Matt murmured, his eyes tracing her tear-streaked face, her exposed body, the damp patches on her shirt. “That his wife is here with me, legs spread, panting from just the feel of my mouth on her most intimate parts.”

Mara stared up at him, hollowed out and full at the same time. The shame was there, but beneath it, warmer and stronger, was a terrifying sense of rightness. This was wrong. This was her brother, but her body had never felt more alive.

Dominic had never kissed her there. He said it was messy and wasn't necessary, even though she always went down on him whenever he wanted. He just didn't want to return the favour. Instead, he made her feel disgusting for wanting it whenever she asked for one.

Matt's hand slid between them and he unbuttoned his jeans. The sound of the zip coming down was deafening as he freed himself, thick and flushed, the head already wet. He pressed the tip against her, where she was still swollen and sensitive from his mouth.

Mara gasped at the contact and her eyes widened as he pushed inside.

It wasn't gentle. It was a hard, claiming thrust that buried him to the hilt in one brutal motion. The stretch was immediate and shocking that Mara cried out, her hands instantly going to her mouth. She covered it, praying the sound didn't get to the ears of her sleeping and oblivious husband, who was undoubtedly snoring upstairs, unaware of what was happening right under his nose.

Matt groaned as his head dropped to her shoulder, his breath hot against her neck. “Fuck,” he hissed. “So tight. So fucking wet for me.”

He didn't move for a long moment. He just let her feel him, solid and unmoving inside her. Let her adjust to it, then he pulled back, almost all the way out before he slammed home again. The force jolted her body and made her exposed breasts shake, and a fresh bead of milk welled on her reddened nipple.

He set a punishing rhythm from the start. No slow build, no tender exploration. His hips pistoned against her, the slap of skin on skin loud. The counter edge dug into the backs of her thighs as he took her harder than her husband had ever done, his dick brushing that part of her that made goosebumps appear on her arms.

“Look at me,” Matt growled, his voice ragged.

Her eyes, glazed with tears and pleasure, sought his, looking straight into the eyes of a man she had never fantasised about, and wondering how things escalated so fast.

“See who's fucking you,” he commanded, thrusting deep to punctuate each word. “Your brother.”

Each thrust rocked her whole body, and her head bumped into the cabinet behind her. She could feel every ridge and vein of him. She was so slick that the wet, squelching sounds filled the kitchen.

His hand came up, rough and demanding, and pulled her shirt and nursing bra down further to fully expose her other breast. He palmed it, his thumb brushing over the nipple. It tightened instantly and another stream of milk leaked out, tracing a warm path down her ribcage.

Matt watched it, his eyes dark with hunger at the trickle before he bent his head and caught the stream with his tongue, lapping at her skin before sealing his mouth over the peak. He suckled hard, drawing the milk out in deep pools while his hips never stopped their relentless drive.

Mara almost tipped over the edge as intense pleasure gripped her so hard. Her body was being used in every way it was made for, and by the one person it was most forbidden for. A sob caught in her throat, part shame and part surrender.

He released her nipple with a wet pop, milk glistening on his lips. “You taste like home,” he rasped, before crushing his mouth to hers.

The kiss was messy and desperate. She could taste herself on his tongue, salty and musky, mixed with the cloying sweetness of her milk.

His pace began to falter, growing uneven and frantic. His breathing sawed in her ear. “I'm going to come inside you,” he grunted, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. “Going to fill my sister up. Let it drip out of you all night, and let him sleep next to it.”

The filthy promise tipped her over the edge. A second, sharper orgasm tore through her, clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses. She muffled her scream against his shoulder, biting the fabric of his t-shirt.

Her climax pulled him in. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep and held there. A hot, pulsing rush flooded her, marking his claim in the most intimate way possible. He shuddered against her, his whole body trembling with the release.

For a long minute, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the buzz of the light, and the steady snore from above.

Slowly, he lifted his head and looked down between them, at the mess they'd made, at where they were still connected, and a satisfied, dark smile touched his lips. He pulled out, and a trickle of his release followed, warm on her thigh.

He tucked himself back into his jeans, zipping up before he reached out and with his thumb smeared the mixed fluids on her inner thigh. Then he brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked it clean, his eyes locked on hers.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead before he turned and walked to the sink, turning on the tap to a trickle and washing his hands as if he'd just finished a meal. Mara lay splayed on the counter, exposed and dripping, feeling the warm evidence of him seep out of her. The cold stone of shame settled back in her gut, but it was too late. The milk between them had been spilt, and she knew they could never return to the way it was between them.