Chapter 4

Ashamed of what had happened between them, Mara hid in the room from Matt. She didn't leave the bedroom until she was certain he had gone to work. She took care of the baby, to take her mind off what had taken place between her and her step-brother, and by the time the clock rolled to 9 PM, she was grateful she had evaded him.

She didn't want to confront what had happened and wanted to bury it between them. Out of sight, out of mind.

Like always, Dominic hadn't helped at all. He went to work, drove to see his mistress before he returned, drunk and spent. He didn't spare their baby a glance, he just went straight to the bed, dozing off the second his head hit the pillow. Mara stared at him as he slept, the guilt she had felt all day dissipating.

“Fuck you!” She gritted out, leaning back on the headboard, intending to rest a little before the baby woke, only for her door handle to turn. Her breath hitched in her throat when the door opened and Matt walked in. The soft glow of their bedside lamp cast enough light for her to see him despite the darkness.

Matt closed the door behind him and strode over to the bed. He didn't look at Dominic. His eyes were only for her, for the wet fabric clinging to her nipple. She didn't even realise she was leaking through her nursing gown until she felt his eyes on her. Matt was like a starved man, drawn to that part of her he wanted for himself.

“Leaking again,” he said, closing the distance between them.

Mara's gaze flicked to her husband's still form before she whispered, afraid she might wake him if she spoke normally, “Matt, not here. He's right here.”

“He's asleep.” Matt moved toward her, his steps silent on the carpet. “He's drunk tonight. He won't even know what we're doing.” He stopped in front of her and looked down. “You're all tight again. I can see it.”

He reached out, and his thumb brushed over the damp spot. The material was thin enough for him to feel the hard peak of her nipple beneath, and the heat of the milk trapped under her skin. Mara shuddered as she tried to stifle a sound.

“Please,” she breathed, but it was empty. Her back was already arching, pushing her breast into his touch. “We shouldn't… It's not right. We can't.” Even as she said that, the rest of her body was seeking him out.

“Why are you fighting this when you want it as badly as I?” Matt smiled as he hooked a finger under the strap of her tank top and pulled it down, baring her breast. The air was cool on her wet skin and a bead of milk pearled at the tip. He watched it form, swell, and cling, but he didn't taste it, not yet.

His hands went to his waistband, and the rasp of his zip was loud in the hushed room. Mara's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "We can't."

“Look at me,” he whispered, ignoring her reluctance.

She dragged her gaze up to his face. Her eyes were wide, dark pools of shame and hunger that mirrored his own. He pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself. His cock was already hard, thick, and flushed, ready for what they both knew would go down.

"Isn't it thrilling, doing it here with him?" He took a step closer until the head brushed her bare knee, and she flinched at the contact, at the heat of him.

“You know what to do,” he said. It wasn't a command. “You hid from me all day, and made me this hard, just thinking of you. Don't you think you owe me an apology, at least?”

A soft, choked sound escaped her. Her eyes darted again to Dominic, scared he might hear, might see his wife's stepbrother in their bed, about to do wicked things to his wife, but his breathing was deep, even, unchanged.

Matt wrapped a hand in her hair as he guided her head forward. “Open.”

Her lips parted on a trembling exhale even though she tried to fight this, to tell her body it was all wrong. She didn't avoid him all day just to succumb to his hold now. Ignoring the reluctant expression in her eyes, Matt guided himself into the wet heat of her mouth.

She gagged as he pushed deeper until the head nudged the back of her throat. He held there, letting her feel the stretch, the intrusion. Her nostrils flared as she breathed through her nose, and a tear escaped, tracking down her cheek.

“Good,” he murmured, his hand still fisted in her hair. He looked down at the sight: his sister on her husband's bed, his cock buried in her mouth, her breast bare and leaking. “Now suck.”

Her obedience was slow, then instinctual, her cheeks hollowed as the tight, wet suction drew a low groan from Matt's chest. He let his head fall back, eyes closing for a second to savour the slick, hot pull of her mouth. Each withdrawal left her lips slick and swollen, and each thrust sank him back into that willing warmth.

When he opened his eyes to watch, he saw milk dripping from her exposed nipple, a slow, steady trickle running down the curve of her breast and onto the duvet, spreading in a dark bloom on the pale fabric. “You're wasting it,” he said, his voice strained as he pulled himself from her mouth with a soft pop, leaving a string of saliva connecting her lip to his shining tip. “Clean it up.”

Confusion flickered in her wet eyes until he tapped the head of his cock against her damp nipple, and understanding dawned, bringing a fresh wave of humiliation that flushed her cheeks.

She bent her head, tongue darting out to lap at the milk trailing down her skin, but he corrected her with gentle pressure in her hair, bringing her gaze back to him. He smeared the head of his cock through the mess on her breast, mixing her milk with her saliva and his own pre-cum. “Clean this.”

Her breath hitched as she stared at the glistening tip pressed against her. But then, with a whimper of pure surrender, she opened her mouth and took him back in, licking, sucking, and cleaning him with desperate, submissive hunger.

Letting out a silent groan, his hips jerked forward, fucking her mouth in earnest now with deep, punishing strokes that made her gag and tears flow freely. “That's it,” he grunted, fingers tightening in her hair. “Take it. Take all of it, you leaking cunt.”

He was close, the pressure coiling tight at the base of his spine, and though he wanted to come down her throat, to mark her from the inside, he had a better idea. He pulled out abruptly, leaving her sagging and coughing, saliva and milk slick on her chin. Matt turned her, pushing her forward onto the bed so she was on her hands and knees beside her sleeping husband, then yanked her shorts and underwear down to her thighs in one sharp motion.

Her ass was bare, her pussy exposed and glistening already. He spat into his palm, slicked himself roughly, and without ceremony, drove into her from behind. Mara cried out, the sound muffled as she buried her face into the duvet.

He sheathed himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust, hips flush against her ass. “Quiet,” he hissed, leaning over her with his chest against her back, one hand braced on the mattress beside Dominic's leg while the other wrapped around to find her leaking nipple pinching and pulling. “You wake him, and I'll tell him exactly what his wife tastes like.”

Mara had to swallow back a whimper, knowing he would do as he had threatened.

He began to move in hard, deep, relentless strokes that shook the bed frame, each thrust slamming her forward in a rhythmic jolt that made the headboard tap softly against the wall. Dominic murmured in his sleep, shifted slightly, but didn't wake.

Matt fucked her like he was starving, like this was the only thing that would keep him alive; the slap of skin, the wet rhythmic sound of their joining, her choked and sobbing gasps. He watched Dominic's sleeping face over her shoulder and smiled.

“You're mine,” he grunted into her ear, his pace becoming erratic and frantic. "This cunt is mine. This milk is mine and this fucking bed is mine."