All Chapters of My Forbidden Brother : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

OLIVIA The ride home was full of nerves, Adrian could be waiting for me already or he would show up in my room after I get home. The silence of the house felt like a physical weight against my chest as I stepped through the front doors. Usually, the marble floors and soaring ceilings made me feel small, but today, they made me feel exposed. I kept expecting Adrian to step out from the shadows of the living room or be leaning against the banister with that cold, calculating smirk he wore so well. But there was nothing. Just the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, mocking the frantic beat of my heart. Every step up the grand staircase felt heavier than the last. The "rule" was still a dull ache between my thighs, a constant reminder of the release he’d denied me and the provocation I had sent him from the school bathroom. I was a ball of nerves and heat, my skin feeling sensitized to the point of pain. Had I gone too far? Sending those pictures had felt like a

OLIVIA The mention of our father felt like a bucket of ice water over my head. Reality rushed back in—the cold hardwood floors, the tick of the clock, the fact that I was currently a tangled, "ruined" mess in my stepbrother's bed while our father was expected downstairs in half an hour. ​"Thirty minutes?" I gasped, my voice coming back in a panicked rush. "Adrian, I can’t—I look—" ​"You look exactly how I wanted you to look," he interrupted, his voice cool and clinical now, as if he hadn't just been growling in my ear. He stood up and walked toward his desk, the transition back to the composed business student and big brother so seamless it was haunting. "But you’re right. You’re a mess. I suggests you move quickly. I’d hate for Dad to wonder why you’re limping to the table." ​I scrambled off the bed, my legs nearly giving out the moment my feet hit the floor. I clutched the silk robe around me, the fabric damp and sticking to my skin in places that made my face burn with sh

OLIVIA As Adrian kept explaining, I kept grinding against his leg, the rogue fabric of his trousers was making me even more sensitive. I gripped his shoulder as he explained. Every time I closed my eyes, he held my waist to make me stop. "I forgot to tell you. You are only allowed to move as long as you concentrate. Any sign of distraction, I stop you from moving." he smirked. I whimpered, paying attention to the book. He let go of my waist and I moved, making sure I was listening and trying to make myself cum. The friction was agonizingly perfect. Adrian’s leg was solid and unyielding beneath me, and every time I shifted, the coarse texture of his trousers sent a jolt of electricity straight to the ache he had spent all day cultivating. I wanted to move faster, to lose myself in the friction, but the moment my eyes fluttered shut or my breathing became too hitched, his large hands would clamp down on my hips like a vice. "Focus, Olivia," he murmured, his voice sounding enti

OLIVIA Immediately the final bell rang, I was already on my way outside. Adrian had said he would pick me up, and somehow that alone had made the entire day feel longer than usual. And just like he promised, his car was parked in the parking lot. The windows were tinted, but I could feel it—his presence, heavy and watchful. After waving goodbye to my friends, I walked over and slipped into the passenger seat. “Hey, babygirl,” he said, his voice low and familiar. “How was school today?” I dropped my bag in the backseat and nodded. “It was good.” He hummed softly, eyes flicking toward me for a brief second before returning to the road. The engine purred as the car pulled away from the curb. “Just good?” he asked. I hesitated. “It was… normal,” I added. “Normal,” he repeated, like he didn’t quite believe it. The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was thick, charged. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my skirt as I stared out the window, watching the familiar s

ADRIAN The silence in the study was absolute, broken only by the erratic, hitching rhythm of Olivia’s breath. She lay across the mahogany desk like a fallen saint, her skin flushed a deep, petal-pink and glowing under the low amber light of the desk lamp. The silk gown was a ruined scrap around her waist, and her hair, damp with sweat and the spray of the wine we’d shared earlier, was fanned out across the dark wood like ink. She looked shattered. Beautifully, unapologetically undone. I stayed between her legs for a long moment, my hands still ghosting over the high curves of her thighs, tracing the dark purple brands I had etched into her skin. With my father in the city for the week, the house felt cavernous, a silent fortress where the only reality that mattered was the girl trembling beneath my touch. There were no footsteps in the hallway, no sudden car tires on the gravel driveway. There was only this. "Stay," I commanded softly, though I knew she couldn't move if she