Siblings Forbidden Embrace Unravels Passion -Chapter -2

I reached up, pulling him down for a kiss, tasting myself on his lips—salty, musky, and profoundly intimate—my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him deeper. The world narrowed to the space where our bodies met, to the pressure of him right there.

And with one slow, inexorable thrust, he filled me.

A sharp, breathless cry escaped my lips, muffled against his mouth. It was a stretch, a delicious, burning fullness that erased every thought, every shred of doubt. My body, still humming from my first climax, convulsed around him, adjusting to the incredible invasion.

Liam froze above me, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding still. A low, guttural groan vibrated from his chest into mine. “Chloe… God… you feel…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, his forehead dropping to mine, our ragged breaths mingling.

I could only cling to him, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back. This was my brother. This was Liam. The boy who’d taught me to ride a bike. The man whose mere presence had made every other boy seem like a pale imitation. And now he was inside me, a part of me in the most elemental way possible. The taboo of it sent a fresh, searing jolt of heat straight to my core.

“Move,” I pleaded, my voice a husky whisper I barely recognized. “Please, Liam. Please.”

That was all the permission he needed. He withdrew slowly, almost completely, the friction a sweet torment, before driving into me again, deeper this time, his hips meeting mine with a soft, solid slap.

A rhythm began, primal and desperate. He braced himself on one elbow, his other hand tangling in my hair, holding my head still so he could devour my mouth with his. Each thrust was a punctuation mark in a sentence we’d been writing our entire lives. I met him stroke for stroke, my hips arching off the couch to take him in deeper, my legs locking tighter around him, pulling him into the very heart of me.

The air filled with the sounds of us: our ragged panting, the wet, rhythmic slide of our bodies joining, the soft creak of the old leather couch. He broke the kiss, his dark eyes burning into mine with an intensity that was almost frightening.

“Look at me,” he demanded again, his voice thick with a possession that made my stomach flutter. “I want to see it in your eyes when you come for me again.”

I was already close, the coil of pleasure winding itself impossibly tight deep within my belly. His length stroked a spot inside me that felt like pure, undiluted lightning. Every nerve ending was on fire, screaming for release.

“Liam… I’m…” I gasped, my head thrashing against the cushion.

“I know,” he growled, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, more purposeful. “Let go. Come for me, Chloe.”

His hand slid between our sweat-slicked bodies, his thumb finding my clit again, applying a firm, circular pressure that shattered the last of my control.

My cry was torn from somewhere deep within my soul. My vision whited out as the climax ripped through me, a tidal wave of sensation so violent and all-consuming that I thought I might break apart. I convulsed around him, my inner muscles clenching and milking his length in relentless waves.

The feeling of my climax tightening around him was his undoing. Liam’s control snapped. A raw, animalistic sound tore from his throat as he drove into me one last, final time, burying himself to the hilt. I felt the hot, pulsing release of his own orgasm, a flood of heat that seemed to brand me from the inside out.

He collapsed on top of me, his full weight a comforting, anchoring pressure. We lay there, tangled together, hearts hammering against each other’s chests, lungs laboring to drag in air. The only sound was our ragged breathing slowly returning to normal. The scent of sex and sweat and us was overwhelming.

Slowly, reality began to seep back in. The setting sun cast long, deep orange shadows across the room. The distant sound of a car door shutting somewhere down the street. We were still joined, still one tangled, messy entity. I could feel the frantic beat of his heart begin to slow against my breast.

He shifted his weight slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at me. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his intense eyes softer now, but no less searching. He brushed a strand of hair from my damp forehead, his touch surprisingly tender.

I expected regret. Shame. The cold, hard slap of what we had just done. But all I felt was a profound, bone-deep satisfaction, and a connection to him so fierce it stole my breath all over again.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the sharp, unmistakable sound of a key turning in the front door lock froze the words on his lips.

Our eyes locked, wide with a sudden, shared panic.

Click.

The groan of the heavy front door swinging open.

A cheerful, familiar voice called out, echoing through the suddenly too-quiet house. “Kids? I’m home early! Traffic was a nightmare, but I brought pizza!”