Forbidden Desires I & II

Chapter 3: End of The Dare

After that night, Julian and I parts kept crossing in the house. He now lives with us because according to my mom “I want you to bond well. It seems you don't like your new step brother and you must grow to love him.”

But she doesn't know that my new stepbrother makes me whimper hard on his c**k, choke with his c**k and drive with nuts with his fingers.

My mom had gone with Mark to see their wedding planner. And I'm home alone with my step brother.

Just the thought of the word step brother sounded awkward to me and got me wet. I was dishing my breakfast when I felt his presence in the kitchen.

I turned around. Julian was leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching me like he’d been waiting for me to notice him. His black hair still fell over his grey eyes the same way it always did.

The same way that used to make my stomach flip even before the dare.

“Good morning, stepsister,” he said, voice low.

I set the glass down harder than I meant to “Morning, Julian,”

“Do you always drink water so well whenever you're wet — when I'm around you?”

Heat rushed up my neck. I looked away, gripping the edge of the counter. “We almost got caught last night. Our parents returned back less than a minute after you… finished. And also we can't be doing this again because we are family. This is a taboo-”

He pushed off the doorframe and walked closer, slow. “But I remembered you begging me to f**k you so hard. I remembered your legs vibrating, as you cried. You really don't want us to stop.”

I swallowed. The kitchen suddenly felt too small. “Also, that doesn’t mean we should do it again because we almost got caught.”

Julian stopped right in front of me. Close enough that I could smell my own scent still on him. “You kept saying ‘we shouldn’t’ but you kept begging to c*m on my c**k. For me to f**k you till you run out of breath.”

My thighs pressed together on their own. I could still feel him leaking out of me. The wetness between my legs hadn’t gone away. If anything it felt worse now that we were alone in the quiet house.

“Julian…” I tried to keep my voice steady. “You’re going to be my stepbrother. Officially. Living here. Sharing a bathroom. Eating at the same table every night.”

“I know.” His hand came up and brushed a strand of auburn hair behind my ear. The touch was light, almost careful. “That’s why it feels better.”

I didn’t move away. My heart was beating too fast. The tension between us was thick enough to choke on. Neither of us spoke for a few seconds. The only sound was the fridge humming and my own uneven

breathing.

Finally he tilted his head. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

The words hung in the air. I could have said it. I should have said it. Instead I looked up at him and whispered, “Don’t.”

That was all it took.

Julian’s hand slid from my hair to the back of my neck. He pulled me forward and kissed me hard, the kind of kiss that left no room for thinking. I kissed him back just as desperately, tasting the flavour of his toothpaste and something darker. His other hand gripped my waist and lifted me onto the kitchen counter in

one smooth motion. The cold marble made me gasp against his mouth.

He stepped between my legs, pushing the red dress up my thighs. His fingers found the bare skin where my panties used to be. A low sound left his throat when he felt how wet I still was.

“f**k, Sam,” he muttered against my lips. “You’re still full of me and already this soaked again.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Then do something about it, step brother.”

He didn’t need more invitations. Julian unbuckled his belt with one hand while the other stayed between my legs, two fingers sliding inside me easily. I moaned into his shoulder. He worked me open for only a

a few seconds before replacing his fingers with the thick head of his c**k.

He pushed in slowly this time, letting me feel every inch. When he bottomed out we both went still, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.

Finally got to feel his c**k inside of me again.

“Still can’t believe I get to f**k my stepsister on the kitchen counter,” he said, voice rough.

I clenched around him. “Then stop talking and f**k me.”

He did. Hard, deep strokes that made the cabinets rattle. One of his hands braced on the counter beside my hip; the other held the back of my neck so I couldn’t look away. Every thrust dragged another soft sound out

of me. The wet slap of skin filled the empty kitchen.

“You gonna stay quiet this time?” he asked, hips snapping forward. “Or are you gonna let the whole house hear how much you like your stepbrother’s c**k?”

“I—ah—don’t care,” I gasped.

He smirked and f****d me harder. The angle hit something deep that made my toes curl. I dug my nails into his shoulders through his shirt, holding on as the tension, and those little teases that had been coiling in my stomach for the past few days finally snapped. I came with a broken moan, legs shaking around him.

Julian followed a few thrusts later, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside me with a low groan. He stayed there, hips pressed tight against mine, while we both caught our breath.

After a moment he pulled back just enough to look at me. His grey eyes were darker than usual.

“Round two,” he said quietly. “And we still have almost some hours left.”

I was still trembling on the counter, my nightie gown bunched around my waist, his c*m already starting to drip

onto the marble.

“Then what are you waiting for… brother?”

After a couple rounds of s*x from the kitchen counter, to the floor, then the dining table now the couch

We were both naked now his mouth wrapped around my n*****s as he fuddled with the other

I dragged him closer, my legs wrapped tightly around him. I played with his hair, then he leaned in his lips entangled with mine. It wasn't rushed or rough this time. Just soft, lingering kisses that made my stomach flip. I kissed him back, smiling against his lips when he did. One of his hands rested lightly on

my waist, the other playing with a strand of my auburn hair. “You’re going to have to call me ‘brother’ at family dinners, while moaning my name every night” he teased.

I groaned and dropped my head onto his shoulder. “Don’t remind me.”

He laughed properly this time, the sound vibrating against me. “What about Christmas? Matching pajamas? Awkward group photos?”

“I’ll fake a stomach flu every year,” I muttered.

“Or,” he said, tilting my chin up so I looked at him, “we just get really good at pretending nothing’s going on.”

I smiled despite myself. “You’re dangerous.”

“You like it.”

He kissed me again, slower, deeper. We stayed like that for a while with soft kisses, quiet laughter, and small jokes about how ridiculous our new “family” situation was. The earlier desperation had faded into

something warmer and more dangerous in a different way.

At one point he pulled back just enough to murmur, “I still can’t believe you’re going to be living across the hall from me.”

Before I could answer, the sharp sound of keys rattled in the front door downstairs.

I froze.