MY BROTHER, MY SIN

His mouth was already on her neck, hot, open and wet, kissing and sucking like he owned her. Emma gasped as her back hit the hotel room wall. Her dress was halfway off. His hands were all over her, moving fast and hungry, like he needed her more than he needed air. She didn’t stop him. She didn’t even think. Her fingers tangled in his hair while his slid under her panties like he already knew her. One strap of her dress fell, then the other, until her dress hit the floor with a soft sound. Her bra followed next. He stepped back just long enough to look at her. His eyes were dark, focused and starving. She didn’t even know his name. He didn’t ask for hers either. His mouth came back to her skin, his breath hot on her collarbone. She arched into him as his tongue moved lower. His hips pressed against hers and she could feel how hard he was already. Her hand slid between them without thinking, touching him through his jeans. She didn’t care. She wanted this. No small talk. No lies. No pressure. Just heat and hands and escape. A few hours ago, she was walking through the streets of Paris, holding her heels in her hand, hair wild from the wind. She came here to clear her head and get away from all the talk. Everyone asking when she would get married, her family saying she wasn’t getting younger , the family dinners, the fake smiles, the pressure that clung to her like Arabian perfume. She needed to forget. Just for one night. The club was loud and full of color and sound. Lights flashed with people moving together like they were trying to become one. The music was fast and it matched how messy she felt inside. That was when she saw him. He was leaning at the bar, alone. His hair was dark, broad shoulders, and eyes that didn’t smile. He looked like someone who didn’t belong there either. They stared at each other. No flirting,no small talk. Just something heavy pulling them closer. He walked over and said one word. "Drink?" She nodded. They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to. Everything between them was quiet. Like their bodies already agreed on something their minds hadn’t. Now, they were here. In his hotel room. No names. No past. No future. Just now. Emma moaned when he lifted her onto the dresser. Her legs opened for him like her body already knew how to welcome him in. Her mind said it was reckless. But her body didn’t care. Her body needed him. He kissed her hard. His mouth was hot and deep on hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck. His hand moved up her stomach and cupped her breast. His thumb brushed her n****e. She gasped. His other hand was inside her panties again. Two fingers, slow at first, teasing. She whimpered and let her head fall back as he touched her just right. "You’re soaked," he murmured. She bit her lip. Her eyes rolled back. "You want this?" he asked. "Yes. Don’t stop." He didn’t. He carried her to the bed, pulled her panties down and off, and laid her down slowly. Her body shook as his eyes dragged over her skin. His gaze was slow and greedy like he wanted to keep her in his memory forever. He unbuckled his belt. Dropped his pants. Her breath caught when she saw him. Big. Thick. Hard. Her whole body tightened in response. No shame. No pause. Just him climbing over her. One hand planted beside her head. The other guiding himself in. When he slid into her, she gasped. The stretch made her toes curl. She was already wet and ready, but he still filled her to the edge. His body was hot and thick and perfect inside her. He cursed quietly, like he wasn’t prepared for how tight she felt. He moved slowly at first, rolling his hips deep, giving her everything. Every single inch. Her legs wrapped around him and her hands clutched his back, dragging him closer. Then he started to move faster. Harder. Deeper. She cried out as her nails dug into his shoulders. Her eyes shut tight. Every thrust hit her right there. Her head spun. Her breath stopped. She was already close. He flipped her over without warning. Emma let out a broken sound as he slid back inside her from behind. His hands gripped her hips tight. He pulled her back into him again and again. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room. The heat between them burned. He wasn’t saying her name. He didn’t know it. Just moans and grunts and that raw kind of pleasure that made everything else disappear. She reached between her legs, rubbing fast. "Come for me," he groaned. And she did. She came hard, legs shaking, breath gone, her voice lost in the pillow. Her whole body clenched tight around him. He cursed again, pulled out just in time, and came all over her back. His breath was heavy. The room was quiet. But he wasn’t done. He leaned down, kissed her shoulder, then her spine. His hands ran up her thighs and around her waist. He flipped her onto her back again, kissed her breasts, sucked gently. She whimpered, sensitive already. "Too much?" he asked. She shook her head. Her voice was shaky. "No. Again." He smiled, kissed her again, slower now. He licked between her thighs, making her cry out. His tongue circled her c**t, slow and steady, bringing her back up again. She grabbed the sheets, gasping. Her legs tried to close but he held them open. His tongue worked her while two fingers slid inside. "Please," she whispered. He didn’t stop. She came again, shivering, crying out with no shame. Then he climbed over her again. She watched him stroke himself, still hard. He entered her again, slower this time, but deeper. She was sore, but she still wanted him. Her legs wrapped around him again. Her nails scraped down his back. He moved inside her, long and slow. They kissed now. Deep and wet. She moaned into his mouth. He held her face and whispered, "You feel too good." They kept moving together, slower but just as intense. She came a third time, shaking in his arms. He followed, groaning low and deep, his body tensing above hers. This time, he collapsed beside her. Silent. Still. Minutes passed. Maybe more. Emma lay still, heart pounding. She turned over, hair a mess, skin damp, legs aching. She reached beside her. The bed was empty. She sat up. He was gone. Her red dress was on the chair. Her panties on the floor. Her phone was dead. Her purse untouched. But him? Gone. No note. No number. No name. She stood slowly, wrapping the sheet around her. Her body ached. Her chest was tight. She walked to the bathroom, turned on the light. The mirror showed her a stranger. Red cheeks. Messy hair. Swollen lips. Love bites all over her chest. Mascara smudged under her eyes. She looked like someone else. A version of herself she didn’t know. For a second, she wanted to cry. But she didn’t. She looked herself in the eye and whispered, "What the hell did you just do." At sunrise, she slipped out of the hotel. Her heels in her hand again. Her head pounding. Her face bare. Her body sore. Paris was quiet. She didn’t know his name. He didn’t know hers. So maybe it didn’t count. Maybe it was just a dream. A mistake. A secret she would bury. Right???? Right.?