Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 38
(Angel's POV)
Hendrix's lips crashed against mine and it felt like the world around us fell away. His kiss was demanding and raw, like he was
trying to take every piece of me he could get. I tasted the faint bitterness of his medication still on his lips, but it didn't matter. His
hands tangled in my hair and pulled me closer, and the warmth of his body seeped into mine like fire spreading under my skin.
There was a sharp urgency in the way his mouth moved against mine and I felt his frustration and hunger in every breath we
took from each other.
The air in the room grew thicker and the sterile scent of antiseptic mixed with the musk of Hendrix's skin. His tongue swept over
my bottom lip, a silent plea I couldn't resist. He had already carried me up and laid me on the bed. I opened for him and the
moment his tongue slid against mine, it felt like an electric current shot through me, sparking in every nerve. My body arched into
his and I craved more contact and more heat. His taste was addictive, a mix of bitterness and something darker that made me
want more of him with every passing second.
I felt the cool leather of the treatment bed pressing into my back, contrasting with the heat of his body as he leaned over me. His
hands slid down and his rough fingertips traced the curve of my jaw and my throat, and the sensation made me dizzy like he was
marking me with every touch. My heart raced and pounded so hard it felt like it might burst, but I couldn't focus on anything other
than how his lips moved against mine-hard and relentless, like he was claiming me. The sounds of our kisses filled the room, soft
and wet, each one pulling a moan from deep in my throat. Hendrix's breath was hot and ragged, and his chest rose and fell with
mine as he pressed closer, his body a solid wall of heat against me. The friction between us-his body hard and mine pliant-sent a
wave of need through me and I couldn't stop my hands from roaming and gripping the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His

skin felt feverish beneath my palms and every muscle was tight like he was holding back something dangerous.
When he pulled back, his breath came in ragged gasps and his eyes looked wild as they locked onto mine. His lips were swollen
and his pupils were wide, and there was something feral in the way he stared at me. For a moment, we stayed still and breathed
hard, staring at each other like we were on the edge of something we couldn't return from. His thumb brushed over my bottom
lip, swollen and sensitive from his kisses, and a shiver ran through me. I trembled and my whole body felt alive with a need I
couldn't deny any longer.
Without a word, he leaned in again, slower this time and more careful. His mouth was softer now, almost gentle as it moved over
mine, but the intensity was still there. His kiss was a promise and a warning, and it left me breathless and

hanging on the brink of something dark, something I couldn't turn away from. Every kiss felt like a surrender and I knew, deep
down, that there was no turning back from this.
Hendrix's hands slid down my sides and his fingers grazed over the hem of my shirt. I knew I should stop him. The voice in the
back of my mind screamed that this was wrong, that we were crossing a line we couldn't uncross. We were step- siblings, for
god's sake. But every time I thought about pulling away and stopping this, his hands pulled me back in and ignited a fire that
drowned out the guilt and shame. He tugged at my shirt and without thinking, I lifted my arms and let him strip it from my body
like it was never meant to be there. The cool air of the room hit my skin and made me shiver, but all I could focus on was the
heat radiating from him.
"Angel..." His voice was low and rough as his eyes moved over my body. There was hunger there, and it sent a jolt through me.
"You're beautiful," he murmured as his fingers brushed the waistband of my jeans. I bit my lip and tried to focus, tried to remind
myself why this was wrong, but I couldn't. I couldn't think when he looked at me like that, like he was starving and I was the only
thing that could satisfy him.
"We shouldn't..." I whispered more to myself than to him, but even I didn't believe it anymore. My body had already made the

decision, and he knew it. He leaned in and his breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, "Tell me to stop and I will. But we
both know you don't want me to."
I shivered as his hands dipped lower and unbuttoned my jeans with a smooth flick of his fingers. My heart raced as I tried to
make sense of the storm raging inside me. We're family. This is wrong. But as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband and
brushed against my skin, my mind went blank. All I could feel was him. The way he touched me, the way he looked at me like he
knew exactly what I was thinking and exactly what I needed. He pulled my jeans down and his hands moved slowly and carefully
as if he was savoring every second. I knew I should stop this. I should stop him. But I couldn't. "You don't want this to stop, do
you, Angel?" His voice was a taunt, but it carried something deeper and darker. He knew exactly how to break me down.
"No," I breathed, and my voice was shaky but honest. The weight of the admission made my heart stutter and there was no
taking it back. I was too far gone. His grin turned wicked like he'd won some unspoken game between us. Before I could say
another word, his hand slipped lower, between my thighs. The heat from his palm spread through me and his fingers began to
move, slow at first, exploring and teasing. My breath hitched as he pressed against the damp fabric of my underwear and his
thumb circled just where I needed him most. "You're soaking," he growled softly, and the shame that rose in my chest only made
the pleasure more intense. He was right. I wanted him. I wanted this.
His fingers slid past the fabric and found me bare and slick. When he touched me, I gasped, and my hips instinctively bucked
against his hand. "That's it," he murmured, his voice dark and full of promise. "Let go for me." His fingers found a rhythm,

stroking and coaxing, and it felt too good, too overwhelming. The tension built inside me with every stroke, and I was caught
between wanting it to end and never wanting it to stop. "Hendrix," I moaned, and my hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging
in as he pushed me closer to the edge. Every inch of me burned and ached for release, and he knew it. He leaned in, and his
lips brushed against my neck, whispering in my ear, "Don't hold back, Angel. I want to hear you."
I fell apart under his touch and the words that spilled from my mouth were a mess of pleas and protests that meant nothing
anymore. This is wrong. This is so wrong. But it was too late. His fingers curled inside me and hit a spot that made me see stars.
I cried out, and my body trembled as the pleasure built, threatening to unravel me. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured
against my skin, his voice sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't respond, too caught up in the feeling of him driving me higher
and closer to the brink. And as I hung on the edge, gasping and trembling, I realized... I didn't want to stop this. Not anymore.