Summary: Despite having misgivings about her first time with Aiden, the bane of her high school existence and her stepbrother of three estranged years, Amy can't control her newfound lust.

A/N: Thanks for your support! Welcome to part 2 of the story. Please enjoy!

xxx

"Do you know why I hated you so much? Because I couldn't have you, not after you became my goddamn sister! It was just so wrong, and I couldn't forgive your mom, for meeting my dad. That's why I never wanted to be around you. That's why I avoided coming home for the past two summers. Because I couldn't stand to see the sight of you, prancing right in front of me, and being unable to do anything about it! I tried, okay?! You don't know how hard I tried to move on! I tried to fill the void with other girls. I fucked nearly every girl on the dance team! But it felt so wrong because it wasn't you. I didn't want anyone else but you. And when I went to college, I thought that somehow things would just work themselves out. I'd get over you. Move on. And it all seemed to work. I was doing fine. I dated a nice girl for several months. And-and when you just invited me in last night, I couldn't resist... even if it was just one time. One mistake. Because nothing else was enough for me. You were always in the back of my mind. And even if just once... I could be a mistake, I didn't care. I just wanted something to remember. Then maybe I could get you out of my mind." he trailed off, his voice quiet.

"And what do you think of me now, Amy?" His voice soft as a stroke of a paintbrush across a canvas.

Still unable to process what had happened, she just stared back at him, his heaving torso the only part of him that gave away his emotional upheaval. She continued to keep her passive facade even though her insides were working like frazzled clock gears.

When she didn't respond, he continued, "You think I'm some fucked up selfish bastard?" He paused to look back at her, trying to keep calm. Amy stayed silent, too stunned to speak.

Painfully, he said, "I'll keep it to myself. You'll never hear of it again."

But inside, he knew it was far from over. He had a taste of heaven, his deepest desire buried in the darkest chasm of his heart come to life. It only ignited his burning desire. It wasn't an end; it only magnified what he felt for her.

It had been perfect.

He had been her first.

And she wouldn't forget that.

xxx

It was because of the truth of what she felt that she didn't say anything. Last night had been... perfect. It had been everything she envisioned her first time to be, passionate, the balance of gentle and rough, despite not climaxing simultaneously with him. Her body had been like a piano, fine tuned by his hands, sounds she had never made before, she had all but cried out his name aloud for goodness sake! And now she was at a loss. She had felt elated, so fulfilled by the dream, but now her brain was splintering into a thousand shards because it was real.

And it wasn't him.

Did that really matter though? If she could feel such ecstasy with him, did that mean something?

Maybe it just meant she was a sick, twisted freak.

He was now pacing in front of the window.

"Do you really feel something for me, or is it just some taboo thing you wanted?" She stated softly.

"I had these feelings before our parents even knew each other!" He seethed, his frustration rolling in waves toward her.

Feeling like something was squeezing her brain so tightly she couldn't think, she went to her unopened suitcase and began to unpack her clothes. At least it was something to do to help her gain control of her hammering heart. She shot him and her rumpled bed a weary glance every now and then. He looked back at her back, unreadable.

Reaching for a crate on the topmost shelf, she was hoisted up into strong arms and brought to the bed where he sat against the headboard, pulling her with him so that she couldn't help but lean intimately against his chest. The persistent pounding of his chest behind her only served to perpetuate this not-meant-to-be-thing between them.

It had just been a night spark. She had completely lost herself in it. But now she was snapped back to cold reality.

She struggled to move away, but his arms were tight across her waist, holding her close. His mouth moved to the sensitive spot on her neck he had remembered from last night, and kissed the skin fervently, like he somehow wanted to make her agree with him, stay because of her feeling, bring her need out. He knew it was there, dormant. Because last night, he had felt it, bucking against him. She needed it just as much as him, despite what she was trying to tell herself.

When he stopped, she could feel the trace of his lips curve into a smirk.

She felt her face heat, but knew he could not see. As she nudged him off her, she noticed her dresser and mirror right in front of her. He was looking at her. Oh great.

"Blushing I see."

"Am not," she retorted bitterly. Her arms crossed over her chest like a petulant child's, a pouty expression forming on her face as well.

"So you felt something too." He whispered darkly, his satisfied smirk remaining.

His hands moved beneath her shirt to the underside of her breasts, and caressed them. He pushed the soft globes together before taking one nipple between his fingers and pinching it hard.

"Ow!" She said harshly, frowning at his aggressive unfamiliar touch. Fidgeting, but unable to get out of his grasp, she reached for her blanket to cover her self, to hide her humiliation, but he quickly pushed it away. "I want to see you." He grumbled into her hair.

As one hand continued to assail her tingling breasts, another dropped to the hemline of her underwear. He dragged a finger across the waistband teasingly before cupping her arousal. She hoped he couldn't feel her wetness, her shame. What she had so desperately craved last night returned full force. She tightened her grip on the bed sheet, as he pushed her panty to one side to expose her aching pussy. He teased the area with gentle touches as his lips traced the outline of her jaw. She became less stiff and let her head fall back against his shoulder.

Just for a moment. She told herself.

She was supposed to be pushing him away, but she couldn't. She told herself it was to test whether her body would react in the same way it had in the dark yesterday.

It did.

Yet again, she felt like she was in a miasmic lust-induced spell even though she knew fully well who was doing this to her, giving her the exquisite pain, making her moan with need, writhing to his touch.

Before his hand moved away from her pulsing ache, before she was about to take his hand and forcefully put it where she needed it the most, he moved his hand away. Like that, Amy was left with confusion. She let her head fall to the side so that he couldn't see her expression in the mirror. Feeling mortified, she didn't want him to see her. How badly she needed this.

He said hoarsely in her ear, "Tell me."

She wanted it, it felt good, but she didn't want to encourage him. She didn't want to initiate something she was going to regret. Why couldn't he just take this at face value? Just take what he wanted, get it over with? Get it out of his system? Use her and dump her? Why did there need to be words, why logic? Why couldn't it be just a frantic meeting of two bodies, like last night?

In this moment's hesitation and uncertainty, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, but he reacted quickly, catching her, tightening his grip on her arm.

"You're not going anywhere. I'm tired of you not admitting what you want, but I'm not letting you go. Not until you tell me what is happening between us." She struggled against him, still averting her eyes from his piercing gaze.

"Why are you acting like you didn't want this?" He said heavily, his voice sounding vulnerable.

She shook her head, as if to shake off the facts and her lion's pelt. Because inside, she was quaking like a scared sheep. She couldn't keep this up. She was either going to give in, or run. The latter of which she could not do with the present physical restraints.

His hand slide down to rest on her hipbone before moving down to cup her arousal. Trying to keep herself steady and unaffected, Amy kept her arms stiffly by her side. He was teasing her again. He wasn't going to finish. He was going to leave her wanting more.

Keep her at the end of his fishing rod, dangling.

But he didn't, he spread her legs, and cast her panties to one side as he dipped his middle finger between her dripping folds, the slick walls feeling like silk against his finger.

"You're so wet." This fact spurred him on. Because it was no longer some one-sided lust, but something between two willing partners.

She desired him.

He stroked the soft core, and to her great horror, her body reacted the same way it did the previous night, she jolted up; her senses heightened, her stimulation level high.

His well-lubricated finger moved to her nub, and this time he touched it directly without her flinching away. It was new, painful, but felt good all the same. Her eyes were screwed securely, and she bit her lips hard so as to not scream.

As she ground against his hand, milking the digits that entered her, he grew hard. She was driving him over the edge with her soft sighs.

"Open your eyes," he commanded, "Look at me."

Then he murmured in her ears, "I'll be damned if I can't see your face again. I won't let you forget who gave you pleasure." His free hand moved to her chin, and tilted it back so that her head was resting against his shoulder. In her impassioned state, he brushed his finger against her open mouth. Her tongue flickered out to touch the top of his finger. Aiden moaned in response.

She opened her eyes slowly to his command, long enough to see herself wrapped in his arms, completely relaxed, completely aroused, her hair falling in messy waves around her head.

But there was a red stain on the bed, right in front of where he was fingering her. Crimson. Set. It was all the real. It was a reminder that yesterday, she had been a virgin, and today, she was...

"Stop."

Despite her body about to climax for the second time, she stopped herself. This was real. This was wrong.

Despite the feelings inside.

He suppressed a growl that was threatening to erupt from his throat. "What now?" He asked irritably.

"We need to stop."

"Why? Weren't you not whimpering moments ago?"

She leapt out of his reach, successful this time and started back at him. She tried not to look at his pented boxers.

"I'm sorry." She said finally, before exiting her room, tears welling up in her eyes.

Xxx

Locking herself in the downstairs bathroom, Amy slid down the wall into a crumpled heap of tears and numbness.

There was a sudden knock on the door.

"Go away." Amy moaned with finality. Why can't he just leave me alone?

"What's wrong?" Replied her mother's soft worried voice.

"Sorry. I'm just-just having some stomach pains right now. I'll be out in a moment."

"Okay honey. I made you favorite strawberry pancakes with pecan butter. It'll make you feel better."

"Okay."

Feeling ill, she heaved into the toilet but came up dry. She braced herself for the next onset of excruciating pain climbing up her throat, sagging against the toilet to keep herself from collapsing on the cold floor. The pain in the back of her throat felt like a metal rake scratching against it, brusquely. Finally she deemed it okay to go out for breakfast. She didn't want to ruin her mom's joy of her daughter's return.

The family was united again.

Boy, did that sound so wrong now.

She walked into the dining room and took a seat at the head of the table. She wrapped the bathrobe she had found hanging in the bathroom tightly around her body, hoping to hide any marks left by the previous evening. She composed herself, using the linen set out to dab at the corner of her mouth delicately. She smoothed out her hair self-consciously, afraid that something would give her away.

"Aiden! Luke! Come down for breakfast!" Her mother yelled.

Her stepfather, Aiden's father, Luke arrived and sat beside her.

"How was your first year away from home, Amy?" He asked, digging his knife into a stack of fluffy pancakes.

"Really good."

"I'm sure you aced your finals." He said with a pleasant wink.

"I hope so." She responded with a weak smile.

"So, what are you plans for this summer?"

"Maggie's offered me an intern position."

"That's great! Close-by. You're mom will love it. You guys will have plenty of time to do the 'girl things' she's always so eager for."

"Yeah." She added as an afterthought, not really paying attention to her well-meaning stepfather. She really just wasn't in the mood.

Her heart sank a little when she saw Aiden stroll to the other end of the table, separating himself from the rest of them, like an island. With the light casting a warm glow into the room, he looked... handsome.

She hadn't noticed before.

Or chose to ignore, since he had been such an arrogant, hurtful boy.

She wolfed down her pancakes, wiped her mouth, gave her mom a neutral excuse and headed for her bedroom.

xxx

Everything was in place.

Aiden's strewn clothing was gone.

Her pillows fluffed. Her coverlet folded over her bed neatly. Mechanically, her hand lifted the cover to see the blood. It was like a train wreck. It reminded her that this was wrong. Blood.

They weren't related by blood...

But by law.

But the white sheet had been replaced by a small flower printed sheet, smoothed trimly so that there were no creases. Her head twisted around to see where that sheet had gone.

Her eyes settled upon her small balcony. It was drying on a rack outside.

Unable to comprehend this, this was going against everything she thought of him. She backed away, and stood rooted to the threshold of her bedroom. What did this mean? He was her mean, careless stepbrother. Why was he doing this? Showing her that he was different?

This wasn't supposed to mean anything. An accident. He was supposed to just leave it as is. Leave her to clean up the mess alone. So she could hate him for being selfish, egotistical, reckless...

Aiden cleared his throat behind her. Startled, Amy jumped like a restless doe.

She felt him move in behind her and wrap his arms around her waist loosely, before he began to sway them slightly, closely, as one.

"Stop they might see us." She said, quietly. Her head slanting backward against his chest when his hand grazed her nervous stomach. She whimpered.

Why was she acting like this? Like this was something to hide? ...they might see us... This was wrong! This was not supposed to happen! She was supposed to just say 'No.'

She could feel the pout of his lips grow into an amused smile across her neck, the softness contrasted by his coarse stubble.

"They'll be out all day. They are going furniture shopping in the country."

"No."

"Yes." He shifted so that she could feel his hardness pressing firmly into her the arch of her back. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"I mean after yesterday. Your color doesn't look too good."

Since when could he tell if she was feeling good or not. "I'm fine," she reiterated.

Amused at her prudish reaction, he spun her around in his arms, and tilted her chin to look up at him, into his deep, stormy eyes. Seeing that she was anything but fine, he sat the both of them on the edge of her bed.

"I'm not sorry." He said unwaveringly, when he wrapped his arms around her. He slipped the terry cloth robe effortlessly off her shoulder and leaned his cheek against her bare shoulder before placing a chaste kiss on the heated skin. I'm not sorry for wanting you. I'm not sorry for acting upon it. I've never been sorry for behaving the way I do.

But I am sorry for mistreating you before.

But that was to scare you away from this. I used all my willpower to stop myself.

But that willpower is shattered.

She was motionless, unable to look at him, instead staring at her bare feet, her chipped nail polish.

He brushed her wayward long bangs behind her ears, only to have them fall again, before lifting her chin to look up at him again. His eyes searched hers, and seeking out the answer, he pressed his lips against hers. Soft. Tentative. Like he was waiting for something.

If she just gave him the physical response that he wanted - that was so blatant in his eyes - maybe he'd give up. Yeah, maybe that was the solution to this problem. To act as still and stoic, like a doll. Indifferent. Impassive. Maybe he wouldn't want her anymore. Maybe because he was feeding off the power, the rush, of being her first, of her overt enthusiastic reaction the previous night, or her inexperience.

It was probably a whole ego boost.

Then why did he clean up her bedroom. Why wasn't he off bragging to his friends, tweeting about it, using it to blackmail her? Why was he making sure she was alright after last night?

His hands moved to unfasten her robe. Parting the fabric, it fell before she could clutch it tightly to her body, like a shield.

He picked her up with ease, giving her no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck, legs around his waist, to prevent her self from falling backward, though he would have never let that happen. His lips continued to trail feather light kisses across her skin, from the bridge of her nose down to her collarbone, nipping at the thin skin that lay taut over bone.

She didn't want this. She didn't want what he made her feel.

Alive.

Why didn't he just take what he wanted and leave? She could tell that he was holding back. These kisses were so gentle when she knew all he wanted was to kiss her roughly, plunge his tongue into her mouth, ruthless. And as she tried to picture her Henry commanding her body, she found herself unable to imagine him.

Where did he go?

It was like last night had erased all memories of Henry.

She could only see Aiden.

He swiped the bathrobe to the floor before lifting the covers and settling her into the center of the bed. He divested himself of his garments save for his boxer-briefs. Before she could avert her eyes, he stood in front of her undaunted, a finely sculpted piece of marble. She could trace each groove that outlined the muscles of his chest. The rise and fall of his chest was mesmerizing. And when her eyes fell lower, she could see his arousal, completely outlined. Embarrassed, she looked away. Rampant, deviant thoughts plagued her mind. How had that fit into her so easily last night?

He moved to the bed on all fours, sliding his hands from her ankles to her hip, where his fingers lingered, tracing the shape of her panties. When they dipped into the delta created by her legs tightly pressed against each other, they teased the fabric covering her essence. Kneeling above her, he caught the hem of her shirt in his teeth and lifted it higher, higher until they were over her heaving breasts. His gaze traveled over them before he decided to tease her nipples to aching peaks with his expert tongue. Her breasts were more beautiful that he could have ever imagined, small by standards but fitting perfectly into his hands.

It was meant to be.

She couldn't fight it. The moans threatening to escape her throat when his teeth grazed the very sensitive skin. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't be indifferent to his touches, his soft eyes gazing into hers, searching her soul.

He couldn't hold out. Damn her, he wanted to make his pleasurable for her, but the way she was reacting, again, arching toward him, releasing soft, feline moans, it was driving him wild.

He was going to cum in his boxers if she continued. She was igniting in him the impossible, burning need to be inside her, to pound into her like a cruel animal and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, lick the curve of her earlobe, and lose himself in her turbulent eyes. All these contrasting feelings diffusing inside him.
They were a contrast. He couldn't get enough. She was his ecstasy. Last night was only a taste.

At this rate, it was going to be a while before he could please her fully. He could barely stop himself from cumming outside her.

But he needed to prove to her that he really wanted her, not just her body.

With a new sense of determination, he moved down her quivering body, struggling to keep his cock still. Every time it moved, he felt himself lost an ounce of restraint. "Open for me," he groaned. When she parted her legs hesitantly, he swiftly parted her folds to find the hooded button. In the daylight, he saw it easily and slid his tongue around it teasingly. He flicked his tongue over the small bud to test her reaction. She was ready, already hanging on the precarious edge. Proficiently, his combination of sucking and licking brought a cry of distressed need from the woman beneath him. He was completely floored that her body reacted so easily to his touches. She was wriggling anxiously. It was incredible to see someone usually so composed, completely broken down, uninhibited. He wondered sinfully if just blowing air across her sensitized skin would cause her to writhe like she was now. When she became insistent, her hip bucking frantically, he just held out his tongue for her to grind against, drawing out soft cries from her.

She could feel sensation returning inside her. She couldn't keep her hips from thrusting into his face, making herself hate him, hate her self, for being so receptive, so weak to his touch. She craved this closeness.

The rush overwhelmed her, a wave of unwanted ecstasy. She sobbed to no avail, "No!" The pleasure once again thrummed through her like a freight train, relentless.

Xxx

A/N: I cut off at a really... climactic moment. Thanks again for reading. Thanks to a few reviews (Peterspeter and Anon) and some users' favorite-ing the story, I wrote more! Thankies!

I believe there will be one more part. :) The more reviews, the more motivation... hint, hint.