by Jade Sinner
"And turn off that damn music," I add as I turn back toward the house. Fuck, I sound like an old man, not a twenty-nine-year-old.
The music fades enough that I can hear her friend. "See ya later, Lace. You better find out what your uncle wants."
I don't turn around as I leave the sound of shifting chairs and feminine whispers outside and walk back to my office.
Each minute I wait my cock grows harder and harder, as if I even thought that was possible.
Before everything happened, before both of our parents died, I dated all the time. After all, I was the Bishop heir, the honored son born late in life to tycoon Billings Bishop. Women of all ages willingly spread their legs for me.
That was three years ago. When my fucking world imploded, so did my sex life. It's difficult to get it up when you suddenly have more responsibility than you can handle. And then once it all evened out, once I got a handle on everything, I saw the women for what they were, sluts after my name and money. That was until Lacy, until I saw her differently.
No longer is she just my niece, my stepsister's daughter. Lacy is a woman.
Her name isn't Bishop, but it could be. And as for the money, she has that, or will when she gets a few years older.
The door to my office opens, slowly, very fucking slowly, and my focus zeroes in on my niece.
Amused, I lean back in my chair and wait. I'm disappointed that she has a large beach towel now wrapped around her body, but that's all right. I know it won't be there long. With her sunglasses now on her head, wide orbits of green—turquoise, really, the color of water in the Caribbean—stare back at me.
"Shut the door," I say.
"I-I'm sorry, Uncle Max."
Her arms are covered with goose bumps, and I can't help but wonder if the cause is the air-conditioning or me. I know I can be intimidating in business. It's what I do, but is Lacy anxious?
Maybe she should be.
As pool water drips from her long hair, a small puddle begins to form near her bare feet.
I nod my head and tilt my eyes toward the floor. "You're dripping."
Lacy pulls the edge of the towel, the part tucked near her boobs, and unwraps her body. It's like fucking Christmas, and I can't help but stare as she drops to her knees to dry the floor.
Lacy on her knees. It's every man's fantasy.
Fuck that!
It's my fantasy. I'll kill any other man who has fantasies about my niece, rip them apart, limb by limb.
"Come here," I demand.
As Lacy starts to stand, I correct her. "No, Lacy, stay on your knees. Crawl to me."
Her cheeks flush as her turquoise eyes look down and then back up, questioning me through her long lashes. She seems to be considering what I'm telling her to do, her mind fighting what we both know is proper and what our bodies crave. I know it isn't just mine, not just my dick that wants to slide into her warm, wet cunt, because I can smell her desire. Moments earlier, as she turned her ass toward me wiping the floor, I saw the wetness on the crotch of her bathing suit. It isn't from the pool; if it were, it wouldn't be a different shade than the rest of her suit. If it were from the pool, her slender thighs wouldn't glisten as they slide nervously over one another.
Taking a deep breath, she begins crawling forward. Her pert, round tits sway, precariously hanging from the hammock of her bikini top as she nears my chair. I spread my legs wide, as inch by inch she moves. Finally she's eye level with my straining cock. Has she ever seen a man's dick, a real man, not some boy?
I clench my teeth. The thought of a boy's cock near her fills me with inexplicable rage.
I push away the unease that threatens to derail my desires and ask her what I need to know. "Do you see what you do to me?"
Her eyes veil as she nods, swallowing visibly.
"With you walking around here in nearly nothing, how am I supposed to get any work done?"
Her hands are still on the floor, as she looks up at me from all fours. "I'm sorry, Uncle Max. I could—" Her voice stammers. "—h-help you."
My heart thumps with electricity, the jolt painful as it travels directly to my cock. Soon the poor zipper won't hold. I imagine the metal teeth breaking, individual pieces scattering upon the floor as my dick springs free.
"Sit up, Lace, on your knees."
She does as I say, her back straight as her painted toes offer her support and her firm ass rests on the back of her calves.
"Tell me the truth, have you ever 'helped a man out' before?"
Again, she swallows. Time stands still until she shakes her head slowly, her long wet hair skirting over her back, past the small ties of material holding her tits captive. Damn, she's killing me.
"Has anyone ever 'helped you out'?"
This time her gaze leaves mine. "Yes." Her answer is barely a whisper.
I grip the arms of my large throne-like chair as she kneels at my feet. My teeth clench and I feel my skin prickle. "Who? Tell me."
I may not have the right to demand such answers, but at the moment, I don't give a fuck.
When she doesn't answer, I lean forward and grab her chin. Pinching it forcefully between my thumb and first finger, I pull her green-blue eyes toward mine. "Tell me. Tell me who's touched you and where."
Her boobs heave as she nervously breathes, her warm exhale blowing across my grip.
When she doesn't answer, I pinch her chin tighter. "Tell me."
"Me, Uncle Max. I'm the one who's touched me."
Relief and heat flood my nervous system. "Where, Lace? Tell me where you've touched yourself."
"In bed, in the shower—"
She knows damn well that isn't what I mean. I interrupt, narrowing my eyes. "Your tits? Your pussy?"
Lacy nods, her lip again disappearing behind her teeth as her face is still held captive by my grip.
"Say it."
"M-my tits and my pussy."
"Do you make yourself cum?"
"Sometimes," she admits.
Sometimes? I fucking could make her cum every time, a thousand times, anytime I want. And I want.
Leaning back again, I say, "Stand up and show me."
She inhales sharply. The sound of my rushing blood dominates my hearing, which is surprising given that I'd think all my blood is in my dick with the way it's throbbing. Lacy slowly stands, using my knees to help her rise.
Her innocent touch is erotic as she pushes herself up. Once standing, she dips her fingers beneath the white material.
"No, Lace. I can't see under your suit."
Slowly, she reaches for the side ties on her hips. Small little bows connected to the front and back of her suit. As she pulls the string, the material falls open, exposing light golden curls. Next, she reaches for the tie on the other side. As it unties, the bottom of her suit falls to the floor and though I barely move, I hear her gulp for air.
"If I pick that up," I ask, "will it be wet?" I hold her gaze. "And not from the pool. I know you know what I'm asking. Lacy, are you turned on?"
Pink fills her cheeks, telling me what her words can't. She is turned on as well as embarrassed. Her eyes fill with emotions she's incapable of vocalizing.
I scoot the chair closer, backing her against the edge of my desk, her blonde bush in front of me and her thighs pressed together creating the perfect V. She doesn't need to tell me she's aroused. Her sweet scent fills my lungs. I long to taste her cum and feel her pussy shudder around my tongue and cock.
"Your tits," I say.
Lacy looks at me, her turquoise eyes questioning.
"You said you touch your tits. I want to see that, too."
She nods as she reaches for the tie behind her neck and pulls. The two triangles of white fall forward, revealing the most perfect boobs I knew she's been hiding.
"Turn around."
Lacy doesn't hesitate as she turns, the edge of my desk against her bare thighs and her ass in my face. I reach for the last string still securing her suit and pull. Fully exposed, Lacy is my fantasy and my reality
.
"I'm going to touch you."
It isn't a question, yet it is. If she says no, I could walk away, and we could pretend this never happened.
"OK." Her answer is soft but strong.
I sigh. Who the fuck am I kidding? I can barely sit with the hard-on I'm sporting. Walking away would never be an option.
Velvety soft. I reach out, touching her skin that glows with the warmth of the afternoon sun. Running my hands down her arms, her body shivers, small hairs stand on end as goose bumps materialize. Moving her still damp hair to the side, I expose her neck. Standing, I move my lips close to her ear. "I want to watch you, to see how you touch yourself."
A small whimper fills the room as her head wobbles backward.
"But first, I need to touch you, to taste you."
When she didn't argue, I licked her sensitive flesh, the area behind her ear. "Don't move," I warn. "Hold on to the edge of my desk."
Lacy nods as I direct her hands to the edge of the rounded glass, pressing her fingers to grip tighter.
Once she is secure, I move south, kisses and bites, tasting the chlorine from the pool water as well as her natural flavor. Lower I go, until I'm at the small of her back, her ass cheeks firm and tight, quivering with anticipation.
Using my knee, I spread her feet and legs farther apart. Her sweet fragrance, like nectar, fills my lungs as my nose brushes against her ass. I push her forward, exposing her pink glistening pussy, her cum dripping down her thighs.
"My niece is a naughty, dirty girl. Isn't she?"
Lacy doesn't answer but her legs quake with my breath on her cunt.
"Say it. Tell me you want this. Tell me you're a dirty slut, but only for your Uncle Max."
"I-I am."
My fingers intertwine in her long blonde hair, wrenching her head backward. "You are what?"
"I'm your slut, Uncle Max. I want to be."
Cum leaks from my cock, still miraculously confined. If this continues much longer, I'm sure it'll look like I peed my jeans. Any friction and I'll come all over myself.
Unable to resist any longer, my tongue teases the folds of her young, tight cunt, tasting heaven. Creme brulee doesn't taste as sweet.
Lacy gasps as I bury my face in her pussy, my tongue searching in and out, lapping her juices while they coat my chin. Her grip of the desk tightens as the walls of her cunt convulse. She is close, but I'm not ready for her to cum. Not yet.
"Damn, you taste so good."
Loosening her fingers, I spin her back around. The way her light hair contrasts to her flushed cheeks as her tits heave with heavy breathing, pushes my cock to near explosion.
I lift Lacy to the desk, putting her ass on the edge, and I sit back in my chair. Next, I pull her feet to my thighs. Spreading her legs, I push her stomach slightly back until I can see all of her, both of her needy holes. Her pussy is pink and trembling as cum shamelessly drips, coating her tight puckered hole, leaking onto the glass-top desk, and finally falling onto the floor.
I shake my head. "My little slut is so fucking needy. You're making a mess."
Lacy nods. "I'll clean it."
"Yes, you will. But you have other duties first."
Her eyes widen expectedly.
"It's time to show me what I want to see."
Releasing June 30, 2016
“Ryan.”
I hear a woman saying my name but I can’t open my eyes. Both lids weigh a ton. Hard as I try, I just can’t make the fuckers open.
“Is it normal for him to be so groggy?”
I recognize my mom’s voice and hear the worry in her tone. What is going on? Why am I so sleepy? And why the hell can’t I open my eyes?
“Nothing’s wrong. He’s only been out of surgery fifteen minutes. Some people are slower than others to wake up after anesthesia.”
Oh, right. I had surgery on my fucked-up shoulder. At least it’s not hurting.
“Ryan, I need to get your vital signs again.”
Again? Guess I’ve been out cold; I don’t remember having my blood pressure taken at all.
My upper arm is squeezed tightly and then released. “Ry … annn. Think you can wake up and look at me?”
The woman’s voice is soft and sweet, very much like a little girl’s. And so familiar. Makes me want to try harder to open my eyes so I can see her.
I successfully peek through one and then both eyes after several attempts. My vision is blurry, so I blink a few times to bring the woman into focus.
“Hey there. Looks like someone is trying to wake up.”
I’m sleepy as fuck but I fight to keep my eyes open so I can make out the woman’s face. “My name’s Ash. I’m your recovery room nurse.”
Her long honey-blonde hair has fallen forward and is acting as a veil to hide her face as she leans over me. I want so badly to push it away so I can see what she looks like. I wonder if she has an angel’s face to go along with that soft-spoken voice.
“Assh.” My tongue is still thick from anesthesia so her name comes out slurred and sounding more like Ass. Even sedated, I know that’s not great.
She giggles before tossing her hair over her shoulder so she can look at me. “Do you need something?”
I blink again to bring her face into focus. Porcelain skin. Rosy cheeks. I don’t know if I’m still disoriented from the anesthesia or not but I can’t give her eye color a name. They’re a peculiar mix of green and brown with golden flecks. Hazel, I think? “You…are…beautiful.” Wow. I was thinking that—and then poof—the words came tumbling out of my mouth.
Her expression changes to one I can’t place. Maybe a cross between concentration and confusion? “They must have given you some good drugs in surgery.”
“No, honey, that’s my son all the time. I’m not the least bit shocked he’s barely awake after anesthesia and already flirting with a pretty girl.”
OK. I can’t be hallucinating if my mom said that. “See? She thinks you’re pretty too. And she hasn’t had drugs.” I’ll be glad when I can hold my eyes open for more than a few seconds so I can get a better look at her.
“I need to look at your dressing.” My nurse leans over and pulls the top of my hospital gown open to inspect my arm and shoulder. She takes a pen from her pocket and draws a circle on my bandage.
“Looks OK?” Fuck, she smells good. I open my eyes, and damn, her tits are right there in my face.
“All good.” She glances at me and then quickly looks away when our eyes connect. “How’d you mess up your rotator cuff? Chasing too many girls?” Her question could be taken as comical but her tone lacks humor.
“Pitching for the Mets.” That earns a smile from her. But also a head shake.
“Ah, you are a funny one.”
I close my eyes when a wave of drowsiness rushes over me. “Old pitching injury.”
“Which he re-injured by throwing a speed ball.” Mom hasn’t been shy about voicing her aggravation with me. “Doctors warned him over and over that he was going to do serious damage if he didn’t stop pitching. But did he listen?”
“I guess you’ll listen now.” She closes my gown and steps away as she puts her hands on her hips. “Dressing looks good. Need anything? Head of the bed up some more? Ice chips? Bathroom?” What’s she going to do for me in the bathroom? Hold my dick for me? Maybe I need to take a piss if that’s the case. I wouldn’t mind her hand on my cock.
Mom’s phone vibrates. “This is Emma texting. She wants to come back to see you so I’m going to swap places with her.”
My nurse puts the call thing in my good hand. “I’m stepping out so push that button or have your girlfriend come to the desk if you need anything.”
“OK.” Wait. I don’t have a girlfriend. I open my eyes to correct her but she’s already gone from my room. Well, damn!
She’ll be back in a few minutes to get my vital signs. I’ll set her straight then. Unless I nod off again and miss her. Or forget. Shit.
My sister pulls back the curta
in and comes into my recovery room. “Hey. How is Coach Briggs feeling?”
“Emma, you have to tell the nurse you’re not my girlfriend if I fall asleep.”
My sister’s head tilts as she smiles. “You always say the craziest shit after anesthesia. I should be recording this so I can put it on YouTube. Or send it in to that TV show where you can win ten thousand dollars for the funniest video.”
I’m not too sedated to give Emma the finger. “I’m not talking crazy shit. My nurse thinks you’re my girlfriend.”
“So?”
“I don’t want her to think I’m unavailable.”
Emma waddles over and sits in the chair next to my bed. “For real, Ryan? You just woke up from surgery and you’re chasing a piece of ass?”
Yeah, I guess I am. “Come on. Do it for me, squirt. Ash will be back in a few minutes.”
She rolls her eyes. “OK. Whatever.”
Emma’s phone vibrates and she smiles as she thumbs a reply. “This is Ben checking in on you. I can’t wait to see what he says about your hitting on your nurse two seconds after surgery.”
Ben and Emma have been married six months. She’s eight months pregnant. I think the fucker knocked her up on purpose. And she let him.
I’m still pissed off that Ben was screwing with my baby sister behind my back but I guess I’m starting to get over it. Not like I really have a choice. They’re married with a baby on the way. My nephew, Benji, will be making his debut in a few weeks.
I’m not ready to admit it to either of them but I actually like my best friend being married to my little sister. I know he’ll take care of her—he always has—so that means I don’t have to worry about other dicks screwing with her.
“Knock, knock,” my nurse says a moment before she pulls the curtain open. Sort of weird there’s only three walls and some hanging fabric separating all the patients. “Time for vitals again.”
I can tell the anesthesia is wearing off. Or maybe it’s just this beautiful woman making me more alert.
She looks at Emma and her eyes immediately dart to her stomach. I clear my throat, the prompt for my sister to clear up the girlfriend confusion. “Hello. I’m Emma, his sister.”
