by Fiona Cole
I definitely missed the hugs.
I missed her body. I’d only had it for a few days, but it’d been enough to become ingrained in my identity.
More than her body, I missed her mind—her soul. I missed our talks. The debates and plans for places we still wanted to see.
She’d found a hole I hadn’t known was there and burrowed herself inside me. Before her, it’d been irrelevant, and now, it yawned like a gaping bullet wound I ached for her to wrap her arms around and make better.
She had so much to give—so much to still do. No one had just let her go for it with their full support. She did all her actions and created all her success in defiance. More of a fuck you to everyone she wanted to prove wrong rather than actually making decisions about what she wanted her future to be. I hated how it all played out but remembering her soft thank you at the end was the silver lining.
Laughter echoed through the screen door out back, pulling me from the depressing thoughts that I couldn’t chase away. I dropped my bag at the steps and walked down the hall to make sure all was well. I didn’t speed up just to see her. It was to make sure a rave wasn’t destroying my barely used backyard.
Not ready to announce my presence, I stood back a bit from the window and almost swallowed my tongue.
The two blondes from her work splashed around in the pool, and another girl and guy I didn’t know sat on the edge talking to Arabella and fucking Xander. Arabella hunched over, gripping the ledge, looking to be about two seconds away from her breasts spilling out of the tiny scraps of fabric. The top was more string than anything else. The black triangles stood out, stark against her pale skin, making the material look even smaller.
Fuck me. If I’d stumbled upon her like this pre-battle, I’d assume she wore that bathing suit to torture me more. But she’d stopped the past few days, and I knew she wore that suit for her. I refused to think she wore it for Xander.
Her smirk firmly in place, I knew the Instagram version of Arabella sat out there, and I hated it. I hated the way every man, including me, stopped to stare at her breasts swaying when she reached an arm up to brush her hair back. I hated the way Xander bumped his shoulder to hers and leaned in to say something close to her ear.
I hated how fake I knew it was. I hated it all.
Grabbing a beer, I cracked it open and made my way out.
“Dr. Deander,” one of the blonde’s shouted. “Are you coming to swim, too?”
“As much as I appreciate the offer, I’ll leave the pool to you guys.”
“Boo,” she pouted. “I was hoping to have a partner to play chicken with.”
“Sorry to let you down. Maybe next time.”
The false offer settled her enough to give her attention back to the other blonde, leaving me to shift my attention to Arabella.
For one moment, I saw the girl from before. I saw the clenched jaw. I saw the spark of obstinance like she wanted to do something to lay claim to me in front of her coworker, but just as quick, she shut it down, giving me the same neutral smile she gave everyone else at the pool.
“Thanks for letting us use your pool, Dr. Deander,” Xander said.
“Of course.”
Xander poked Arabella in the ribs, making a joke about being her partner in chicken, his eyes glued to her swaying breasts. It took all I had to not call him on it and demanded she put on a shirt.
I hated that she flirted back. I hated that she didn’t taunt me. Unlike the mature adult I claimed to be, jealousy sparked. I wanted her to show me she wanted me because, despite it being wrong, I couldn’t stop wanting her.
We’d connected on a level I hadn’t seen coming and watching her flirt with someone else was too much.
With a muttered offer to let me know if they needed anything, I went inside, grabbing another beer on my way. Once I changed, I headed to my office, the one room without any windows looking into the backyard and shut the door to block out any sound.
I pulled up emails, watched a show on Netflix, googled tickets to fly to a remote island and forget the last couple of months. None of it helped, and after only a couple hours, I found myself making my way downstairs again. I promised I’d run down to grab a beer and head back up.
All that went to shit when I rounded the corner to the kitchen and found her standing in front of the sink, her back to me, the bottom of her bikini just as revealing as the top. The firm globes of her ass almost completely bare, firm like a ripe peach I wanted to fall to my knees and sink my teeth into. So pale I wanted to have her bend over, brace her hands on the counter, and spank her for each time I’d had to jack off over the last few weeks, just so I could watch the red bloom beautifully against her skin.
As if my body had enough of my mind holding back, it moved without thought to her, like a moth to a flame. She was so focused on what she was doing she didn’t notice my approach until I caged her in, my hands resting on the counter on either side of her, my body inches from pressing into hers.
She gasped and looked to the side, her soft hair brushing across my face. Leaning in closer until my lips almost touched her ear, I asked, “Where’s your boy toy?”
“What?” she asked, her voice low and rough, letting me know she was just as affected as me.
“Xander.”
“Are you jealous?” she snipped.
I ran my nose against the soft skin of her cheek, wanting to drown in the scent of coconut and her. “You know I am.”
She forced her way around, leaning back to stare up into my eyes. Unable to help it, my gaze dropped down her body, groaning at the close up of her breasts. I grew harder, taking in the soft indents on her hips, remembering how I held her there as I fucked her from behind. Her nipples hardened under the thin material of her top as I took her in, and I clenched the counter to stop from pulling her bottoms aside to find out if her pussy missed me as much as her nipples did.
Coasting up her neck, past her parted lips, I finally met her eyes, finding them soft and wanting. I wanted to drown in them, give her everything and more. The need bloomed from my chest, down my arms, urging me to just do it. A flicker of movement from the window pulled my attention to Xander, reigniting my jealousy.
“Willem.” She said my name softly like a plea.
The warmth filling me ignited with a tinge of fire from watching Xander touch her earlier.
“Will you let him fuck you?”
She blinked, her eyes widening. “Wha—”
“Will you let him slip your panties aside and touch you? Will you let him be the second man to taste your pretty little pussy?” I leaned in closer, crowding her back. Her hands landed on my chest, and I brushed my lips past her cheek without kissing anything. “Will you come for him like you did me? Hold him where you want him and ride his face?”
Her nails dug in, making us both groan. “Please, Willem.”
Unable to stand it anymore, I caved and found her mouth with mine. She met me halfway, the kiss hard and desperate. Our lips mashed without finesse, our tongues dueling for dominance, tasting each other like we may never get to again. She pushed off the counter, pressing against my hard cock, her soft breasts against my chest.
Needing to feel them, I finally let go of the counter and filled my hands with her body. I kissed down her neck and tugged the fabric aside, baring her pale nipple.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
She thrust herself up toward my mouth and ground against my groin.
The flash of Xander watching her earlier had me wanting to lay claim—to mark her as mine. I bit and sucked at her nipple, torturing the tip with my mouth as my hand played with the other before moving my lips just under the nipple where it couldn’t be seen in the bathing suit, but impossible to ignore without it.
Without any regrets, I sucked and sucked, leaving my mark. Pleased with my work, I moved to the other side and repeated the process. By the time I’d finished, she had one leg over my hip, her wet pussy soaking through her suit, and my jeans.
I was ready to lift her
to the counter and fuck her right there with her guests outside the window. Hell, I didn’t care if they came in. They could watch me make her mine. They could watch her fall apart for me like she did with no one else.
“Bella,” one of the girls called from outside, like a bucket of cold water over the moment. As if that wasn’t bad enough, they pretty much handed us a live wire and doused us again, shocking us back to reality with their next words. “Your dad is calling.”
Her dad.
My stepbrother, who I admired. Who helped me when I struggled. Who’d never forgive what I was doing to his daughter if he found out.
“Shit,” I whispered.
With that reminder, I tugged the tiny triangles back over her breasts and stepped back, unable to meet her eyes.
“Will,” she almost pleaded.
“Your friends are waiting.”
“Will, please, don’t.”
How could I not? Just because my caveman needs outweighed my ability to make a decision about right and wrong didn’t change our situation. Even if I was her teacher. Even if I was too old for her. Even if we could move past that. How did we move past her family? My only family?
I needed to get back under control and let her be with someone less complicated. Even if it hurt.
I turned to walk out, but stopped before leaving the kitchen, issuing one rule to save my sanity. “Just no sex in the house.”
And like the mature adult I was, I ran, promising to stay in my room the rest of the night. And unlike all the other promises we’d made, I intended to keep this one. For both our sakes.
Thirteen
Arabella
Son-of-a-mother-fucking-bitch.
If I’d ever wanted to cuss out my dad before, it didn’t come close compared to now. Finally, after weeks of wanting and fighting and then deciding to sit back to stop chasing, everything I wanted happened. Willem was kissing me. Willem was touching me. Willem was back in my arms, making it right again.
Only to pull back one more time, demanding not to fuck in the house. Like he didn’t even care if I slept with Xander. It pissed me off. His hot and cold and back to hot was like oxygen to a fire. After our argument, I’d promised to step back, to stop torturing him, and let it be. I’d hoped that we’d find our norm again and it would work out. The connection we’d formed so quickly couldn’t be denied for long, and I’d pushed for it with sex, but the reality was that we hadn’t gotten there with sex. We’d gotten there by listening to each other, by spending time and falling for each other.
The sex had been the culmination of all that, and I’d wanted to recreate that bond no matter how much time it took.
That had been the plan until he’d come into the kitchen, reigniting the fire in me. He’d doused the waiting embers in gasoline, and between the need and frustration and want, I was ready to explode.
The stubborn, petulant side of me considered defying him and taking Xander to my room. It’d serve him right to know Xander would be the one to pleasure me—to see my naked body. He’d be the one sucking on my brea—
“No,” I breathed.
A thought slammed in my head, stopping my revenge plot like a scratched record. The fantasy of Xander being the one to stare at my breasts had me wondering what he would see. The spot where Willem’s mouth clung moments ago tingled.
“No. He wouldn’t.” I ran down the hall to the bathroom and closed the door, tugging my top aside, and sure enough, two hickeys decorated the underside of my breasts, like stark beacons laying claim to me so no one else could.
“That mother fucker.”
I almost ran straight upstairs, ready for battle. But the laughter from out back reminded me of my guests—guests I needed to leave because there was no way I could shove anything down for later.
A hurricane of emotions whirled inside me, growing bigger with each step to the backyard, so when I finally made it out, all semblance of politeness was gone.
“Everyone needs to leave.”
Five confused faces turned my way, but I didn’t care. I needed them gone because I needed privacy for the explosion that lingered on the horizon.
“Please,” I added, trying to soften the amount of crazy pouring off me. “Something came up.”
It took less than five minutes for everyone to pile out. Five minutes too long where I rudely cut off any questions or comments, too focused on what was to come.
Willem Deander had cared for me, fucked me, shut me down, and made me feel immature. He’d ignored me and embarrassed me—when I deserved it—and lit a fire in me again just to shut it down—again. He’d told me not to fuck anyone in his house, knowing damn well I couldn’t because he’d marked me anyway.
My independence raged at being controlled with his backhanded actions. My body burned from what he’d done, remembering his mouth on me. My heart thudded harder than before because he cared, but I was terrified it wasn’t enough.
Like all other times in my life, stubbornness and arrogance won out. So, once everyone cleared the driveway, I stomped up the stairs right to his room and flung the door open, storming in.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He jerked up, eyes wide, setting his book aside. “What?”
“What? You don’t want me, but no one else can have me?”
“Arabella,” he sighed my name and stood from the chair by the window.
“Don’t Arabella me. You fucking marked me and then left me. What if I wanted to fuck Xander tonight? What if I did want him to eat my pussy so I could ride his face.” His fists clenched, and victory sparked, knowing I was getting to him. I’d backed off and look where that got us. I was tired of running. We were facing this. “Maybe I wanted to sit on his cock as he sucked my tits. Maybe I wanted to see if it felt as good when he bit them as when you did.”
“Stop,” he growled, taking two challenging steps closer.
“Why? Why fucking should I?”
“Because us together is wrong. I’m older than you. I’m your uncle.”
“Oh, here we go,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so adamant about clinging to this stupid thought that I’m actually your niece.” When he didn’t answer, I pushed harder, needing a reaction, knowing it was a weak excuse and wanting him to finally admit it. “Is it because secretly you like it? Does it turn you on thinking of me as your niece? Another forbidden fantasy?”
His warning glare only spurred me on, and he knew it, my smirk a warning for what was to come. We both knew he didn’t want this scene, but I’d be damned if I was the first one to cave. I went to the bed, undoing my bikini top, letting it fall to the floor on the way.
“Stop,” he almost pleaded.
Instead, I rested my hands against the mattress and pushed my ass out. “Come on, Uncle Willem. Come fuck your little niece.”
“Don’t call me that,” he growled.
Giving him my best pout, I spread my legs wider. “I’ve been a bad girl, Uncle Willem. Will you spank me?”
Two more steps and he closed the distance between us, digging his hand in my hair and pulling me up against him, so he could issue his order in my ear. “Stop calling me that.”
Oh no. I wasn’t done yet.
I slid my hands up my stomach to my breasts, fingering my nipples, feeling his moan vibrate against my back. “Please, Uncle Willem. Make my little girl pussy feel better. Fill your niece’s tiny cunt with your big fat cock.”
His head dropped into my neck and his hands came up to cover mine, halting their movement by slipping his fingers between mine, almost clinging to me. “Arabella. Please,” he begged. “You know I don’t want that. You know it’s just a thin excuse to try and keep some distance. You know I want you—the woman.”
The sincerity in his voice—the admission of the truth—finally broke through. The way he clung to me like a man on the edge of losing it had me extracting myself from his grip and turning in his arms, pulling him into my tightest embrace.
&nbs
p; Just like before it all went to shit, his arms wrapped around me, holding me almost too tight.
But I didn’t care. If he held me so tight, I took my last breath in his arms, then so be it.
And in that moment, I knew I loved him.
I loved the way he held me and made me feel safe. I loved the way he accepted me and encouraged me to be better than before. I loved that he saw me and never asked for anything else.
Slowly, the hug softened, our hands that were digging into each other moments before, eased and began stroking, touching any inch we could reach.
“God, I’ve missed this,” he breathed against my neck.
“I’ve missed you.” He pulled back enough to stare down at me, indecision and hurt and want mixing like a hurricane unsure of which direction to go. Would he shove it down and send it back out to sea or let it break free and consume us both. I knew what I wanted, and I let him see every need and want in my eyes too. “Please, Will.”
Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t pull away. Please don’t stop. Please, please, please. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg him to do all the right things I wasn’t sure how to ask for.
Like a storm I knew would happen, he crashed into me. His mouth slammed into mine, consuming me. His tongue pushed at my lips, and I opened, greedy for more. My body burned, flames spreading from where his fingers dug into my back to where my nipples scraped against his shirt, down to my core.
Feeling entirely too underdressed compared to him, I fumbled with his jeans, my fingers shaking from the flood of adrenaline as I ripped at the button and eased the zipper down. Not bothering to tease any more than I already had, I dropped to my knees and pulled his pants down.
“Arabel—”
My name choked off to a groan when I sucked the fat head of his cock between my lips, looking up at him the whole time. I slid down as far as I could go, moaning when he stripped off his shirt, baring each rippling muscle for my viewing pleasure. Unable to resist temptation, I slid my hand up, fingering each divot of his abs until I reached his nipple, pinching. He grunted and thrust, hitting the back of my throat.
