CHAPTER 3 – A DANGEROUS FLIRTATION #2
“Good,” I murmur, and I grind down just a little, letting my denim shorts catch on the bulge in his jeans. He groans, low and helpless, and suddenly his hands are everywhere—up my back, into my hair, squeezing my ass through the thin cotton.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says in a tortured voice, those blue eyes staring into mine. “God, I’m so fucked.”
I merely smile and take the moment to tilt forward, mouth almost touching his. “Kiss me,” I whisper. “Please.”
That’s all it takes. Jack’s lips crash into mine, all control and reason gone. He tastes like beer and spruce and male musk, and when his tongue slips between my lips, I bite down gently, just to hear the sound he makes.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”
He’s rough, hands running over me like he’s trying to memorize every inch, and when he drags my hips down, I can feel how badly he wants me.
I grind harder against his covered dick, the pressure sending sparks up my spine. I’m wet, and I know he knows it, because the only thing between us is denim and the insane heat of wanting. He breaks the kiss, panting. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able to stop.”
“Don’t,” I whisper right back. “I don’t want you to stop.”
His hands go under my shirt, hot and hungry, and he palms my big breasts through the thin cotton. I gasp, arching into him, and for a second, nothing else in the world exists.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans again, expression tortured as he pinches my stiff nipples. “I’m so fucked.”
At that moment, the fridge door slams in the garage.
Panic. I scramble off his lap, nearly tripping over the coffee table, and Jack yanks a throw pillow into place, adjusting himself just as Dad wanders back in, six-pack in hand.
Dad strolls in, unaware that anything’s wrong. “You guys want anything else? I found the beef sticks, and goddamn, but I have no idea why Nancy hid them away.”
Jack looks normal enough, even if he has a cushion in his lap.
His black hair is still smooth, and his nostrils flare slightly, but otherwise, he appears normal.
So I try to look as innocent as possible while smoothing my golden locks.
“No thanks, I’m good, Dad,” I say. My voice is so breathless, I half expect Gerald to notice.
But he’s already turned his attention to the game, oblivious.
Meanwhile, Jack sits rigid, knuckles white on the pillow.
I can’t help but notice that his thighs are tense, and I know if I pulled the cushion off his lap, he’d be sporting a giant boner.
So I do something bad. While Gerald’s staring at the screen, screaming at the ref about something, I quickly lift my shirt and flash Jack.
Yes, I show him my big boobies by pulling down the cups of my bra, and gently jiggle the giant ivory orbs as he watches.
“These are for you,” I whisper softly. “They’re waiting for your lips, Uncle Jack.”
His mouth opens and closes silently. I could swear that his cock twitches again as a flush goes up his neck.
But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move an inch.
Instead, the rest of the game goes by in a blur, and I barely have any idea who wins in the end.
But by the time the last touchdown is scored, I’m more than ready for the tension to break.
My dad screams and howls with triumph, pumping his fists as I smile at Jack.
“That was a good game,” I say in a soft tone.
“It was,” he rasps, blue eyes so dark they’re almost black. “You’re a very naughty girl, you know that, Eliza?”
I smile saucily.
“I know.”
Jack’s eyes darken.
“Naughty girls get punished. Hard. Did you know that as well?”
This time, I’m the one who’s surprised. I stare at the alpha male, pink pout parted, but then my dad interrupts.
“Goddamn Kentucky,” Gerald snarls. “Fuck ‘em. Wait until next year.” Then, my dad plops down in his La-Z-Boy again, arms crossed with a sulky expression on his face.
Meanwhile, I merely shrug at Jack and then clear the snack bowls, taking everything into the kitchen. Dad’s in the living room, still snarling at the screen, but Jack wanders into the kitchen with me, his hands shoved in his pockets.
I walk up behind him and put my hand on his arm. He turns, and I can see it—the need, the desire, the hunger to claim.
“I’ve thought about it, and I want to be punished, Uncle Jack,” I whisper. “By you.”
He lets out a low noise from deep in his chest, his expression ravenous. “You’re going to ruin me, you know that?”
I smile coquettishly. “But isn’t that what you want too?”
His answer is just a look up and down my curves, searing them with heat as I gush moistly between my thighs. Then, he’s out the back door, leaving me on my own.
Later, as I get ready for bed, I check my phone. There’s a message from an unknown number:
“Next time, we do this somewhere no one can walk in. - J”
I reply: Tomorrow. Riverside Café. 2pm. Nobody from St. Cloud goes there.
I hit send, then spend the next hour spiraling through every possible outcome: Jack kissing me in broad daylight, Jack telling me it can never happen, Jack showing up and not being able to keep his hands off me. The uncertainty is delicious, every possible disaster more exciting than the last.
I’m vibrating with anticipation, every nerve still tuned to the feel of the older man’s hands on my waist, his huge form beneath mine, the way his mouth tasted when he finally gave in. What will it feel like when he kisses me down there? OMG, how can I even be thinking this? I’m such a bad girl!
There’s a full-length mirror across from the bed, and I catch my own reflection: hair wild, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.
I look like someone who just got away with a felony and is already plotting the next one, but it’s a good feeling.
I roll onto my back, hugging my pillow, reliving every hot, forbidden second.
I’m so riled up, in fact, that I know what I have to do.
There’s only one thing that can soothe me after the events of the afternoon.
Getting up, I pad to the locked case in my closet, and begin pulling out my ring lamp and camera.
Oooh, this is so bad but my customers need attention too, and camming is the only thing that will relieve the ache between my legs.
Why not kill two birds with one stone? Within moments, I’m set up and clad only in bits of lacy lingerie, pressing the green record button as my customers log on.
“Hi boys,” I coo with a coquettish smile at my laptop screen. “Did you miss me?”
Then, we’re up, up, and away as the tips start rolling in … but in the back of my mind, there’s only one man watching.