Chapter 4 #2
“Right.” Uncle Declan spreads his legs, resting his left knee against the back of Uncle Kason’s hand, which is now dangling off the console. “Won’t happen again.”
My stomach clenches at my uncles’ agreement. Young. I’ll always be too young and nothing but a kid compared to them, which is exactly the way it’s supposed to be.
Shaking off whatever vibe he’s getting from us, Uncle Kason moves on and slides the back of his fingers along Uncle Declan’s knee, nudging it. “So, how’d your date go? Think you might’ve finally found your future wife?”
“Maybe.” Uncle Declan is either lying about his date for Uncle Kason’s benefit, or—and it’s a big or—he’s already forgotten his agreement and is talking about me potentially being ‘the one’. I hope so.
Unbuckling and sliding behind Uncle Declan, I discreetly reach between the seat and the car’s frame. He doesn’t take my hand, dashing my hopes.
“Glad to hear it. ‘Bout time one of us settled down and had a few youngins,” Uncle Kason says, and my uncles share a grin. “How about you, hon?” he asks me, eyes darting to the rearview mirror.
I give him the truth. “Best date I’ve ever been on.”
Uncle Kason’s brows wrinkle. “Is it someone I know?”
I make a non-committal noise, and Uncle Declan finally takes my hand, squeezing it once before he lets go.
Ok, so maybe not all hope is lost. At least, that’s what I think until Uncle Declan hurries to the front door after Uncle Kason pulls into our long driveway and parks the car.
“Hey, not so fast, hon,” Uncle Kason says when I get out, and I round the trunk to his side of the car. “How’s school going?”
Bending over, I prop my head on my arms crossed on the windowsill. “It’s going well. One year left ‘til I graduate and have to find a ‘real job’,” I say, quoting my mom, who bugs me constantly about my future career options that will put my degree to good use in such a small town.
He laughs, his heavily tanned skin cut by a paler swath along his forehead from wearing his hard hat beneath the blazing hot sun. I doubt anyone but Uncle Declan could make a tan line like that look so sexy.
“You’re still working part-time at the thrift store?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Thought so.” Uncle Kason rummages in the center console. Finding his wallet, he thumbs out a few fifty-dollar bills and tries to pass the cash to me.
I push his hand away. “I don’t need that.”
Folding the bills twice in half, he lifts my hand, curling my fingers over the bundle of cash, his skin rough and warm on mine…
the same skin that caressed my backside that one perfect—until it was ruined—night at his apartment.
“I know the property taxes on this place are sky-high. I want to make sure my girl is taken care of.”
“You’re sweet, Uncle Kason, but really, we’ve got it covered.”
He caresses the back of my hand with his thumb. “Then spoil yourself with something you don’t need.”
“Like what?”
“Something fun,” he says slowly, lowering his voice, leaning closer.
“Like…a new game?” I ask, equally low, squeezing my thighs together. “Maybe one that you and I can play together? We could pretend I’m your—”
Uncle Kason tugs the collar of his T-shirt away from his neck when Uncle Declan appears at my side, cupping my elbow. “Come on, sugar. It’s late, and I’m ready to hit the hay.”
I lean farther through the window, arching my back in case Uncle Declan is looking at my ass with my skirt being so short, and I kiss Uncle Kason’s scruffy cheek, dangerously close to his lips.
“Want to come by tomorrow morning? I could bake another cake for you. Maybe a lane cake, this time, like I did last summer at the lakehouse.”
Uncle Kason drops his head back on his headrest and lifts the hem of his shirt, flashing his tight abs, and he rubs his stomach.
“Fuck, yes, hon. Looking forward to eating your—” Uncle Kason pinches his lips when Uncle Declan grumbles something behind me.
Uncle Kason lifts his eyes past my shoulders, his fingertips lingering on his abs, but then lets his T-shirt drop, and shifts the car into drive. “Got another ride. See y’all tomorrow.”
Uncle Declan grunts, and I wave Uncle Kason off before following Uncle Declan to the front door.
He unlocks it, hovering his hand at my back but not quite touching me while he waits for me to step inside first. He gives me a wide berth when he suddenly rushes ahead, throwing his cowboy hat to the side on the dining room table, his boots pounding the hardwood floor.
“Goodnight, Corinne,” he calls over his shoulder.
Ugh. We’re right back to square one. “Declan.”
“It’s Uncle Declan,” he says, staring straight ahead at his bedroom door so I only get a shadowy view of his profile, his strong, square jaw clenched.
“The night’s not over yet. You, Declan, still owe me a song.”
I take it as a good sign when he doesn’t push into his bedroom and shut me out, and I pull up my music app, setting my phone on the narrow shelf that runs the length of the hallway where we display photographs and knick-knacks to free my hands.
He takes a long, calming breath, then turns around.
It’s so dim in here that I can’t see his eyes, but I feel the heat of them when he lifts my hand in the air, then slides his other around my waist. As the song builds, I scoot close enough that I have one leg between both of his.
If I were any shorter, I’d be riding his knee.
At the last chorus, he says, “When the song is over, so is our date, and I go back to being Uncle Declan.”
“Ok,” I eagerly agree, but that’s because I’ve looped the song so that it plays on repeat.
Uncle Declan chuckles, his hand tightening on my waist. “You little trickster.”
“Can’t blame a wife for wanting to dance with her husband for a little longer.”
Uncle Kason clearly got into his head, because he says, “I’m not your husband, Corinne. And I never will be.”
“Play pretend with me, just for a little longer.” He doesn’t argue, and I already have my next line waiting when the song loops a third time and Uncle Declan pulls away.
“Come on,” I say, leaning into the fantasy, drawing the back of his top out of his jeans so I can lightly scrape his back, no chance of anyone breaking us up now that we’re home.
“Our kids won’t be up for another few hours.
The night doesn’t have to end just yet.”
Uncle Declan spins us and pushes me against his bedroom door, breathing heavy against my lips. “You have to stop talking like that, sugar.”
“Why?” I finish working the rest of his top out of his jeans, trailing my fingers to his belt buckle with my heart beating wildly. I’ve daydreamed about undressing him so many times, but to actually do it, and without him pushing me away, makes me lightheaded.
“Because if you don’t stop me, I’ll end up putting another baby into you when Bianca is only four months old and Aiden’s not even two yet,” he says in a rush.
I gasp. He’s leaned into the fantasy, too, using two of the top baby names on my list I once shared with him and Uncle Kason. With my lips parted, Uncle Declan strikes, thrusting his tongue in my mouth with a groan, tasting of tequila and sin.
“We can’t do this. Tell me to stop,” he begs a minute later, our lips swollen and skin feverish.
“Stop,” I whisper, my heart dropping right along with my hands at my sides. I don’t want him to think I’ve manipulated him into taking things further if he’s only caught up in his lust and doesn’t truly want to be with me.
He slaps a hand flat on his door, grinding his dick against my lower belly. “Again.”
“Stop,” I say with a firmer voice. I won’t be a living embodiment of his regret come the morning. I don’t deserve that.
“Again, Corinne!”
“Stop, Uncle Declan!” I shove his right arm that’s barring my escape, intending to run into my room so I can bury myself in my blankets, hoping I can bury my feelings, too, until I no longer ache from his rejection.
“I can’t.” He groans and seizes my waist, and it’s he who twists the doorknob, both of us stumbling into his bedroom. “Fuck, sugar,” he mumbles, pulling his top and undershirt off over his head.
I almost lose my footing when he backs me toward his king-sized bed draped with a family heirloom quilt in the middle of the room on the left wall, his hands all over me, lips locked with mine once more.
“Declan,” I moan when he yanks at the knot on my T-shirt, pulling my top off over my head with a whoosh of air. “Tell me you want me for more than just one night.”
“I’ve wanted you every single night for the last two years,” he says, planting a hard kiss on my lips. “That part isn’t pretend. I couldn’t wait to move in with you, even though I knew it would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, keeping my hands to myself.”
My stomach flutters with his confession. My crush—obsession—isn’t one-sided.
He cradles my face, a storm swirling behind his sunflower eyes when he says, “My back doesn’t hurt nearly as often as I tell you it does.
It was just an excuse to touch you when my resolve was weak.
I can’t tell you how many times I came in my shorts after I finally worked my way into lying on top of you for my massages.
And then I’d stroke myself all night, every night, thinking of you in your bedroom when I wanted you in here with me. ”
I dig my fingernails into his sides with a surge of hurt. “Then why were you dating other women?”
He drops his forehead to mine. “You’re my niece. I was trying to forget you because we can’t be together. But it didn’t work. I couldn’t so much as hug another woman. All I could think about was coming home to you.”
Even though it’s what I want to hear, there’s still one part I can’t get over. “If you still think it’s wrong for us to be together, then I don’t want to be with you. Not like this.”
His lips brush mine when he says, “There’s nothing wrong about being with my wife.”
My wife, my wife. It rings in my ears when I relax my fingers, our tongues meeting after he rips off my bra.
“I can’t get enough of these,” he says, palming my breasts, his voice and touch tender.
My hair tickles my skin when I arch and tip my head back with a moan after he bends to take one nipple in his mouth without hesitation.
I’ve wanted this for so long, resorting to pinching my nipples in the lonesome dark of my bedroom while I thought of what it would feel like to have his hot mouth on me.
He’s panting as he switches sides, my fingers tangled in his hair. “Your milk is so warm and sweet,” he says with a satisfied sigh, as if he’s truly able to drink from me. “I love when it’s finally my turn to taste you after the kids go to bed.”
I almost blurt out “What?!” because he’s taken the fantasy to another level, introducing some kind of kink I never knew existed—one that makes my core clench and my nipples prickle with desire.
Would Uncle Kason be into it, too, if he were here?
Would I have one man on each side, tugging on my nipples, drinking me down?
I squeal when Uncle Declan grabs my waist and throws me onto his bed. If his back twinges from the sudden movement…well, so be it. It’ll give me the perfect excuse to massage him again, naked this time, starving for the feel of him after these long, miserable months.
“Need you, sugar,” he says, fumbling with his belt.
I sit up, my legs dangling over the edge of the mattress with my knees spread to fit his strong thighs.
Staring directly up at him, I bat his hands away to work on unfastening his belt and the zipper of his starched jeans.
It’s here that I lose some of my nerve, my hands shaking since I’ve never done this before.
“Go on, Corinne. Take me out,” he urges while cupping my jaw, dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. Take me out—his cock, he means.
I let out a slight whimper, finally reaching into his boxers and grazing his warm, veiny shaft with the tips of my fingers.