“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.
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.
One hand buried in my hair and the other shifted to repay the favor, twisting and pulling at my breasts as he pushed me down over and over again on his cock.
Too soon, he pulled me off, and I whimpered my disappointment.
“I need to be inside you.”
He helped me stand before tossing me on the bed. I bounced and scooted back, watching him strip his pants and stalk to the nightstand, almost ripping the drawer off in his eagerness to get a condom.
Watching him roll the condom over each inch had me on the brink of fingering myself right then and there, not even wanting to wait the ten seconds for him to get between my thighs.
As if he could read my mind, he placed a knee on the bed and glared. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“I know that look,” he said with arrogance.
“What look is that?”
“The one that says you’re on edge and too impatient to wait for anyone else, so you’ll do it yourself. The one that says I want what I want, and you can’t stop me.” He crawled between my thighs, untying the strings at my hips painstakingly slow. “Is your pussy eager for me? Does it want my fingers?” he asked, stroking his fingers through my wet folds and circling my clit. “My mouth?” He brought his fingers to his lips and sucked my cream from them, closing his eyes and letting out a moan. “Or to be filled with my cock?” He rubbed the head of his shaft up and down my slit, pushing in the tiniest bit. “Hmm, Arabella? Which one do you need?”