“What did you want to happen?” he asks.
I can only shrug, meeting his eyes as I search for words. “I… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He rips my blanket away and steps down, gripping my upper arms as he backs me into the living room again. “What did you want to happen?”
“I don’t know!” I cry. “I…”
“What?”
“I…”
Why am I the one in trouble? Is he really angry?
Or just disappointed?
“What did you want to happen?”
“I wanted it all to happen,” I utter, finally looking back up at him with tears in my eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just…I feel it everywhere.”
He stares at me, his eyes narrowed. “You feel what everywhere?”
“You,” I whisper, dropping my eyes. “And them.”
This place, the house, the land, the wind…them. I’m alive.
“You get hard, you feel it,” I remind him of our night in the kitchen. “Am I not supposed to feel it, too?”
“You’re seventeen!”
“Eighteen,” I growl back. “I could’ve screwed anyone by now. My parents never cared, but I did.” I look up at him as he brings me close, his hot, angry breaths falling over my forehead. “No one ever felt right… b-before.”
He holds me, squeezing my arms and seething.
His fists clench, his fingers digging into my skin, and I whimper. “Jake…”
It hurts.
He drops me and twists me around, bending me over one arm. I barely have time to suck in a breath before his hand lands hard on my ass, a loud slap piercing the air.
I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut in shock.
“Still feeling good?” he asks, breathing hard.
I don’t look at him. Rage boils my blood, and part of me wants to scream and hit back, but another part of me…
Another part of me feels the knots loosen in my stomach. My heart jumps and the adrenaline runs.
Still feeling good?
Slowly, I nod.
What the fuck are you going to do to me? For some reason, I’m emboldened. I want to find out.
He’s quiet for a moment, and then I hear his threat. “You want more?”
I nod twice.
He still holds me, and I rise back up, feeling the muscles in his arm tight and hard, and his body, almost like it’s vibrating. I can’t hear him breathe.
He’s so hard. I know he is.
“Take off your shorts,” he bites out. “So you can feel my hand.”
My pulse fills my ears, and my hands start shaking, but I push my shorts down my legs, standing in my shirt and underwear.
He sits on the couch, leaning back, and looks at me, his eyes trailing over my body and down to between my legs.
“Come here,” he instructs. “Over my lap, princess.”
My nerves shake so badly, but still—my pussy clenches when he says ‘princess’。 I want him to say it again.
Slowly, I crawl across his lap and lie down on my stomach as he lays an arm across my back to hold me down.
I don’t want his hand. I just want his fingers.
He peels down my panties, and my breath catches, closing my eyes on reflex at the shame.
But I like it. I want it. I want him to do whatever he wants. I—
He slaps my ass, pain spreading across my right cheek as I jerk and whimper.
He lets out a breath, and I swear, I almost hear him groan.
He spanks me again and again, fire coursing under my skin, and I clench the blanket on the sofa as I throw my head back and cry out.
“Three,” he growls. “You going to let those boys touch you again?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He slaps me again, and I wince even as my ass arches up to meet it.
“No, what?” he whispers.
“No, Uncle Jake,” I answer properly.
His hand lands on my bare ass again. “Five,” he breathes out. “You going to let them see your body?”
Another slap.
“No,” I whimper. “No.”
And another one.
“You’ll be good?”
“Yes, Jake.” I grind my pussy into his leg as sweat beads my brow. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good.”
He spanks me again, and I thrust forward, the pulse in my clit pounding. God, I’m so wet. I bury my hand into the sofa. I need him. I need his cock.
Again. Again. Again. Faster and faster, he spanks my little ass. Again and again and again, and I feel his hard cock trying to poke through his jeans.