Naughty Nubile Niece Ch. 01

Naughty Nubile Niece: Part One

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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

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Prologue: The Sins of the Mother

Twenty Years Ago...

She came to him in the dark, in the deepest hours of the night. As Jason felt the thin, narrow mattress sag, he started awake. "What..."

"Shhhh..." A finger covered his lips. "Be quiet."

"Jess?" He blinked at the red numerals on the alarm clock, that told him it was well after midnight. That, and the harsh white glare of the streetlight outside, arrowing in through gaps in the threadbare curtains, was the only light in his bedroom. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," his little sister said. Despite the steamy August heat that made the Illinois night a jungle-like hell, she snuggled closer to him. "And you've got something I want," she said, her voice trailing off on a throaty giggle. "Right here."

Jason flinched away from the searching fingers that groped towards his waist. Except for a pair of boxers, he was completely nude. The thunderstorms the weatherman had been promising for days still hadn't arrived, and his bedroom was a sauna. "Jessica, stop it. Mom and Dad will wake up. They'll hear us. And then..." He trailed off. His imagination couldn't even begin to deal with the repercussions of his parents discovering his little sister in bed with him. "What are you wearing?"

Jessica straightened. "Do you like it?" His night-accustomed eyes could make out the teardrop-shaped swells of his sister's breasts through the white lace. Jason looked away at the sight of her erect nipples, pressing boldly against the sheer cloth. "I had to promise Vern Watson a blow-job, but he gave me a ride over to the mall in Carbondale and bought it for me with his mom's credit card.

"I wish I would have had it for our first time," she said, looking down at her hands. "But this time will be better. Like a wedding night."

"Jessica." Jason sat up and rubbed his shaking hands across his face. "This is crazy. It was a mistake. We can't...can't keep doing this. Mom and Dad are right down the hall."

Jessica snorted softly. "Dad could sleep right through a tornado, Jase, unless he has to wake up to piss. And Mom is so damn tired after work that there's no way she's getting up before she has to. And don't say you don't want me," she added, with a significant look down at his groin. "Because I know that would be a lie."

Jason closed his eyes. It had been just one time. He had always been the oldest, his little sister's protector. When the youthful promise of her teenage body had been fulfilled, making her the most breathtakingly lovely girl in their small Illinois town, he had sworn he would never let anyone hurt her.

And he hadn't. But he had never counted on his own body becoming a traitor, either. Three nights ago, he had come home from his summer job at the local burger joint, reeking of grease and wanting nothing more than a shower to clean up and cool down. He had come out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, to find Jessica in tears from a combination of worrying about what would happen when Jason left for his sophomore year at college in a few weeks and what was proving to be a nasty breakup with a jealous boyfriend.

Jason had sat down beside her in the bedroom she shared with their sister Ashley, tried to convince her that Grant wasn't worth the time and trouble to get worked up over, and assured her that no matter what, he was going to come back home from college on holidays, and probably quite a few weekends, too. Their parents and younger siblings were out grocery shopping, and during a lull in the conversation, Jessica's eyes had fallen to the gap in his towel, where his thigh was peeking through.

It had started with just a touch, a teasing graze on his leg, as Jessica's summer-blue eyes had looked up at him, filled with an emotion he couldn't quite interpret. But even that tiny caress had kindled a fire in his blood. Try as he might, Jason couldn't control the erection that made the towel lift up in an obscene tent. One touch had led to two, which had led to him putting his arm around her waist. And then a hug, and suddenly their clothes had been flying away, their lips locked in frantic, tongue-wet kisses, and Jason had taken his sexy little sister's virginity. Even at the end, when Jessica had been lying on his chest, keening as she slowly, slowly took him inside her body, her teeth clenched but her lips curled in an ecstatic smile, Jason had been telling himself they could stop.

But they hadn't, until a few minutes later, when he had erupted in a cataclysmic climax. Five minutes after that, while they were still trying to figure out what had happened, their father's wheezing pickup had rumbled up the potholed driveway and it had been a terrified scramble to put on enough clothes to look decent before Elliot Chapel stuck his head through the front door and shouted for Jason to get his lazy ass outside and help unload the groceries.

Jason had been avoiding his sister ever since. Whenever he had a moment or two to himself, he had tried to convince himself that it wasn't his fault. Jessica had been on top, after all. But in his heart he knew the truth. He had done something unforgivable, no matter what Jessica seemed to think about it, and it was only through sheer good luck they hadn't been caught.

"I do want you," he admitted quietly. But he put his hand out, keeping his sister at bay. "But we can't do it again, Jess. Can't you see that?"

She tossed her coal-black hair, almost invisible in the dark room. "All I can see is your boner." Before he could stop her, a hand darted out, wrapping around his erection. "Which is a good thing, because that's all I want to see." Even through his boxers, the heat of her fingers made him groan.

"There," Jessica whispered. "That's better." She swung a leg over his hip, straddling him. "Now, just be nice and quiet," she whispered, hiking up the hem of her negligee. "And little sister will give you a nice...treat. Oh, that's so good." Her fingers slipped through the slit in his boxers, fishing out his pounding cock. The heat of her sex seemed to radiate outward, and Jason bit his lip on a groan of ecstatic anguish as his sweet, nubile little sister rubbed her hot, wet lips on his shaft. "Just hold still," she gasped into his ear. "And I'll do everything. And you better," she added with some asperity, "last longer this time. I want to get off when you're inside me, not in bed three hours later like last time; all alone and hoping that Ashley can't hear me."

"No!" It took all Jason's strength, all his will, but somehow he placed his hands flat on Jessica's chest and shoved. His sister flew across the bed and landed with a heavy thump on the floor.

Jessica's mouth opened in mute dismay, and the two of them held still, waiting for the sound of movement from their parents' bedroom. Or from the basement, where Austin had removed himself five years back, living with the dust and the spiders. A long moment passed, but somehow the entire house slept on, unaware of what they were doing.

"What..."

"Shut up!" Jason hissed furiously, fear and self-disgust making his voice far harsher than he intended. "And try thinking with your head instead of your tits for once. Do you think if Mom and Dad catch us in bed together I am ever going to get out of this shithole town? Or that anyone in Marion will ever go out with you again, if they hear that you've been screwing your own brother? Everyone in town already thinks we're white trash, Jess. Do we really need to give them another reason to look down at us?"

"We are white trash, Jason." Jessica's lip curled. "Why don't you wake up and smell the coffee? Every time Dad gets a decent job he manages to piss off the boss and get fired. That's why Mom has to work her ass off just so we can pay the damn bills. And God help Austin. That little shit is going to be in jail before he's twenty, I bet.

"And, if you haven't noticed, I'm eighteen years old. I can make up my own mind about what I want. And what I want is you."

The last sentence almost broke his will. But he ignored it. "They can live that life. Not me." Jason crossed his arms across his bare chest, not caring how ridiculous he looked, with his cock at high noon and poking through his boxers. "I'm getting out of here. College first, even if it takes six years and I have to work three jobs and take out so many loans I'm paying them off until I'm forty. I'm not going to live Dad's life. And you shouldn't live Mom's life either, marrying the first half-decent guy who comes along and spending the rest of your life angry about it."

"Fine." Jessica climbed to her feet, smoothing her nightie over her thighs. Jason's heart ached at her attempt to restore her shattered dignity. "But I'll tell you one thing for free, Jase," she shot over her shoulder, one hand on the doorknob. "One day you're going to wake up and wonder if it all was worth it."

A hand flipped up the hem of her nightie, giving Jason a heart-stopping view of her pert young buttocks. "You could have had it all. Instead you ran away.

"Live with that."

Chapter 1: Burnout

Is it all worth it?

Jason Chapel - founder, president, and Chief Executive Officer of Chapel Financial - hid a weary sigh as he looked down the conference table. Perhaps sensing his simmering frustration, the other members of the board looked away, or down at their laptops, or up at the television screen where the quarterly numbers were displayed.

"Four percent," he said quietly. "We're in the middle of the longest bull market in history, the government is throwing money around like sailors on shore leave, and our investors got a four percent return this quarter.

"Would anyone care to explain why? I am really quite interested."

Halfway down the right-hand side, a throat cleared. "Yes?"

"Well," an older woman said quietly. "There was that...thing."

"That...thing," Jason repeated, his voice a stiletto in a velvet sheath. "I am sure we are all absolutely agog to hear about the...thing, Veronica."

Instead of apologizing, as he expected, the woman looked up, her eyes defiant. Jason made a note to himself. Spine like hers was something to be treasured. "Yes, Mr. Chapel. The...thing...as we call it, is the fact that, despite the recommendation of a majority of the board, Mr. Chillups sank a significant amount of capital into the..."

"Into the what?"

"The frozen foods industry, sir."

"Ah. Where we had a net return of..."

Veronica's voice was funereal. "Negative twenty-seven percent, sir. Including a bankruptcy"

"Ah." He dropped his elbows to the polished mahogany and rubbed the sides of his nose. "Tell me why, Brian," he sighed. "Please, please, tell me why."

The small, skinny man looked up, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. "It...it made sense at the time, Mr. Chapel. I thought, with so many people working from home these days, even with the pandemic mostly over, that they would be wanting a lot of quick, easy lunches. Something they could pop into the microwave and eat before they had to hop onto the next conference call. How was I supposed to know that Howell Foods was going to have an e coli outbreak and go out of business? The numbers looked good!" he added defensively. "Everyone in the industry agreed!"

"Everyone in the frozen foods industry? Not the financial industry?"

"Well. Yes."

Jason's lips tightened. "Get out."

"Well, that could have gone a lot better," Loretta Stern remarked, as she followed him back into his office. "Though I do have to compliment you on your restraint, Mr. Chapel," she added acidly. "When Brian Chillups told you he had blown a good chunk of our revenue on pot pies, hot pockets, and those shitty-ass microwave meals, I thought you'd bring out the thumbscrews. Maybe even the guillotine. Or just go for an old-fashioned defenestration."

Jason chuckled mirthlessly at the thought of tossing Brian's body out the window as he sank into his chair. Sleek black leather, mounted on chrome, positioned behind a desk in an office which held an outstanding view of the Hudson River. Worthless. "Trust me," he sighed. "I was tempted." He mustered an unfelt smile. "But he's done good work in the past, and I was the one who gave him the authority to make investments, if he thought he saw an opportunity. And murdering your underlings is so eighteenth century, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes," Loretta said. "It's so much better to kick the poor schmuck out of the room, when most of the board expects you to draw and quarter him. Or maybe just fire him on the spot. Puts the fear of God into everyone else."

Jason sighed. He hadn't wanted this. Hadn't even expected this. But it had all...happened, somehow. Back when the latest financial bubble had been at its peak, and every talking head on television had been shouting to buy buy buy like a bunch of clapping monkeys, Jason, along with a very few others, had seen the inherent weakness in the market. He had sunk every cent he had, and every cent he could talk his clients and friends and family into investing, into shorting...well, basically into shorting the worldwide financial system.

When the bubble burst, and their longshot positions had become the envy of everyone who had been laughing at them only weeks before, Jason and his partners had become wealthy beyond the dreams of a small-town boy from downstate Illinois. Hailed as a financial genius, he had quit his job and started his own advisory company almost out of reflex.

Luckily, it turned out that everyone on Wall Street who had been introduced to Jason as someone who had known everything there was to know about the financial markets didn't know jack and shit. And Jack had just left town. Most of them had got their jobs based on the amount of roman numerals after their name, or how long their families had been in New York or Connecticut. After he had weeded out the bullshit opinions of people with names like Lyman Smithers the Fourth and Tyler Cabot Smith-Smythe-Smith, he had been left with a core of hard-headed realists who didn't care where someone had been born, who their father was, or whether they had taken their summer vacations at Martha's Vineyard or at Dollywood. All that mattered was whether their decisions brought a good return on the money which had been entrusted to their care.

And Jason was good at it, he had found, rather to his shock. Good at hiring the right people, and good at making the right decisions, this afternoon's blunder excepted. More than ten years in, and Chapel Financial was still going strong. Oh, they would probably never be as big as Berkshire Hathaway or JP Morgan or Wells Fargo. But, honestly, he didn't want to be. Even in the cutthroat world of finance, where your competitors would happily rip out your heart and do a cheerful little tap-dance on it if it meant their profits would go up by a quarter point, there was plenty of room for a company that plugged along, gave its investors a good return, and didn't hassle them with e-mail blasts every couple of days braying about the latest get-rich-quick scheme.

Some people, Jason was quick to point out, when a newcomer wanted to know why they weren't being more aggressive, simply wanted to be left alone.

"I'm not going to fire him, Loretta," he told the older woman, who had been his personal assistant for the last eight years. "But I might have to rein him in a bit." He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. "Four-point-three percent this quarter. Fuck. How did I not see this coming?"

"You've had a lot on your plate. And I don't think it's an absolute disaster, Jason. We've been running well ahead of the market for the past three years. You've got plenty of slack as far as the customer base is concerned. They're not going to bolt for somebody else just because of one bad quarter. Relax."

"Easy for you to say," he scowled. "You don't have a couple of hundred people out there who depend on you to keep this place afloat."

"Jason." For once, the brisk voice of his assistant was soft and careful. "It's just one quarter. Take the hit and move on. I know it might be heresy to say this sort of thing, but there's more to life than money."

"Really?"

"Really. You need to slow down, boss. If you don't, you're going to burn out before you're fifty. I've seen it before. Men and women who thought the only way to win was to work harder and harder until something broke in their heads. And after that, they ended up turning to pills or booze or they went into the bathroom one night with a gun and never came out.

"When was the last time you took a weekend off? A full weekend, where you didn't have a Sunday night call with people in Europe or a Friday night call with people in Asia? Two whole days where all you did was chill?"

"Chill?"

She waved a hand at him. "Answer the question, Jason."

"Yes, Mom." But for once his flippant response didn't get the usual smile. "I don't know." Uncomfortable, he looked out the window, where a bright June sun was shining on the surrounding buildings. "Christmas, maybe."

"And you didn't even go home to see your family."

Jason looked down at the desk, but the polished wood wasn't giving him any answers. "My family and I...we don't get along that great, Loretta. You know that."

"What I know is that you're so bad at returning calls from your mother and sisters that they're e-mailing me just to make sure you're all right. I heard from Rebecca just this morning. She told me that she was thinking about going to the lake house next week, and wanted to make sure that everything was turned on in case her or Jessica decided to take a long weekend. So I took care of turning on the power and water, instead of you."

Caught off guard by this unexpected attack, all Jason could do was shrug awkward thanks. The fact that his mother and his assistant, who had never actually met, were teaming up to run his life was something he would ordinarily find hilarious. But not now.

The older woman put her hands on her hips. "That settles it. You're taking a vacation. Starting today."

"What!" He sat up. "I can't take time off! I have meetings all next week. And then there's the presentation that Yankovic is giving about the new company website. I have-"

"A number of very talented subordinates who can handle things while you're out, Jason," Loretta interrupted smoothly. "You hired them, after all. Do you think the company will fall to pieces if you're gone for a week or two?"

He crossed his arms across his chest, painfully aware that he looked like a sulking teenager. "I'm not going anywhere, and you can't make me. I'll be here on Monday."

"Oh?" Loretta arched an elegant gray eyebrow. "You're not going to get much work done if you can't log into your computer or get into your e-mail."

"What are you talking about?"

"You made me a company administrator when you hired me, remember? In case something happened to you? I can change your passwords and lock you out if I want. Now you could," Loretta said, cutting across his interruption with the skill of a woman who had been working for high-powered executives for decades, "go down to Ali in IT and have him change the passwords back. Or take away my access. But that wouldn't make a good impression, would it?

"Go home, Jason," she said gently. "Go home to Illinois. Visit your family. Recharge your batteries, so that the next time someone screws up, you don't humiliate him in front of the entire board.

"Or go to Jamaica, hang out on the beach for a week, and get shitfaced on Red Stripe and weed. Or take a trip to New Zealand and see where they made all those stupid hobbit movies you're always talking about. You're a damn millionaire. Why don't you act like it for once?