Uncle Jay Ch. 03

I tossed and turned, reliving my humiliation from last night. I thought I'd be so bold and alluring, kissing Uncle Jay. I thought I was finally bringing forth all the fearless spirits of my lady protagonists - but he treated me like some inebriated child, acting blindly just to get some attention.

I barely know how to explain it to myself, let alone to Uncle Jay, that what I'm feeling - and these feelings are growing stronger day by day - is something more. What I want is something substantial, even though I barely know what it is I want from him, with him.

On my way down to breakfast, I creep quietly through the main hallway, stopping at the thermostat on the wall. I adjust the number, turning it very low, then continue on my way to the dining room.

I keep my gaze down, avoiding eye contact with Uncle Jay, who I see, peripherally, is already seated at the table.

There's a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast already set at my place. I scoot in, sprinkle some salt on my eggs, and dig in.

After a few bites, I glance up at Uncle Jay, doing my best to exude pure innocence. Uncle Jay holds my gaze for several beats before glancing down at my chest. Inwardly, I feel a jubilant triumph! It has not gone unnoticed that I came to breakfast in my tightest tank top, without a bra. And my body is definitely reacting to the cooling temps in this house.

"I think you forgot a layer, Lita," Uncle Jay says, his head back down and fork poised to deliver another bite of eggs.

"I'm feeling great, Uncle Jay. I surely don't know what you're talking about," I say, primly.

Something akin to a growl emanates from his side of the table.

When I'm finished with my food, I walk over to the refrigerator to pour myself some juice. As casually as I can manage, I "accidentally" drop the cap to the juice carton. Slowly, I bend over to retrieve the cap from the floor.

"Lita!" is Uncle Jay's loud reply. Oops, I guess he noticed my short skirt and lack of panties. My heart is racing at what I've done, how I've exposed myself in front of someone, but I also feel so daring and bold. I'm perversely proud of my naughty milestone.

I hear the chair skid as Uncle Jay quickly withdraws from the table. He dashes out into the hallway. I hesitate for a moment, having no idea where he went off to or why, but continue putting the juice back in the fridge and take my glass to the dining table.

Jay returns, with a fluffy grey bathrobe in his hand. He tosses it at me with a curt, "Here, put this on."

I do as I'm told, as is my habit. I huff and plop down in my chair as Uncle Jay returns to his seat and glares at me.

"What is this really about, Lita? Are you acting out about your parents? Are you trying to get back at me for something?" Uncle Jay asks, seeming genuinely perplexed with my behavior.

And I can't say that I blame him; I can kind of see how this looks from an outside point-of-view. But the struggle is explaining it all from my point-of-view. I've tossed and turned in bed, I've sighed heavily in the shower, all my alone time is consumed with me analyzing and trying to re-analyze my own feelings and their origins. I don't know the why or the how but I know the what: I have feelings for Uncle Jay. I'm attracted to him. I want his attention and affection and intimacy. Maybe it's a crush, maybe it's lust, or maybe it's something more. But I'm addicted to him looking at me, and talking to me. I crave his touch and dominance over me.

"It's about you," I finally declare, my gaze glued to my glass of orange juice. My mouth is quickly drying out and my thoughts are racing around. I continue speaking, for once not rehearsing what I'm going to say but just blurt it out. "I want you, Uncle Jay. And I don't think you're entirely against that prospect."

I look up and find Uncle Jay frowning at me.

"Listen," he starts with a sigh. "You're cute, Lita. You've got the looks and the sweet, innocent personality. Usually. But we're family. I grew up with your father, I did stupid shit in college with your parents. You're my godchild, for fuck's sake. We cannot go down that road. I - I'm sorry."

I drop my gaze back to my juice and nod my head, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. Uncle Jay's chair slides across the floor and I hear him walk out of the room. When I turn to look through the empty doorway, a tear spills out of my eye. A raw pain hits my chest. I want to yell, or throw my glass against the wall, or knock over the table. I want to say that this is not how the story is supposed to go. He's supposed to be reluctant at first, then I slowly start to chip away at his walls, and we fall madly for each other. I want to beg him to not shut down on me.

But, instead, I walk to the sink, dump my juice, quickly rinse out the glass (because I'm not a complete monster), and mope all the way back to my bedroom.

~

I slept. I slept all day. I slept until the sun was setting. The purple twilight disoriented me momentarily, but then the memory of what happened at breakfast slammed into me, and my heart ached anew. Then I got annoyed with myself. What is so wrong with me that a rejection to starting something has torn me up? It's not like I was just dumped by a long-term partner; it's not like someone I was madly and passionately in love with just left me for someone else. Why am I so hurt?

Wallowing in my own melodramatic misery, I unsteadily made my way to my bathroom. My legs were taking forever to wake up, and I stumbled over the bathroom rug.

A yelp escaped me as I crashed into the tub, hitting it with my forearm before I collapsed to the tile floor on my knees. Stunned, I remained in that position, on my hands and knees, my knees burning and my forearm smarting. "That'll be a lovely bruise," I muttered to myself.

I attempt to stand gracefully, but my knees are now throbbing and I have to scoot myself over to use the sink as leverage to get up. Leaving red smears in my wake.

"Lita! Are you okay? What happened?" Uncle Jay looks like he ran here from wherever he was in the house. He surveys me up and down, then does it again.

"Where does it hurt the worst?" he asks as he pulls a first aid kit from a cabinet.

"I'm okay, just embarrassed," I grumble. But Jay shoots a look at me from over his shoulder and I amend my statement. "My knees seem to be bleeding, and my right arm hurts."

My knees are already exposed, as I'm still wearing that slutty short skirt, and I feel a wetness of blood trailing down my right leg. I hold my arm up so that Uncle Jay can see where I banged it.

He sucks in a breath and winces. I reach for the kit but he steps back, out of my reach.

"Sit," Uncle Jay commands, pointing at the closed toilet. I do, flinching as pain jolts up from my knees.

"Good girl, Lita," Jay murmurs as he begins patching me up. I rack my brain for something witty or funny to say, but I get caught up in watching him work.

When he's finished, he remains in his position, kneeling in front of me, his hands resting on my thighs, his eyes gazing up into mine.

I don't know what I'm doing, I've no experience with this, but I imagine myself as a character from one of those stupid romance novels. I lean down and press my lips to Uncle Jay's; my hands go to the back of his head and my fingers entangle themselves in his hair.

A noise emanates from him, but I can't tell if it's a groan of frustration or a slight moan of surprise, or pleasure. His hands grip my thighs harder, and his mouth pushes back against mine more urgently.

I spread my legs and he naturally moves forward to occupy the open space between us. I part my lips and his tongue dives in. My blood is hot and rushing, my brain is only able to focus on the basic details of what's happening, and parts of my body are aching to be touched.

Without breaking our kissing, I do my best to thrust out my chest. Uncle Jay's hands immediately leave my legs and snake up under my shirt, grabbing my breasts. There's another moaning noise, but this time I think it's coming from me.

He pinches my nipples and twists, and I cry out in pleasure. I've never experienced such intense enjoyable pain as what just happened, and I'm not sure I can handle waiting for that again. I'm about to beg Uncle Jay to pinch me some more when he jerks away, his mouth leaving mine as his hands fall away and he's standing over me while I try to catch my breath.

I stare at the stupid rug that tripped me while I wait for another heartbreaking rejection from Uncle Jay. But he's quiet for so long that I can't help eventually looking up at him.

And find him staring between my legs, a smirk on his face. His eyes snap up to mine and he whispers, "You're so wet, you soaked your panties, Lita."

I don't know what happens faster: me clamping my legs shut or my face turning bright red.

Uncle Jay laughs, a real deep belly laugh. I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at the tiled floor. It's not that I'm embarrassed, I just hate being so transparent to him. Protagonists know how to play it cool, I need to work on that.

He steps closer to me, careful to not brush up against my sore knees, and reaches out a hand to tilt my chin up. Our eyes meet and he says softly, "We shouldn't - no, I shouldn't -"

I know this moment, I've read this romance novel a million times. He's reluctant but his wall is cracking. I just need to give it a little push. This, I can do.

Before he can finish his attempt at yet another denial, I surge forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and pushing my breasts into him. We stand and stumble back against the wall.

His kissing is as frenzied as mine, and we make a storm of lips and tongues and teeth and moaning. I feel a tugging on my shirt and we break away long enough for me to pull it off. His hands are on my breasts, pinching and rolling and tugging on my nipples. My back arches and our teeth mash together, but we ease into a rhythm.

I eventually pull away, needing to catch my breath properly. I open my eyes to see him smirking and staring at my chest. I like this feeling, I relish this sort of attention. I get why some of my favorite romance novel characters have such provocative relationships.

Just as my brain starts to feel slightly self-conscious, Uncle Jay's head dives down and latches onto one of my nipples. The sensation nearly causes me to collapse. I do, though, moan and arch my back, pushing myself closer into him. His other hand smacks my other tit twice before squeezing the hardened nipple between his fingers.

I'm overwhelmed by the sensations. I want to buck against him, I want to scream and dance and cry out in utter contentment. I settle for running my hands across his shoulders, and down his arms, and back again. In our passion, we managed to tangle ourselves up on the floor.

Uncle Jay maneuvers us back over to the bathtub, and sits me down on the rim. He stands back and looks me over. I enjoy his gaze upon me.

"Panties, off," he commands huskily. Awkwardly, I get them off and kick them aside, careful of my bandaged knees.

Uncle Jay kneels and inches up closer to me, his hands on my thighs yet again. I try to calm my breathing but it's useless. He spreads my legs apart and I am completely exposed to him. I take a moment to catalog that I am completely vulnerable to a man for the first time, and it's glorious.

He leans down, his face so close to my cunt that I can feel his warm breaths, and looks up at me. "May I?"

As if I'd say no to him, as if I'm not thoroughly enjoying this, whatever we're doing. I don't trust my voice to sound as serene as I'd like it to, so I merely nod.

He kisses my lips and my hands fly to grip his hair, urging him further into me. His chuckle nearly undoes me. I feel his tongue glide up my folds, then it plunges into me. I moan, sounding a bit possessed. My head drops back and I fall into a rhythm with Jay, rocking my hips back and forth as his tongue navigates in, out, up, and down my pussy.

When he comes up for some deep gulps of air, I relax my hold on his hair. I trace circles into his scalp, unsure of how we proceed from here, praying I don't mess any of this up.

Uncle Jay grins wickedly at me before pushing my legs even further apart. He plunges back into my cunt, working his way up my pussy. Then, he sucks on my clit, causing me to cry out in - what I can only describe as - pure ecstasy. My body naturally tries to clamp my legs shut, the pleasure nearly overwhelming me, but Jay keeps me splayed open.

The pleasure overtakes me. It rockets through my body and I fear my mind is melting. I also think I'm screaming, or crying, or maybe trying to say something. But I clutch Uncle Jay as he continues to suck my clit and rapidly pumps two - now three - fingers in and out of my pussy.

Then I'm just floating, floating, floating back down. I become aware of my heavy panting, of Jay slowing down his ministrations, of my hands letting go of his shirt.

Uncle Jay withdraws from my cunt and sits on the edge of the tub beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I lean my head against him, utterly exhausted.

Uncle Jay chuckles.

"What?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"Nothing, nothing," he says dismissively, though I still hear the smile in his voice. "For such a quiet girl, you were pretty fucking loud."