Uncle Jay Ch. 04

6:18pm.

Uncle Jay told me to be downstairs for supper at 6:30pm, so I have plenty of time to read another chapter of my current romance novel. Not that this was a particularly extraordinary novel; it was yet another fake-dating tropey piece, but it included some much darker elements that I am thoroughly enjoying. After an unsettling diagnosis, the protagonist is embracing her rough fantasies and seeking out impact play and other thrills.

It makes me wonder what sort of things I might be kinky about. Is rough sex a kink? Is wanting to be manhandled considered kinky, or is that a normal craving?

Spanking is a common enough act with some of my favorite authors. And I...I really want to experience it. Being scolded like a truly naughty girl, having my pants and panties pulled down low as I'm slung across his lap. Him making me count the smacks between my squirms and whines. I can imagine the whole naughty scene, with my reddening bottom reverberating with each impact. And Uncle Jay - as that's the only man my mind wants to conjure up for this scenario - grinning as I cry and beg for forgiveness. He soothes my ass with slow circles of his hand, as he whispers for me to hush.

"Lita?" Uncle Jay's inquiry pulls me from my daydream and plops me in reality. I reach for my phone to check the time and stand simultaneously, dropping the book I had opened in my lap. I make to reach down for it, but see Jay is already picking it up. On his way up, he slides the book on my bed and his other hand into mine.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hi," I whisper back.

We agreed to play it day by day, not setting any commitments or labels, only committing to communication with each other and having some fun.

"Food's ready," he murmurs into my ear, his free hand stroking my hair back. "And, Lita?"

I open my eyes and look into his, expectantly.

"We have a guest," he says with a wink. A wink that I in no way know how to interpret.

~

My hand in his, Uncle Jay tugs me around the corner and into the formal dining room. There's a large man sitting at the table. He stops eyeing the food and looks up at us.

"Hello, there!" he booms cheerily. "I'm Mars," he declares as he thrusts his hand over the food in my direction. I lean over my half of the table and give his hand a good, solid shake, saying, "Hi, I'm Lita, it's nice to meet you."

Mars releases my hand and I look to Uncle Jay, who is smiling at us. "Sit, Lita, sit sit," he directs me. I do.

We pile various foods from take-out containers onto our plates, and the guys start talking about their respective jobs and recent projects.

I tune their conversation out, enjoying my meal, and thinking about what I'd like to do with Uncle Jay after Mars leaves. I imagine some straddling, some kissing, maybe some spank-

"Liii-ta?" Uncle Jay singsongs my name, waving a hand in my direction.

I feel my face growing warm as I realize both men are staring at me. I struggle to swallow the lump of food in my mouth, breaking out into a coughing fit. After gulping down some water, I have physically recovered but am mortified at the fit I just had.

"Anyway," Uncle Jay continues, "I asked if you wouldn't mind clearing all the plates once you're finished eating?"

My chest feels warm, but not in an embarrassed way; it's warm in a feeling proud sort of way. I have just enough time to assess that I am pleased to be able to help take care of Uncle Jay in this way.

I nod my head and mumble, "Yes, Uncle Jay, I wouldn't mind."

"Good girl," Jay replies quietly before pulling his gaze off of me and returning it to Mars.

I poke at the remainder of my meal and half-listen to the men talk about past colleagues. Once I'm finished with my water, I ease my chair back and stand.

I survey the array of dirtied plates and half-empty containers. Ever so carefully, I stack the plates and bowls and silverware, and take the trip to the kitchen sink. Grabbing a tray, I return to the table and pile on all the food containers, transporting those to the kitchen, as well. I think I feel Uncle Jay's eyes upon me, watching me walk away, and I smile, swishing my ass a bit more ardently.

I make quick work of putting the leftovers into reusable containers, the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and all the garbage into the trash can. I peek around the corner of the dining room and see that their water glasses are pretty low.

Picking up my handy tray again, I load it with the refrigerated pitcher of water, and two cans of beer. Walking delicately and precisely, I made my way to the dining table and paused, practicing what I plan on saying.

The guys' conversation also paused.

I mentally rehearsed my line one last time. "May I offer you a drink, Sirs?"

The silent lull hangs on one more moment before Mars's booming laughter fills the room.

Mortified, I glance at Mars, then look over at Uncle Jay - he's smiling at me, but I can't quite read his full expression.

I drop my gaze as Mars's laughter dies down, and realize I've humiliated myself yet again in front of the man I'm trying to impress. I would be cringing at myself if I were reading my own romance novel.

"Thank you, Lita," Uncle Jay says steadily as he claims one of the beer cans, not yet taking his eyes off me. He reaches out and tenderly traces his finger from my elbow down to my wrist.

I think he's about to say something more but the moment is hopelessly lost when Mars startles me by grabbing for his own beer from my tray. I feel the tray plunging from my hands before I can properly react. All I manage to do is flail and crash my hand into the water pitcher on its way down.

"Shit, sorry!" Mars says as he grabs his napkin and thrusts it in my direction. "That's really my bad, Lita. I hope nothing's ruined. Jay, where are the towels?"

"It's fine, it's just water," I cut in. "I'll just go get-"

"Mars, grab some kitchen towels from the top drawer to the left of the fridge and take care of the floor, please. Lita and I will be right back," declares Uncle Jay.

He takes my hand and leads me upstairs and into his bedroom. I start to protest, to announce that I can change my own clothes in my own bedroom by my own self, but he whirls around on me once we're past the threshold.

He eyes me up and down, hungrily, and I'm suddenly conscious of how heavily I'm breathing from the trek up the stairs.

"Remove your clothes, Lita," he growls. I immediately start to comply, but then force myself to slow down. Any halfway decent female love interest would never dare to hastily rip off her clothing. No, they'd be alluring and sexy with it, teasing. I...I can do that. I think.

My shirt is over my head as I make this decision to be provocative, so I ease it off of me the rest of the way and sling it across the room. It lands with a wet thud in the corner.

Uncle Jay raises a single eyebrow.

I inch my damp pants down my hips, down my legs, then kick them off my feet. I turn around, and slowly bend at the waist as best I can to retrieve my pants from Jay's carpeted floor. Slowly raising back into a standing position, I turn and toss my pants to a different corner of the room.

Jay licks his lips, staring at my cleavage.

As gracefully as I can manage, I reach behind me to unclasp my bra. I struggle momentarily and feel the warning pricks of perspiration on my forehead, but then the hooks are free and my bra is only held up by my own arms.

I release my arms' grip on the garment, and let my bra fall to the floor.

Uncle Jay clears his throat.

Lastly, I maneuver out of my sodden panties, letting them also collect on the floor beside my discarded bra.

The cool air sways around the room, and I'm perversely pleased when my nipples tighten.

Uncle Jay closes the gap between us in one stride, his hands perching on my shoulders as our foreheads touch. "Tell me when to stop," he whispers, hoarsely.

I'm confused for a moment, but then his hands slide down my chest and each claims a breast. He smirks just before each hand pinches a nipple and twists.

A noise escapes me, and Uncle Jay pauses, quietly asking, "Too much?"

He misinterpreted my sound; it wasn't a cry of pain, it was a spike of pleasure. I shake my head, whispering back, "Harder, Uncle Jay. Please."

As his fingers twist and tug at my sensitive nipples, I kiss up his chin until our lips meet. I taste a hint of his meal, and for some reason it makes me smile.

"May I introduce a little more pain to add to your pleasure?" he asks, nearly sounding out of breath.

I am unsure what exactly he has in mind, but my curiosity and desire make me feel bold. "Yes, Uncle Jay," I consent.

A devious noise comes from him and I'm about to laugh but he grabs the base of one of my breasts with his left hand, and smacks the nipple with his right hand.

I gasp.

He does it again, with a bit more force. I feel the stinging sensation from the slaps, but instead of cringing from the pain, my body craves more. Harder, faster, rougher. His initial two impacts made me feel more alive and sensitive than I ever recall feeling, and the creamy rush of wetness between my legs pushed me to beg for more.

"You okay, Lita? I can -" Uncle Jay asks but I cut him off with my urgent, "A-again, more. Please, don't stop."

My voice sounds more like a desperate whine instead of a confident request, but that thought vanishes from my head when Uncle Jay takes hold of my other breast.

He fondles my breast before repeatedly flicking my hardened nipple using his thumb and middle finger expertly. I jump at the first flick, then lean closer for more of the delicious throb before pleasure rushes in.

My eyes shut as my body drinks in the sensations of Uncle Jay simultaneously torturing and enchanting my breasts.

His ministrations occur faster and faster, harder and harder, then he stops the rhythm altogether and slaps my tormented nipple. I scream and dig my fingers into his forearm. Okay, maybe that wasn't quite how a seductive and sexy female protagonist would react.

Sheepishly, I look up at him, unable to fight the smile on my face despite how mortified I am at my outburst. "Sorry," I whisper, "I really liked that."

Uncle Jay dips his head down to meet mine, our foreheads once again resting against each other. I can hear the smile in his voice, "I noticed. I never would have guessed you're into pain, Lita."

He closes the gap between our lips, and I push my whole body into his. Jay's hands wrap around me, and he kneads my ass as our tongues dance together.

When we finally break apart, Uncle Jay walks to his dresser and picks out a flannel shirt. He tosses it to me, kisses me on the forehead, and says, "I believe you offered to serve us? I'll meet you downstairs."