Page 13 of Hidden Desires

Jack’s jaw ticks, and he takes a step closer. He’s so much bigger than me, but I’m not afraid. If anything, it makes me feel powerful to know I have this gorgeous alpha male spinning in his head.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says, voice low. “Your dad—Gerald—he’s like a brother. If he knew what I was thinking—what I want to do with you⁠—”

“What do you want to do with me?” I ask, my voice so soft it’s almost lost in the wind.

His eyes go dark. “Everything. And nothing. Both at once.”

I reach for his hand. He hesitates, but lets me take it. His palm is rough and warm, fingers long and strong. I press our joined hands to my chest, right over my racing heart.

“I want you to do all those naughty things, Uncle Jack,” I say. “And I’m not going to apologize for the wanting either.”

He shakes his head, and for a second I think he’ll walk away. Instead, he takes my face with both hands—big hands, broad and sure—and kisses me like he’s drowning and I’m the last pocket of air on earth.

The world narrows to his mouth and the taste of coffee and spearmint, the feel of his stubble scraping my chin. He kisses like he’s fighting for control, but the harder he tries, the sloppier it gets, until we’re both ravenous, lips crushed together and he claims my plush pout.

He breaks away, panting. “Fuck, Eliza.”

“Mmm,” I tease. “I like it.”

He slides his hands down to my waist, pulling me flush against him. I can feel the hardness pressed to my belly, and for a moment, I want to undo every button on his shirt and mark up his tanned skin until he can’t forget me.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, like a final checkpoint.

I answer by rising on tiptoe and biting his earlobe, just hard enough to make him grunt. “Yes, please, Uncle Jack. I’d like that.”

He growls in the back of his throat, the sound rumbling straight into my bones. Then the world disappears as Jack drags me from the path and into a copse of trees. There are bushes everywhere, hiding us, but I don’t care if anyone sees. All that matters is his hands on my hips, my arms around his neck, the heat building between us with every stolen breath.

He lifts me like I weigh nothing, pinning me gently to the trunk of an oak. Our mouths crash together, hungry and desperate. His thigh presses between mine, and I grind down, shameless, chasing the friction. He shoves the sleeve of my dress aside, exposing my bare shoulder, and covers it with kisses, soft and rough at the same time. Holy cow, I had no idea that my shoulder was an erogenous zone, but my head falls back as I sigh with pleasure.

“Yes, Uncle Jack,” I moan as my hands run through that dark hair. “Mmmm.”

Then, my hands find their way under his shirt, tracing the planes of his heavy pecs and down his six pack abs. This man works out, and it shows. He groans when I rake my nails across his ribs.

“Eliza,” he murmurs into my hair, “I’ve wanted you since—fuck, when I saw you in those goddamn short shorts.”

I kiss him again, deep and passionate, then break away just long enough to breathe. “Good, because I want you too.”

His control snaps. One hand goes to the hem of my skirt, fingers skating up the inside of my thigh. I shiver, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, voice rough with need.

I want to say something witty, but all I can do is whimper as his fingers brush the lace edge of my panties. He slides his hand under the fabric, finding me drenched and ready, and his whole body shudders.

“Jesus,” he says, “you’re so fucking wet.”

“Only for you,” I whisper, grinding against his palm. “Oooh, that feels good!”

He teases me, fingers gentle but insistent, rubbing slow circles on my clit that make me want to scream. I claw at his shirt, desperate to feel more skin, and he obliges, yanking it over his head in one smooth motion.

His torso is even better than I imagined—bronzed and strong, a map of everything he’s survived. I run my hands over every inch, memorizing the muscled peaks and valleys, trailing my fingers over his abs and then down that arrow of hair.

“Mmm,” I coo softly. “Where does this lead?”

Jack’s focused on me, though. His fingers move faster, driving me higher with every stroke, before pinching my clit and making me jerk with pleasure.

“Come for me,” he whispers. “On my hand, baby girl.”

I have no choice to obey. I come hard and fast, biting into his shoulder as deep shudders run through my pussy.