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ChapterOne
The day I met my uncle for the first time, I was fifteen years old.
I felt something shift in the air.
I’d never met Damien, my father’s estranged brother, before who I always heard was the black sheep of the family. Who I always heard traveled the world doing “God knows what,” as my father would say.
I didn’t ask why he was suddenly at our house for a visit all those years ago. I was curious about this newfound family member and why I’d never met him before or why my father saw him as a “bad guy.”
But I never asked because I didn’t think Dad would tell me anyway.
I could still picture that first day Damien walked through our front door. His body was hulking and clothed in all black. And whatever flesh I could see had been covered in tattoos. I wondered if his chest and back were as tatted up as arms, hands, and neck.
Is his body as defined as it seems through his shirt?
Damien screamed menace.
I could see him as a mob boss or maybe a crime lord. He gave off vibes he reigned the underworld.
I knew it was wrong to take notice of how attractive he was with his disheveled dark hair and equally dark eyes. His coloring was such a stark contrast to mine and even my father’s. We both had light hair and eyes, our fair skin differing from Damien’s olive tone.
But there were things that were familiar. The shape of his lips and nose… the same as Dad’s and mine.
And since that first visit five years ago, Damien came every week. I saw my father and him becoming closer, as if whatever fragmented part of their relationship was slowly patching itself back together.
And the older I got—as the years passed—I started waiting eagerly for his next visit. I watched him more and more. Stared at him longer. Harder.
I found this magnetism toward him. It drew me in so deeply that despite knowing how wrong it was to find my uncle attractive, I couldn’t talk myself out of it.
I couldn’t reason with myself.
It was wrong. It was taboo. I should’ve been disgusted.
I knew all of this, knew that finding any kind of attraction to my uncle was absolutely wrong in every single way. Blood should never be with blood.
But still, I couldn’t help myself when I closed my eyes and thought about his visit last week. Just the very image of him in my mind had me swaying with the impact of it.
He’d been helping my father weatherize the driveway. There was a storm threatening to come, so they’d been salting the cement. Damien hadn’t worn a jacket as he hauled a huge, heavy bag of salt over his shoulder to where my father was.
I could picture it so clearly even now.
Oh, Jesus.
He wore a lightweight, long-sleeved shirt, and I’d never seen a man so cut or muscles so defined.
My pussy clenched every time I thought about it.
Shaking my head to clear the disgusting, forbidden images of my uncle, I poured myself a glass of wine. At twenty, I still lived at home while I commuted to the local college. It not only allowed me to save money but I also loved being close to my family.
Although I wasn’t a virgin, I also wasn’t experienced. And as I reminisced about it, the two boys I let fuck me looked like fumbling, hormonal teenagers compared to Damien.
And just like that, even though I’d just forcibly cleared illicit thoughts of him from my mind, he was right back at the forefront of my brain. My heart raced, and my body flushed as soon as I imagined my uncle fucking me in those boys’ place.
Oh, God.
Suddenly, I was flashed back to last week once more. To Damien dropping his shirt he peeled off after ripping open the bag of salt with his bare hands. To when he slowly turned his head and looked up at where I stood at my bedroom window. My heart pounded as we held each other’s gaze. My face felt like it was set on fire, and when he slowly smiled and then winked, I squeaked and ducked down like a child, feeling as if I’d gotten caught doing something wrong.
The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs drew me from my obscene thoughts and back to the present.
