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She put her hands on her hips, taking a deep breath. He didn’t like how much pleasure he took at watching the rise and fall of her generous breasts.
“I… I know we have something. Just… I want you.” Her nostrils flared, her face blushing slightly once more. “Okay, fine, I said it. I want you to… fuck me. Look, just once. Once? I…” She ran her hands through her hair, groaning in frustration.
“Jesus Christ, Kelsey.” He looked up and down the street for any onlookers. Fortunately, nobody was even close, aside from a car roaring by now and then. “You need to get out of here. If you do the right thing, the smart thing, you won’t come back tomorrow. You’ll stay away.”
“And if I do?” Her eyes sparkled. “What happens… then?”
He crossed his arms, shaking his head for a moment. He drew a breath, staring at her. He knew he shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t even open the door even a tiny little bit. But he simply couldn’t help it. The images whirling in his mind at the moment were simply too compelling to ignore. “Then we get to have a conversation about doing as you’re told. By me.”
The color drained from her face, but her eyes flashed with the understanding of what he’d just said. “Oh…”
He wasn’t about to give her any more time to think about it though. “Now, go home.”
Then before she could say a single word, he closed the door right in her face, and threw the deadbolt.
What the fuck have you just done?
Chapter 12
She pulled her truck into Max’s driveway, surprised to see him out in the front yard, mowing the grass. The afternoon was bright, unseasonably warm for this early in the spring, the air stifling and humid. All the more reason for her choice of clothing for the day. Picking her sluttiest outfit was surprisingly difficult; she had a lot more scandalous clothing than she ever realized—until it came time to figure out how best to tempt a forty-year-old man. More than that though, she wanted to inflame him, irritate him, knowing that he’d already admonished her before for acting and dressing like a whore.
She’d settled on something simple, but effective—if her read of Max was at all accurate. And she was pretty sure it was. It was a white tank top, so tight her breasts were practically spilling out the top of it—and the sides, too. She didn’t even attempt to use a bra; it would have looked comical, and made it even sluttier and trashier. There was a fine line between enticement and vulgarity.
And she knew she was skirting right up to the edge of it.
The denim shorts she chose were faded and worn, threadbare, cut so high that if she bent over ninety degrees, the lower contours of her buttocks were clearly visible. The panties she’d chosen was her skimpiest, barely there black thong, little more than dental floss down her ass crack. She had no real idea if Max enjoyed thongs, but in her experience, she’d never met a man who didn’t at least like them.
She found it surprising how much she wanted to please him, even in the type of clothing she wore—despite the fact she was intentionally wearing this particular clothing to provoke him. Why did she have such a strange need to make him happy, to gain his approval? She’d have to examine that some other time.
As she brought the truck to a stop halfway up his driveway, Max lifted his head and cut the mower’s motor off. Leaning one hand against the handle, the other wiping sweat off his forehead, he regarded her, squinting a little against the powerful sunlight. He was shirtless in only a pair of cargo shorts and flip-flops, a surprisingly casual sartorial choice for a man she’d always considered to be rather buttoned-up, even formal. There was a lot more about Max that she couldn’t wait to get to know. To understand.
But first she had to be successful in her mission. “You better know what you’re doing, slut.”
Opening the door, she slipped off her seat, walking toward him with her hands shoved into the back pockets of her shorts, knowing how much the position threw out her breasts, emphasizing their weight, their roundness. He couldn’t help but notice. He was a man after all.
“Well, considering your behavior of late I don’t suppose I should be surprised to see you here. But I admit I hoped I wouldn’t.” His eyebrow quirked as he said it, which made her think he wasn’t being entirely serious—though that might have been her fragile ego talking, rationalizing away the seeming cruelty of his words.
“Nice to see you, too, Uncle Max,” she said, emphasizing the last, simply to mess with him, doubling down on her efforts to provoke him. “You want some help with that?”
In truth, she would be less than useless in mowing his lawn. It was on a slope, though not a steep one, but even setting that aside she had no idea how to even operate a lawnmower. But she said the words more to gauge his reaction than anything else.
“Something tells me you didn’t come over here to mow my yard. But you do seem to be full of surprises, of late.”
As she walked closer to him, she tried not to drool, drinking in the breadth of his shoulders, the dark hair thick on his chest, the curve and heft of his broad pectoral muscles. The surprisingly tight abdomen, lean and narrow, was something so rarely seen in older men. In truth, she would have found him attractive anyway, even if he did have a little extra around the middle—it was Uncle Max, after all.
But a man with a body like that was always a bonus.
His legs were long, thickly corded with muscle, especially at the calves, the dark hair there making her want to run her fingers through it. He was well tanned, obviously used to spending lots of time outdoors in the strong springtime Southern sun.
“Since you’re not going to help me with this yard, you can do me a favor instead.” He pointed at her truck. “Bring your rig all the way up to the house. It’s safer in the driveway. Lot of idiots overdriving that road. Less nosy questions, too.”
She tried not to allow herself to get excited, to read into his words, but it was impossible not to wonder exactly what he meant. She scampered back to her truck, grateful she’d chosen cute sneakers, and scrunched down, white athletic socks, completing her casual-slutty look for the day.
Firing up the engine, she drove the rest of the way up until it was parked right behind his pickup. She killed the ignition and slipped out again, slamming the door behind her. She shoved the keys into her pocket, taking her time with it, wondering if the movement of her fingers down there might draw his eye.
She was pleased to see that it did, though he was quite subtle about it, his glance downward discreet, lightning quick.
Not quite subtle enough, Uncle Max.
