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She was glad her face was wet, for a tear slipped down her cheek at the memories, and yet she didn’t understand why they were coming back now, so strongly, so vividly. Yet, they were. It was still, even now, as immediate as if it had happened all yesterday, and just as then Max had been the one to be there for her.
His hand touching her face, smoothing a lock of hair away from her eye snapped her out of the moment, and she pushed those raw emotions down deep, where they belonged. There’d be time to take that memory back out and look at it once more, feel that pain and that loss, and the ache of what might have been.
“What is it, Kelsey girl? What’s on your mind? It’s something, I can see it in your pretty eyes.”
“It’s… it’s nothing, sir. It’s just, what I’m feeling, what you made me feel down there tonight. I don’t know what to make of it. It’s all just… so much. I’m confused, and they… I’m just so glad I’m here with you.”
His grin was so bright and handsome, it filled her with warmth and a joy, and yes, it aroused her, too. But it was that all of those things could be separate and at once one, in a man like this.
A man like Uncle Max.
You’ve got to stop calling him that, Kelsey. It’s… it’s weird.
She’d be the last person to argue that it was not indeed a little odd. But it fit him, and even now, perhaps more than ever, it just seemed right, the feeling that it evoked within her, deep down in a place she didn’t quite understand yet—but was beginning to see the full extent of.
As Max took her more and more in hand, showed her so many things, parts of her she didn’t know existed, she realized once again that she had needs that only he seemed to understand—and desires that she would only ever tell him.
Because he was the only person she could ever trust with them.
Whether or not what she called him was weird or odd… it didn’t matter. It was him. The man who she now knew she wanted more than any man she ever met in her entire life, and the man who she now trusted more than any man in her entire life.
The depth of that feeling, that emotion, it was stirring, and terrifying, her mind spinning, the possibilities, the what-ifs—and even the things she wondered if she shouldn’t have.
With Max, all of it was possible, all of it stirred deep desire within her. Right or wrong… they didn’t seem to matter anymore. Because it was him.
Her breath hitched in her chest as Max’s strong hands took up the weight of her breasts, squeezing them slowly, lifting them, huddling them together as he poured more water over them, holding them both upon the span of his fingers almost delicately. Yet as he did, his gaze flashed with the male lust that only fired hers higher, that possessive, dark, even jealous energy pouring from him as he looked upon her body.
And it was at those times that she felt more than ever his plaything, his possession, the sexual toy to be used however he wanted, as long as it gave him pleasure. Even if it hurt.
“Here we go, beautiful girl,” he said, drawing her up by the hand until she stood in the bath, water sluicing down her skin, her nipples gathering to tight points in the coolness of the air. For a moment, kneeling there by the tub, he simply stared up at her, his eyes coursing unhurriedly over every curve and plane of her body, offered to him for his perusal, his enjoyment; a strong, even strict man surveying all that was his, the soft, yielding flesh of his possession, laid bare for him.
She loved all of it, even if it still embarrassed her, to be the subject of such keen interest and blatant obvious sexual desire. For a woman to be the sexual object of a man who she in turn desired, it was the perfect fit, the elegant clasping of pieces that could only mesh in one way, the perfect way, the perfect match.
Is that what you think he is? Perfect? Oh, Kelsey, you’re in such trouble here.
Then she dropped her head back as Max’s hand slipped between her thighs, covering her sex so gently and yet so possessively, the washcloth in his palm washing her tender, inflamed tissues with such care. And yes, even love.
She moaned once more as he spread open her sex, his thumb frictioning her sensitive clit, her body tensing, that coiling deep in her belly starting once more, his expert, adept touch stirring her desire in a way only Uncle Max seem to know how to do. She wanted him all over again, despite how savagely he’d used her only a few minutes prior.
And yet it was the very nature of his taking of her, the animalistic claiming of her body as his and his alone, the very memory of it deepening her arousal now, her pussy already wet, already seething with the heat far more intense than the soothing warm waters of her bath.
Then he was drawing her out of the bathtub, the smile on his face one of pride, and she wondered what the source of it was. Was it the pride of ownership? Proud of a job well done? Of leaving his possession well fucked, desperate to come, and yet knowing that she didn’t have permission to do so, until her sir granted it?
The soft terrycloth towel was heavenly upon her flesh, the scent of the rosewater he’d used in her bath seeming to be activated by the friction of the fabric upon her skin, the smell all around her. She knew then the scent of that rose would forever evoke this moment, this tiny instant in time where she felt closer to this man than she ever had before. That it was triggered by something so simple, so elemental as a bath, was something she marveled at.
But rather than wonder why, speculating on the real, deeper reasons behind it, she just accepted it. Max had already taught her so many things, but she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps this was his most important lesson of all.
Of living in the now, being present in the moment, enjoying it for what it was… and yet knowing it could never last. It was that ephemeral, transitory nature of it that lent it even more preciousness.
After drying her hair as best he could, he dropped the towel to the tiles, leading her once more in silence by the hand, in a way that made her heart soar and her pussy seethe. He led her that way into the darkness of his bedroom. He said nothing as he picked her bodily off the floor, his immense strength never failing to take her breath away, the feeling of being a little toy in his hands something she would never, ever tire of.
She let him lay her upon the cool covers, and she moaned in immense pleasure as she sank down into the softness, the clean male scent of Max rising all around her, like an embrace of masculine strength, safety, and the knowledge that he would always be there.
And even if that weren’t true, even if it was only a dream that she entertained for this one night, it was a sweet dream indeed.
Max lay down with her and drew her close, wrapping his big, strong body around her tiny one, stroking her hair, kissing the back of her head, his hand coursing so lightly over her skin, following the broad curve of her naked hip. Now and then, that hand squeezed her thigh, testing the flesh there, but not in a way that hurt, rather in a way that made her pussy pulse with need, fanning the burning core of her between her legs.
Then as if he knew exactly the reaction he was engendering within her, he laid his palm upon the side of her head, his thumb stroking her temple, and he kissed her ear, the press of his lips so tender, so gentle they brought tears to her eyes once more.
