CHAPTER 3
MIA
I do, instantly, palms flat on a tower of life jackets that comes up to my waist. The plastic smells like lake water and mildew. He flips my sundress up to my hips in one motion.
“f**k, Mia,” he mutters, fingers sliding under my bikini ties. “Still dripping from earlier. Dirty f*****g girl.”
I whimper, pushing back. “Please, Uncle Chris, quick—”
He doesn’t make me wait. Two fingers hook my bikini bottoms and yank them to the side. Then the thick, blunt head of his c**k is right there, sliding through my folds, coating himself in what he left in the pantry.
“Hold on,” he warns, voice gravel.
One brutal thrust and he’s buried to the hilt.
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. A strangled squeak escapes anyway.
He clamps a hand over my mouth again, forearm across my ches
