Sweetest Darkness…

Mari. I stumbled back with a sharp gasp, the sound catching in my throat as the reality of what I’d just witnessed hit me like ice water. What the hell was I thinking? Standing there gawking at my own uncle, eyes locked on the way his strong hand worked that thick shaft, his quiet groans still ringing in my head. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out, heat exploding across my face and rushing down my body. “So, so sorry.” My core clenched hard, fresh slickness coating my thighs from just the sight of him. I backed away in a blind panic, yanking the door closed behind me before spinning around and bolting down the hallway. My heart slammed against my ribs, but it wasn’t pure fear pushing me—it was a toxic blend of humiliation and raw, forbidden need. What kind of twisted person openly stared at her uncle like that, practically drooling over him? My breathing came in short, ragged bursts that did nothing to ease the heavy throb between my legs. In the back of my mind, his low, rough voice kept replaying, sending fresh sparks racing along my spine. I pictured him using that same commanding tone to tell me to kneel, to spread wide for him, to open my mouth and take everything he gave until I couldn’t breathe. A dark shiver rolled through me, tightening my n*****s into hard peaks beneath my top. “Get it together, Marina,” I whispered fiercely as I reached the stairs, legs unsteady. “This is completely messed up.” Yet all I could think about was getting myself off. The need pulsed through every inch of me like wildfire. I desperately wanted to sink my fingers into my dripping heat and rub my aching c**t until I fell apart. I took the stairs two at a time, thighs trembling, silently praying I could reach the downstairs bathroom before I completely lost control. When I hit the bottom, Gina was already there in a tiny red bikini that barely qualified as clothing. Thin straps crisscrossed her body, barely covering her n*****s and the smooth mound between her legs. I’d seen her undressed plenty of times before, but right now, in my wired state, the sight only stoked the fire higher in all the wrong directions. For one dangerous second, I imagined running my fingers—and my tongue—along those straps. No. Absolutely not. I swallowed hard and forced my gaze away, but the unwanted heat still sliced through me. Gina stepped into my path and touched my arm lightly. The brief contact shot straight to my center like a spark on dry tinder. I jerked visibly, a tiny whimper slipping out before I could stop it. She frowned, looking worried. “Mari? You look awful. Did something happen?” If only she knew. Seeing her father with his powerful body tense, hand stroking that massive c**k while he moaned my name—that image made my empty p***y flutter desperately, begging to be filled. “I’m okay,” I muttered, pulling away from her touch. My skin felt too sensitive, too feverish. I tried to move around her, but she shifted again. “You sure? You’re all red and shaky.” “I said I’m fine,” I gritted out, voice tight. My thighs were slippery now, arousal threatening to trickle down my legs any second. “Just need the bathroom.” “Okay… The housekeeper mentioned Dad’s already back. I thought we could both say hi before he thinks we forgot about him.” Oh, I hadn’t forgotten Damien. Not for a single second. I remembered every hard line of him, the rumble of his voice, and exactly what I wanted him to do to me. “I’ll catch up in a minute. I really have to go right now.” I finally slipped past her and rushed toward the bathroom. “I thought you already went!” she called after me, but I didn’t answer. I burst inside, locked the door with shaking hands, and leaned against the counter. In one frantic tug, I shoved my shorts and panties down. My p***y was swollen, soaked, aching badly. I pushed two fingers inside immediately and gasped at the rush of pleasure. My eyes slammed shut as Damien’s image flooded my mind—his fist pumping that veined length, the swollen head shiny with precum. I thrust hard, curling my fingers to reach that perfect spot while my thumb rubbed frantic circles over my c**t. “Damien…” I breathed, biting my lip to keep quiet. “Yes, just like that.” The climax hit fast and hard. I came with a muffled moan, clamping my free hand over my mouth as my walls pulsed wildly around my fingers, wetness coating my palm. It still wasn’t enough. I spread my legs wider and kept going, imagining his thick c**k stretching me open instead, pounding deep and relentless, punishing me for being so shameless. A second, sharper orgasm tore through me, leaving me breathless and slumped against the wall. Once I could stand again, I cleaned up, straightened my clothes, and stepped out. I greeted Damien politely, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek while ignoring the fresh pulse of heat his scent triggered. He acted completely normal, as if the incident had never happened. I forced myself to laugh at their stories, ate dinner, and avoided meeting his eyes the entire evening. That was hours ago. Now the clock on my nightstand read 11:45 p.m., and I was a complete wreck beneath the sheets. The bedding was tangled around my legs, my skin burning, body restless and unsatisfied. I had tried everything—rubbing myself raw, scrolling through rough porn on my phone filled with dominant men and intense scenes. Nothing worked. The frustration left me throbbing, my thoughts circling obsessively back to the man just two doors away. My body felt too hot, too wound up. My p***y craved more than fingers—something thick and brutal that only Damien’s impressive length could deliver. Since I couldn’t have that, I tossed and turned, slipping my hand between my legs again and again, chasing relief that kept slipping away. When the fever became too much, sweat slicking my skin, I kicked off the covers and climbed out of bed. A glass of cold water might help. I pulled on my shorts—skipping panties entirely—and crept quietly from the room. The house was silent and dark. Everyone should be asleep by now, including Damien. But as I approached his door, intending to slip past unnoticed, I noticed it was ajar. Just a small crack, but enough for warm light to spill into the hallway like an invitation. My feet halted on the cool floor. Don’t, Marina. Keep walking. I glanced down the shadowed corridor, then back at that tempting glow. The pull was too strong. Screw it. Moving like a ghost, I crept closer and peered inside. The room was softly lit by a single lamp. Damien was nowhere in sight at first, and a pang of disappointment hit me. I started to pull back when I heard another door open inside. I leaned in further, breathing shallow, eyes searching. A moment later, Damien stepped out from the bathroom, fresh from the shower. A white towel rode dangerously low on his hips, revealing the sharp V-cut of his pelvis and the dark, damp trail of hair disappearing beneath the fabric. My core clenched hard with sinful need.