Spoiled By My Ex-Mate Uncle

Chapter 3

SKYLAR_POV

The world tilted violently as strong hands hauled me through the doorway, my vision swimming with the sickening blend of drugs and terror coursing through my veins. Laughter—crude, mocking—echoed behind me as the men dumped me onto the bed, the impact sending a fresh wave of dizziness through my skull. The sheets smelled stale, the mattress lumpy beneath my trembling body.

I tried to push up, to run, but my limbs refused to obey. My muscles were liquid, my thoughts sluggish, as if my mind had been submerged in thick syrup.

No. No, no, no—

The door creaked open again, and my stomach lurched.

An old man in his fifties stepped inside, his potbelly straining against his cheap black suit, his beady eyes glinting with hunger as they raked over my helpless form. Saliva glistened at the corners of his thin lips.

"Good work, boys," he chuckled, his voice like greedy. "She’s perfect."

The men behind him snickered, their voices fading as they stepped aside, paving a way for him to get to me.

Panic clawed up my throat, raw and suffocating.

This can’t be happening.

He moved closer, his stubby fingers already working at his belt. "Don’t worry, sweetheart," he crooned. "I’ll make it good for you."

Bile rose in my throat. His fingers—stubby, wrinkled—reached for the hem of my dress.

No. No. No—

I thrashed, but my body wouldn’t obey. Tears burned my cheeks.

Just as his fingertips grazed my thigh—

Click.

The bathroom door swung open.

Every head snapped toward the sound.

And then he stepped out.

Time froze.

Water dripped from his dark hair, trailing down the hard planes of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, down the tantalizing V that disappeared beneath the towel slung low on his hips. His body was sculpted—powerful, primal, every inch of him radiating dominance. He smelled clean and aftershave.

But it was his face that stole the breath from my lungs.

Sharp jaw shadowed with stubble. Piercing, cold eyes that swept across the room like a predator assessing prey. A mouth that looked like it knew exactly how to ruin a woman.

And goddess, the size of him—even half-hidden by the towel, the thick outline of his c**k twitched, straining against the fabric.

My thighs clenched.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The old man recovered first, he sputtered, his face flushing with outrage. "W-who are you? What the hell are you doing in here?"

The stranger didn’t even blink. "This is my room." His voice was deep, a rumble that vibrated through my bones and sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

The old man scoffed, puffing out his chest. "Bullshit! I’ll check the keycard, and when I prove you’re lying—"

One of his lackeys fumbled with the card reader. The light blinked red. Then green.

Their faces paled.

"Boss," one whispered, "we—we got the wrong suite."

The old man’s face purpled. But instead of backing down, his lip curled at the man. "Doesn’t matter. Get out. I’ve got business with the girl."

Silence.

A slow, dangerous smirk curled the stranger’s lips.

"Robert Calloway," he mused, stepping forward. "CEO of Calloway Textiles. Married to Elaine Calloway for twenty-three years. Father of two." His smirk sharpened. "Funny how the contract you signed with Malay City fell through, isn’t it? I’m beginging to have second…thoughts."

The old man froze.

Recognition—then terror—flashed across his face. "Y-you’re—"

"Get out."

The words weren’t loud.

They didn’t need to be.

The old man scrambled backward so fast he tripped over his own feet. His lackeys bolted, the door slamming shut behind them.

And then it was just me.

And him.

The towel.

The eyes.

The quiet, predatory stillness of a man who knew exactly what he did to women.

I should’ve been relieved.

So why did I feel like I’d just jumped from the frying pan into the fire?

The air crackled, thick with something I couldn’t name. My skin burned under his gaze, my pulse hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it.

The air between us was thick with something dangerous—something primal—as he stepped closer, the towel slung low around his hips doing nothing to hide the raw, masculine power of his body. Every inch of him was carved like a god, his skin still damp from the shower, water droplets clinging to the dark trail of hair leading beneath the towel. My mouth went dry.

My traitorous body ached for him.

No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, the heat pooling low in my stomach was unbearable, my skin tingling with need. I clenched my thighs together, but it only made the throbbing worse.

He stopped at the edge of the bed, his golden eyes burning into me, watching, waiting. Then—

The towel slipped.

Oh.

Oh.

My breathe hitched.

There, between his powerful thighs, his c**k stood thick, angry and heavy, veins running along its length, the tip already glistening with arousal. My lips parted on a silent gasp, my body reacting before my mind could catch up—my legs spread on their own, my hips tilting toward him in shameless invitation.

A slow, wicked smirk curled his lips.

"You want this, little rascal?" His voice was rough, taunting, like he already knew the answer.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.

All I could do was nod.

But then—cruel man—he reached down, grabbing the towel and wrapping it back around his waist, his smirk turning into something darker. "Leave."

What?

Humiliation tore through me. A whimper tore from my throat before I could stop it. My body burned, my n*****s pebbling against the thin fabric of my dress, my cunt dripping. I couldn’t just leave. Not like this.

Before I could second-guess myself, I scrambled forward, my fingers digging into his hips as I pressed myself against him, my breasts flattening against the hard planes of his chest.

"P-please," I begged, my voice shaking.

His jaw clenched, his muscles tensing under my touch, but he didn’t push me away.

Encouraged, I rose onto my toes, my lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss.

That was all it took.

A growl ripped from his chest, his control shattering as his hands fisted in my hair, yanking my head back. "You asked for this, little girl," he snarled—before his mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss was brutal.

His tongue plunged into my mouth, claiming me, owning me, his teeth nipping at my lips like he wanted to brand me and I gasped. I melted against him, my fingers clawing at his back, desperate to get closer.

Then his hands were on me—rough, demanding—ripping my dress apart like it was nothing. The fabric pooled at my feet, leaving me bare before him. His gaze raked over my body, lingering on my breasts, my hips, the slick arousal already shining between my thighs.

"f**k," he growled.

In one swift motion, he tossed me onto the bed, my back hitting the mattress as he loomed over me, his towel forgotten on the floor.

And then he pounced.

His mouth was everywhere—sucking bruises into my neck, biting my n*****s until I cried out, his tongue lapping at the sensitive peaks before trailing lower, lower—

Then his breath was there, hot against my soaked folds.

I shuddered.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Dripping for me like a f*****g slut."

A cry escaped me as his tongue licked a slow, torturous stripe up my slit. My back arched off the bed, my fingers twisting in the sheets.

"I…I—"

He didn’t let me finish.

His mouth closed over my c**t, sucking hard, his fingers plunging into me without warning. I screamed, my hips bucking against his face as he f****d me with his fingers, curling them just right, hitting that spot inside me that made my vision white out.

"Come for me," he ordered against my cunt.

And I did.

My orgasm ripped through me like lightning, my thighs clamping around his head as I sobbed his name. But he didn’t stop—his tongue kept working me, his fingers pumping in and out, dragging the pleasure out until I was shaking, oversensitive, begging for mercy.

Only then did he pull back, licking his lips like a predator savoring its meal.

But he wasn’t done.

In one brutal thrust, he filled me, his c**k stretching me to the brink, my walls fluttering around him. A broken moan tore from my lips as he bottomed out, his hips flushed against mine.

"Who do you belong to?" he demanded.

"You!" I sobbed.

He f****d me like a man possessed—hard, deep, each snap of his hips driving me closer to the edge again. The bed creaked beneath us, his thrusts brutal, each one dragging a moan from my throat. His teeth scraped over my neck, his voice a rough growl in my ear.

"Mine."

The word sent a shockwave through me.

Then—pain.

His teeth sank into my shoulder, the mark searing into my skin as pleasure and pain collided, sending me spiraling over the edge.

I screamed his name.

And he roared mine.