Forbidden Touch

Nora  The gates of the Vance estate swung shut behind the silver sedan Through the tinted glass, the estate appeared larger than I had imagined. It was a stark contrast to the modest suburban home I had spent the last four years finishing my undergraduate studies. Isn't it breathtaking, Nora? Her mother, Eleanor, beamed from the front passenger seat; Arthur made sure the north wing was perfectly renovated for us. It's huge, Mom, I said quietly adjusting the strap of my handbag. It looks like a museum. “It's home now,” Eleanor corrected gently. Sitting beside Eleanor was Arthur Vance, a fifty-two-year-old, polished, smooth-talking head of the Vance Development Group. When the car pulled up to the grand front portico, an attendant opened my door. Stepping out into the crisp autumn air, I took a deep breath, trying to steady the persistent flutter of anxiety in my chest. Everything about this place felt automated, as if it were designed to make people feel small Standing at the foot of the main staircase was a man waiting for us. He wasn't Arthur. Where Arthur possessed a soft, approachable air of corporate charm, this man looked as if he had been carved out of dark slate. Tall, and impeccably tailored in a charcoal three-piece suit, without a tie, he radiated an intense authority that immediately halted the background noise in the room. His eyes were coldly swept across the entryway before settling on me. He was super gorgeous and I couldn't take my eyes off him. I was already beginning to imagine this man on my p***y licking and f*****g me, my legs shaking” me screaming his name and begging him to f**k me harder; just the thought of it had already gotten my p***y all wet and driping, snapped out of it, I said to myself.” but it was almost impossible to overlook this fine man. I hated how my body was reacting to my so-called step-uncle at the very first meeting. Not even realizing that I was in a room full of people. Nora. “My mom called out, distracting my thoughts. This is your Father's younger brother, Julian. “His gaze shifted from his brother to me. It was an exacting, deliberate not polite glance, that felt almost physical. His dark eyes moved slowly over her face, down the column of her neck, taking in her modest sweater and dark trousers before returning to meet my eyes. Gosh, those eyes were doing a lot to me more than I thought. A sudden sharp heat spiked her cheeks. The arousal. Nora, Julian said my name with a slow deliberate weight. He extended a hand toward her. Welcome to the estate. “Thank you, Mr Vance,” she murmured her voice sounding far quieter than she intended. It's Julian, he corrected softly. His eyes never leaving mine, we are family now. Unpacking took longer than I had expected, primarily because I found myself constantly distracted by the quiet, heavy atmosphere of the estate. My suite in the east wing was luxurious, featuring a king-sized bed, a private balcony overlooking the manicured lower gardens, and an adjoining bathroom. Just then I pictured myself with Julian in this massive bed; the thought of him had driven me insane, I lay back on my bed, unbuttoning my simple laced bra. My breath caught as I zoomed in for a second. I imagined what it would be like to have his hand on my hair. His mouth on mine; I just knew this type of man would be rough in f*****g. I smiled. I shouldn't have been thinking like this not about my step-uncle. He was now related to me, but that didn't stop my body from wanting him even more. Before I realized what I was doing, my hand slipped beneath the blackest. It started small……just my fingers brushing against my thigh, tracing lazy circles. But the image of him was too vivid. The way his lips curved when he had introduced himself to me. The hot body of his which I already bet has a massive d**k. I bit my lips as my breath quickened, heat pooled between my legs, shame curling with immense desire. I closed my eyes and pictured him leaning over me, breath hot against my ear, voice low and deep. “You like this don't you?” A soft moan came out of me, as I began to pump my fingers in and out of my p***y, my other hand wandered up to my breast circling a n****e through the thin fabric of my bra. I pinched it gently, my lips quivering as goosebumps rose on my skin. My legs bent at the knees, feet flat on the bed as I stared up at the ceiling, my breath coming in short pants. My p***y juiced coated fingers, slick and warm while I added another finger circling my swollen c******s with a slow, torturous precision. A coil of pleasure tightened with each stroke. I pumped harder, faster, my body moving in rhythm with my hand. Shock waves rippled through me, striking low in my belly and spreading outward. I twisted the sheets between my fingers, my knuckles tightening as sensation washed over me in relentless waves. My back arched higher, my hips lifting off the bed, and I moaned loudly, my voice raw with need, my legs twitched as my thighs trembled nearing orgasm. And then I was falling, my body convulsing as I squirted, my juices spraying everywhere, but I didn't stop; my fingers slammed into cunt, my c**t throbbing under my touch as I sprayed everywhere. In my mind, my uncle was here, his rough grip, his mouth closing my n****e, his fingers joining mine. I chanted his name; my voice was hoarse and desperate. Juuulian please don't stop. I begged, my body bucking as I c*m hard, my juices coating my hand and dripping onto the sheets. By nine o'clock, the house had settled into an absolute, dense quiet. Wearing a simple silk nightgown, I slipped out of my room barefoot, heading toward the main floor to find a glass of water. The floorboards were cool beneath my feet, the corridors illuminated only by low, recessed footlights that cast deep, velvety shadows across the wood paneling. As I neared the central atrium, the deep, measured cadence of voices echoed from Arthur’s primary study. The heavy oak doors were cracked open an inch, spilling a yellow line of light across the dark floor. I shouldn't have stopped, but my name caught the air before I could step past.