THE REGRET THAT BOUND HER

CHAPTER 4

Uncle John's POV

After taking off my pants, I forcefully pulled hers down too. Not giving her a chance to see my c**k, I slid a finger into her. She rolls her eyes back and forward. I insert another finger and begin to push it in and out of her.

“Hmmm…”,she moans.

Her moans increase as I add a third finger and move it a bit. I brought them out and tasted them one after the other.

God, she's damn sweet.

My hands massage her boobs again as I get ready to f**k her.

Condoms! I almost forgot.

I put them on and without wasting time, started thrusting forward into her. I buried myself deep inside her with a loud grunt.

She gasped for air.

“Fuckkk….. you're so tight”, I groaned as I gripped onto her hips and thrusted once more.

I held her wrists above her head with one hand and moved the other to her ass. I slam into her once more with her p***y clenching on my c**k.

I then continue thrusting repeatedly. The sounds of my c**k going in and out of her filled the room alongside our moans.

Surprisingly, in the heat of the moment, she pulled off the condom. I became more erratic and picked up speed from there. I thrust deeper, harder, reaching the brink of orgasm. I lost control, my hips pumping hard into her.

“Ahhh….”she screams.

I sat her on my c**k, grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her neck to my head and placed my hand at the back of her head and made her bounce at my pace. I keep thrusting into her with the leg power I have.

“Uncclleee Johhnnn”, she pleads out.

Her moans increase in my neck as her body begins to shake. She cums with a final moan. I continue to f**k her wildly regardless. My hand grips her ass as I chase my own release.

“f**k…yes”, I said as I let out a moan and finally released my c*m into her.

Emily's POV

The pregnancy test sat on the edge of the sink, and the result stared back at me without apology.

Positive.

I slid down the bathroom wall until I was sitting on the cold tile floor, knees pulled to my chest.

My stomach had been aching for weeks. I’d missed two periods. I’d told myself it was stress, that my body was still adjusting to everything.

But part of me had known. I called Samantha, my oldest friend.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Have you told him?” she asked, after I’d gotten through the worst of it.

“No. Not yet. I don’t know how.” I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth. “And I’m terrified Aunt Rachael will find out.”We talked for a long time. By the end of the call, I’d made a decision.

That evening, while Aunt Rachael was out visiting a friend who’d just had a baby, I went to Uncle John’s study. The door was open. He was behind his desk, not looking up.

“Uncle. I need to talk to you.”

“Go ahead. As you can see, I’m busy.” He kept his eyes on the laptop.I told him anyway.He went still.

Then he stood up, slowly, and walked around the desk toward me.“That’s not possible. It was one night. You weren’t careful.” He said it like it was a maths problem. Like I’d made a calculation error.

“I was eighteen,” I said. “You are my uncle.”

His jaw tightened. “You kissed me back.”

“I was scared. That’s not the same thing.”

“By tomorrow morning, I’ll arrange something. It will be taken care of.” His voice was flat. Final.

“You can’t force me to do that.”

“I can, and I will. Think about what happens if Rachael finds out. You’ll be on the street by nightfall. Is that what you want?”

I held his gaze for as long as I could. Then I turned and walked out.

In my room, I pressed my face into the pillow and let out everything I’d been keeping quiet. When the pillow was soaked, I turned onto my back and stared at the ceiling until sleep finally took me.

The next morning, Uncle John told Aunt Rachael I had developed a fever overnight and that he was taking me to see a doctor. She accepted it without question. She even packed me a small bag of snacks for the road.

I didn’t fight back hard enough. I was eighteen, and terrified, and utterly alone. By the time we came home, it was done.

I was eighteen years old, and I had already survived more than most people survive in a lifetime.

I told myself it was over but I was wrong.

• • •

The weeks that followed were the quietest kind of unbearable.

Aunt Rachael’s warmth, which had once felt genuine, began to curdle.

Some mornings she would look at me across the breakfast table as though she already knew something, though she never said what. Her comments sharpened. Small things at first —remarks about the way I dressed, how long I spent in the bathroom, whether I’d thanked her properly for a meal.

Then, one morning, she didn’t bother with subtlety.

“You think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” she said, not looking up from her coffee. “A little troublemaker, ruining this family’s name.”

I set down my spoon and looked at her.I didn’t ask what she meant. I already knew she wouldn’t give me the truth.

Whatever Uncle John had told her, whatever version of events she’d constructed in her mind, I was the villain in it. That much was clear.

I went upstairs, packed everything I owned into one bag, and left before dark.