1
The low thrum of conversation and clinking glasses filled Lucien’s sprawling estate. Forty nine looked good on him. His hair had silvered at the temples but he still looked sharp and agile in his tailored charcoal suit. However, his best friend Damien’s attention had long since left him.
It had locked onto his daughter—Lily.
She moved through the living room like she owned the air itself. She’d curled her long red hair tonight, so it spilled down her back and brushed the upper curves of her ass. The black mid thigh dress she wore stretched tightly over her hips that were made for gripping, and breasts so full they threatened to spill with her every movement.
Child bearing hips, he thought to himself, perfectly complete with t**s that made his mouth water.
He remembered the night she moved back home last year. How at the welcome dinner, she’d hugged him pressing her entire soft curvaceous body into his, longer than was necessary for an uncle-niece hug. His c**k had gone rigid against her stomach before he could step back. He’d spent the rest of the evening hard and furious at himself for being a pervert.
Tonight it was worse. Every time she leaned forward and those heavy breasts strained the neckline, his c**k twitched helplessly. He was already aching against the zipper of his trousers, imagining sliding his hand under that dress and finding her bare and wet, then f*****g his fingers into her until she came on his hand right there in front of everyone.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
Damien excused himself with a polite smile and climbed the stairs to the nearest guest room. The door clicked shut behind him. He braced both hands on the vanity and stared at his own reflection. His jaw was clenched and his eyes had gone dark with desire. The unmistakable ridge of his erection tented his pants.
“f**k,” he muttered under his breath. “Get a grip. She’s Lucien’s daughter, your niece. You’re not doing this.”
The door opened a fraction.
Lily slipped inside.
She froze when she saw him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips parted. Her n*****s were visibly straining against the fabric.
“Uncle Damien…” Her voice came out both breathy and shaky. “I—I just needed to use the bathroom. I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
The air between them went electric immediately with tension.
Damien’s gaze dropped before he could stop it. Her eyes followed. She saw the hard obvious outline of his c**k straining against the fine wool of his pants. She didn’t look away. Her throat worked as she swallowed.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. It’s… gotten a mind of its own tonight.”
Lily’s fingers curled at her sides. Slowly, she stepped back and closed the door then turned the lock, its deafening click the only sound.
Then she reached behind herself to unzip her dress, letting it fall.
She wore nothing but a soaked black thong. Her full heavy breasts spilled free. They were pale and tipped with taut dusky n*****s. The scrap of lace between her thighs was visibly wet, clinging to the plump lips of her cunt. She hooked her thumbs in the sides and pushed it down, stepping out of it. Her p***y was soaking with need.
She whispered with a trembling voice. “f**k me.”
