by Dani René
All fucking woman.
Pushing the button on the automated shower system, I wait a moment for it to heat before stepping under the warm spray.
Every muscle in my body is tense, needing relief and release. Gripping my shaft, I stroke it to images of her in those tiny skirts she loves to flaunt her ass in. Her breasts — a perfect handful — taunt me from her skin-tight tank tops. Her long, jet-black hair, which I’d love to wrap around my fist while I’m pounding into her for being a naughty little girl, has my body shuddering with a release that elicits a groan from my mouth.
Opening my eyes, I lather up and try to wash the memories of what I’ve just done away; however, I know I can’t. Once I’ve rinsed the suds away, I turn off the shower and step out into the chilly bathroom, grabbing a towel. Wrapping it around my waist, I place both hands on the basin and stare at my appearance.
When did it all change?
How did she weave herself inside me?
I’m a man-whore, I love women, I love pussy, but right now, the only one I want is her. It’s been a life of being the playboy, but the thought of doing that doesn’t please me anymore. What does bring me satisfaction, is seeing Mila smile.
“Grayson.” A sweet, melodic voice jolts me into the present, and I turn in time to find Mila standing in the doorway. “Can I get a ride to the mall? If you’re going into town?”
She’s changed already, dressed in a white tank top that hugs her tits like a glove, and a pair of shorts which stop high on her slender thighs. A pair of ballet flats adorn her pretty feet, and her long hair is loose down her back in waves.
“Sure, sweetheart.” Stepping toward the door, her green eyes flit down my chest, which is still wet from the shower. Heat burns in those moss-colored pools. “Was there something else?” I question, my body only inches from hers.
She peers up at me with wide, innocent eyes. Her small frame would fit perfectly in mine. “I, uhm . . .” Her words taper off, and I wait for it, hoping with everything I am she’ll say something, to give me consent to kiss her. “I’m sorry about last night. And thank you for giving me a lift.”
They’re not the words I want. The hope that was bubbling in my chest dies like a dried-out bud, and I know I can’t do much unless she gives me the response I need.
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart. I just worry about you. And you know I’d do anything for you.” I lean in, inhaling her scent. Sweet like candy, bubblegum, and cookies. And I’ll be damned, but I want to taste her.
“Anything?” she questions in a sultry, honeyed tone. The playful flirting immerges quickly, and her eyes sparkle with mischief. The air is thick with swirling desire, so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Closing the distance between us, I murmur, “That’s what I said, Mila. I’m yours.” My tone is low and gruff against her ear. “So, you’re welcome to take what you need.”
The promise is so evident, so fucking clear what I want and need from her. Chill bumps dot her smooth skin, and I can’t help the smirk that lifts the side of my mouth.
“I’ll remember that, Uncle Grayson,” she murmurs so quietly I would have missed it if we weren’t so close. I step away, and just like that, the spell is broken.
“Good girl.” I step past her, strolling into my walk-in closet, and retrieve a pair of boxers. When Gabe told me we’d be working together more often, he offered me space in one of the guest rooms. Being so close to Mila was a perk, and I didn’t refuse when he told me I could move some of my things in.
Awareness prickles my skin the moment I straighten to full height. I know she’s still close. Dropping the towel, I step into my underwear, and a faint, audible gasp comes from behind me, and I realize she was closer than I thought.
I turn slowly, hoping to catch her in the act, but when my gaze lands on the door, it’s empty. She must have scurried off after getting an eyeful, and I can’t stop the satisfied chuckle that rumbles through my chest.
Chapter 3
Mila
Jesus, his ass.
Fuck.
Oh. My. God.
As soon as I’m in the safety of my bedroom, I lean against the door and try to calm my heart rate. I don’t know if he knew I was there, but my feet were cemented, and as much as I wanted to run, I couldn’t. His body looked like it was carved out of marble. Thick, muscled thighs, an ass you could probably bounce a quarter off, and his back chiseled to panty-melting perfection.
He’s your uncle, Mila.
Well, step-uncle, if that’s even a thing.
As much as that mantra replays itself in my head, I can’t stop the dirty thoughts of him from running through my mind. A knock at my door jolts me from the images.
“Sweetheart, you ready?” His deep, gruff voice calls to me.
“Yes, I’ll be out in a minute,” I respond, hoping to have a moment to myself.
“Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen. Don’t be too long. I need to get going.”
“Yes, Grayson . . .” I drag out his name, which earns me a chuckle, and I’m sure he’s shaking his head at me.
Even though I have a physical reaction to him, it’s also my heart that seems to be aching each time I see him with someone else. I can’t love him. I mean, of course, he’s family, and I love that he’s around, but . . . Can I really fall in love with a man I can’t have?
Grabbing my phone and purse, I make my way down to the kitchen to find him drinking his coffee. “I’m ready when you are. Where’s Dad?”
Lifting his gaze, he corners me with those deep, chocolate pools. God, how I would love to drown in them. “He’s getting ready now. He’ll meet me at the office,” he responds quickly before downing the last of his drink and grabbing his keys and wallet. As we head out to the car, I can’t help dragging my gaze over the way his shirt hugs his chiseled torso.
When he’s working with Dad, he's styled with formal dress shirts and suits, along with a tie that always matches his handkerchief in the breast pocket of his jacket. However, when he’s on a night out, it’s an experience in itself to see him in jeans and T-shirts that always seem to be painted on his muscular body.
He pulls out of the driveway in silence. Something in the air has the hairs on the nape of my neck raised in anticipation. Reaching over, I turn on the radio, hoping the music will drown out the silence.
“I want to get a tattoo.” The confession spills from my lips, and I turn my inquisitive gaze to his. He doesn’t flinch, eyes trained on the road ahead.
“And what is it you’d like inked on your skin forever, sweetheart?” he questions with an indifferent tone.
I shrug. “I want something small. Nothing over the top, since Dad would kill me.” I smirk playfully at the thought of having the tattoo on me forever.
“And when you’re tired of having it, then you’ll want it removed,” he responds confidently, but still doesn’t meet my gaze. “Where did you plan on getting this tattoo?”
“It’s a surprise. I think I’ll get it today.” Lifting my chin, I inform him of my decision, waiting on a reaction which doesn’t come. All he does is nod.
When we pull up to the mall, he turns a darkened gaze on me. His mouth lifts on one side into a wolfish grin that turns my insides molten. “You do realize your father is going to have a fit when he sees his little girl with ink on her?”
“Possibly, but where I’m planning on getting it, Daddy won’t see it,” I quip playfully with a wink. Hopping out of the car, I blow him a kiss and make my way into the large building that houses an array of stores with incredible designer clothes and a couple of bookstores. There’s even a large cinema. Although, that’s not why I’m here. My appointment is in ten minutes, so I make my way directly to Rusted Ink.
Stepping into the intimidating store, I take in the deep blue and red colors that decorate the walls and chairs. There’s only one other person sitting on the sofa in the waiting area as I approach the counter. “Can I help you?” A thick, husky voice beckons for me, and w
hen I turn around, I’m knocked breathless.
The man must be in his late twenties with dark stubble dusting his jaw. A deep set of green eyes, the color of grass, pin me to the spot, holding me hostage as if he’s got his hands all over me. Tattoos cover every inch of visible skin, and I find myself licking my lips involuntarily.
“You can. I, uhm . . . I’ve made an appointment for ten o'clock to get a tattoo.” I step forward, holding out the email confirmation. He glances at the book in front of him and nods.
“Mila,” he affirms in a smoky tone. “I’ll be doing you today. What are you getting, and where do you want it?” His question catches me off guard because of the way he says it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about a tattoo, more like an invitation to find out what he’s hiding in his boxers.
I may look innocent, but I’m far from it, so I know when a man’s tone changes from an everyday one to a low, growly rasp that’s filled with lust. That’s how I know Grayson wants me because I’ve heard it in his voice before.
“I’m getting the word sweetheart on my lower abdomen, just beneath my belly button. I want a script font that looks like handwriting.” I point to where my shorts currently hang low on my waist, and he nods.
“Great. Let’s get you in the back.” He pushes off the stool, and as soon as I enter through the black door, the sound of a needle buzzing grabs my attention. There are two cubicles separated by curtains, and the tattooed man ushers me into the empty one on the left. He points to the empty bed. “Lie down and shift those shorts down so I can see what I’m working with.” He heads back into the main area of the store while I close my eyes, inhaling deep breaths.
Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts, I shrug them down just enough for him to be able to see where I want to be inked. When he returns with his phone in hand, his green eyes take in my position, and his gaze darkens considerably when he notices the sheer black material of my panties.
He doesn’t say a word while he works, cleaning the area on either side of my hip bones and along my stomach, which is fluttering with nervous energy. “Did you have a personal preference on color, or are you happy with just black?” I notice he’s got two printouts of the script I sent them when I made my booking.
“Black is perfect. Thank you.” I offer a shy smile, and I’m afforded a wicked one in return. One that slowly disintegrates my nerves and has my heart thudding in my chest.
My father is going to kill me, but I can’t deny the thrill of doing something forbidden. I close my eyes and think of Grayson’s hungry gaze filled with desire. Soon, he’ll see me as a woman, and then I’ll make sure he shows me exactly how badly he wants to spank me.
Chapter 4
Gabriel
“Is that all you needed from me?” My brother nods. The meeting went well since we’ve just signed a deal with an affluent software company to have them on our books. We’ll be doing all their marketing and upcoming branding campaign.
“Yeah, they’ll email us the finalized contract, and we’re good to go,” he affirms with a nod. Grayson and I didn’t have the easiest childhood growing up, and since we partnered up to open Connor Media, we’ve grown closer. “I wanted to take my niece out for her birthday,” he says smoothly, meeting my gaze. I know he loves younger women, and my protective instincts kick in when he mentions Mila.
“Oh?” My response clipped, and I get the look. He narrows his dark eyes, fixing them on me. Even though he’s younger, he’s got a good head on his shoulders. At thirty-two, he’s four years my junior, but the way he conducts business, you’d never guess.
“I figured since you’ll be taking Brigitte to Miami that weekend, I could take Mila somewhere special.” We’ve had this conversation too many times. He knows how I feel about her being alone with him. His feelings for her have shifted over the past few years, and since she’s turned nineteen, I’ve seen the way she looks at him.
“Is that a good idea? Being alone with her?” Grabbing my phone and wallet, I push off the chair and stalk around the desk but don’t meet his stare. My phone rings and I ignore him and swipe my finger over the screen. “Hello, Princess,” I murmur, even though I know he can hear me.
“Dad, I’m done. So, whenever you’re ready, I’ll wait at entrance four.” Her tone is chirpy like she’s up to no good, which I can only imagine is the tattoo Grayson mentioned earlier. “Oh, and say hello to Uncle Grayson.” She giggles before hanging up.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m responsible. She will be safe with me, and we have fun.” He chuckles, but I pin him with an angry glare.
“Don’t be an asshole. You think I don’t notice the flirting between you two?” He doesn’t respond, only laughs, but the twinkle in his eyes tells me all I need to know. “I need to go.”
“Tell her Uncle Grayson says he’s bringing her some treats this weekend,” the gruff tone of my brother calls after me as I head out the door. I don’t respond; he’s acting like a pompous ass, as usual.
Slipping into the plush leather seat of my Benz, I turn on Mila’s favorite playlist on the iPod and head toward the mall. I know she’s gotten a tattoo, and if I have to be honest, I can’t fault her for it. She’s an adult, and even if I denied her getting one, she’d do it anyway.
Since her mother died three years ago, I’ve wanted her to move in with her aunt, her mother’s sister, but she refused. Saying she’d rather spend time in the home where her mother was last. It made her feel closer to the woman she lost. I wanted her away from Grayson, but if she’s adamant he’s the one for her, I’ll support them, just as long as my brother turns his life around.
Even though there were times she frustrated me with her rebelliousness, she’s never been a disruptive teen. As a child, she preferred sitting in her bedroom reading or working on her art projects. She now has two months before she heads off to college, and I’m afraid. I’ll never admit it, but I’d prefer if she stayed in the city, went to study at a local school rather than head off to New York or someplace where I can’t see her every day.
Pulling up to the mall, I find entrance four easily. Before the car comes to a stop, Mila comes bounding toward the car with the biggest grin on her face. She pulls the door open, and I see her wince. “Hello, Dad.” She leans in, and her candy floss scent hits me immediately. Planting a chaste kiss on my cheek, she sits back to regard me. “How’s Uncle Grayson?”
“Fine.” I can’t help feeling a twinge of wariness at their connection. I’m not scared of her loving him. I just want him to make a choice. If it is Mila he wants, it should only be her he’s with. They’re not related by blood, and I don’t know how to handle seeing them together. Because deep down, I know Grayson cares for her. More than I’d like to admit.
“Just fine? How was the meeting?” She’s always been interested in our work, and I have a feeling she’ll major in advertising, which makes me proud I’ve had such a profound effect on her.
“It went well. We signed the deal. We’ll be doing all their marketing and rebranding,” I tell her proudly as we head home. The song changes and she squeals in delight at the band on the radio.
“That’s great. I wish I could work for you,” she murmurs, and I cut a quick glance at her. She pouts playfully, and I can’t help chuckling. I’d like that too, and I’m sure my brother wouldn’t mind at all.
“You can if you’d like to, of course?” I hint, and her gaze darts to mine.
She blushes shyly, her voice lower when she responds, “I do, but I’ll need to finish school first.”
I nod in agreement. Broaching the subject, I answer cautiously, “Then why not stay in Seattle to study?” We’ve spoken about this when she was sixteen, and even when she’d turned seventeen, but she’s always refused.
She’s quiet for a long while, and I feel as if I fucked it up.
I pull into our driveway and park the car. Once the engine is turned off, I turn to face her fully. “Mila, I didn’t mean to—”
“Yes.
” Her deep green pools regard me. A smile lights up her face. “I’d like to stay here, in Seattle I mean, and with you.” Her voice drops on those last two words, and I tip my head to the side.
“You do?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She turns and once again, I see the wince.
“Are you okay, Princess? You look like you’re in pain?” I question calmly, knowing exactly why. I wonder if she’ll tell me about the goddamn tattoo Grayson told me about.
“I’ll show you inside. Let’s go, I’m hungry,” Mila says quietly. Without waiting for me, she pushes her door open and leaves me in the car staring after her. Exiting the Benz, I lock it and follow my princess up to the house. When I enter, she’s in the kitchen leaning against the island drinking a glass of juice.
“So,” I prompt, stalking toward her, keeping my eyes trained on her. “Am I going to see how you mutilated your body?” Her eyes widen in shock, and her mouth drops open, and then closes again. “I’m not stupid, Mila, and I wasn’t born yesterday. Let’s see.” I gesture with my chin.
I have tattoos, and a piercing which was a drunken mistake; however, after I got it done, my girlfriend didn’t complain, so I kept it. Even Mila’s mother enjoyed the sensation.
Watching my little girl unbutton her shorts has me wondering just what the hell she did. My heart hammers against my rib cage painfully, and I have to stifle a groan when she shoves her shorts down just below her panty line. There, between her hip bones, is the word sweetheart.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
“You got a fucking tattoo, Mila?” I growl. Her head snaps up so fast, and her brows furrow in confusion at my outburst. Fuck. Even I’m confused at my outburst. But I realize it’s not that she got it, it’s that she must have had to drop her pants for a stranger. I hope to god it was a woman who did the ink on her body.
“I thought you—”
“Tell me it was a woman who did it?” Scrubbing my hands over my scruffy jaw, I try to calm myself down, but the image of my daughter lying on a table while some fucker touched her drives me fucking crazy.