Page 15 of The Weight of Your Wishes

I lather his soap all over my body, and all I can think about is him standing in this very spot, soaping up his own skin. His hands moving over his hard chest, down his stomach, and through the hair there, all the way down to his cock. It hangs heavily between his legs, thick with big veins spidering all around it. A pained groan escapes my throat, and my heart thuds rapidly in my chest.

Fuck it. I wrap my hand around the base of my dick and squeeze. A shudder ripples through me, and I pant as I picture Uncle Grant doing the same. He totally does. He definitely strokes his massive, hard cock right here under this shower head.

My hand strokes from root to tip at a frenzied pace.

I bet he grunts and bares his teeth when he comes. It’s probably a vicious thing.

A low whine rips from me, and it’s almost agonizing how badly I need him suddenly. I need him to bend me over in here and fill me with those thick fingers, then his much thicker cock. I shuffle my feet apart and lean forward a bit until my cheek is pressed against the wall. I rub one soapy finger over my hole, and it slides in easily enough. A shiver shoots down my spine. I’m getting antsy—need more and faster. I work another finger in, and my walls ripple around them, squeezing, still needing more, but this will have to do.

My hand works my dick, and my fingers plunge in and out of my hole, and I feel it building. I imagine it’s him thrusting into me from behind, his big body crowding me like a cage, strong arms wrapped around me, his beard scratching into my back as he ruts into me like an animal because he can’t resist it any longer.

I crush my lip between my teeth to stifle whimpers and moans as my orgasm slams through me. My eyes squeeze shut, and I taste blood on my tongue as my cum spurts onto the tiled floor.

I watch the water wash it down the drain as I attempt to calm my panting breaths, my heart pounding so hard it feels as though it may rip from my chest.

My eyes burn as I turn off the water. I sniffle a bit, suppressing the unwanted emotion.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me—daddy issues or something. Because I’ve never been crippled like this with desire over another person, male or female. No. It just had to be my childhood crush—a man much older than me, a man who was once in love with my own mother.

And I think that maybe it makes me want him even more.

I dry off and walk into my room, quickly dressing in a pair of gym shorts and a long-sleeve shirt. Then, I pad down the hallway and into the kitchen area where Grant’s setting two plates down at the table. He looks up at me, strands of wavy hair framing his face, but his eyes track downward. They stop on my shorts, and my brow furrows in confusion. “You don’t like my shorts?” I ask as I take a seat. Looks like he made us some sort of hot ham and cheese sandwiches.

He clears his throat. “No, they’re fine. Just very… short. And bright.” I look down at my lap; he does have a point. They’re neon green.

“I prefer them short. I’ve got great legs—best to accentuate what you’ve got.” I beam back at him.

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile. “If you say so.”

“I don’t always wear such bright colors. Most of the time, I dress pretty neutral, but I do like prettying it up sometimes.” Grant looks me in my eyes, and this close, I can see how brown his eyes are. They’re medium-brown with flecks of amber. I bet they have so much depth in the sunlight.

A hard knock interrupts me from my dreams, and I turn toward the door as a woman walks in. She has dark brown hair that’s curled away from her face and glasses. She’s wearing a flowy, yellow dress, and wow—she is stunning.

“Veronica,” Grant says. He stands up, his chair scuffing along the floor loudly as he does. “I thought we agreed to wait a while.”

She smiles, raising her brows in surprise. “I know, I know. But I was driving home from the office, and I figured I’d stop by. You know I have that work trip this week, so I thought we’d better spend some time together.” Her voice is a bit deep in a sexy kind of way, and I can feel the big crush inside of me wilting in on itself. This is the type of person Grant likes—high-powered, sultry, brunette women.

I swallow the lump in my throat and stand up to greet her. I reach out my hand. “Hey, I’m Hendrix. His.. um, pseudo-nephew.” Jesus fucking Christ. My stomach squeezes at those words.

She looks at me knowingly as she shakes my hand. “So, you’re the troublemaker?”

I carefully school my expression into one of nonchalance, but I flinch and shudder on the inside. Is that what Uncle Grant told her I am? The troublemaker.

He sidles up next to me, clasping my shoulder gently. “He just needs some time to get his head back on straight.”

His words somehow batter me even more. I clear my throat. “I’m gonna go sleep. It’s been a long day.” I turn and head back into the hallway. Distantly, I hear their hushed voices bickering back and forth with one another. I take one last look and immediately regret it. Her arms are wrapped around him, her face buried in his neck. My spine goes stiff, freezing me to the spot. She turns her head to the side, planting a kiss on his cheek—a long, slow one, the type of kiss that conveys comfort. But as she pulls away, her eyes meet mine. They widen momentarily before narrowing. The hairs on my arms stand on end.

She knows.

Holy fuck—she knows.

I hurry back into my room, shutting the door firmly behind me. Blood rushes in my ears, and I may lose it. Quickly, I scramble to the window, sliding it open. I root around in my duffle bag for another pack of cigarettes because no way in hell am I going back out there. I finally find them and light one immediately. I inhale until my chest aches and burns.

After a few long drags, my nerves start to calm down. I stare into the darkness of the lush forest, getting lost in the swaying leaves.

It doesn’t matter what she thinks she knows. I’ll just have to prove otherwise.

That’s all I can do.

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