Cherry Popper(16)

The music fades enough that I can hear her friend. "See ya later, Lace. You better find out what your uncle wants."

I don't turn around as I leave the sound of shifting chairs and feminine whispers outside and walk back to my office.

Each minute I wait my cock grows harder and harder, as if I even thought that was possible.

Before everything happened, before both of our parents died, I dated all the time. After all, I was the Bishop heir, the honored son born late in life to tycoon Billings Bishop. Women of all ages willingly spread their legs for me.

That was three years ago. When my fucking world imploded, so did my sex life. It's difficult to get it up when you suddenly have more responsibility than you can handle. And then once it all evened out, once I got a handle on everything, I saw the women for what they were, sluts after my name and money. That was until Lacy, until I saw her differently.

No longer is she just my niece, my stepsister's daughter. Lacy is a woman.

Her name isn't Bishop, but it could be. And as for the money, she has that, or will when she gets a few years older.

The door to my office opens, slowly, very fucking slowly, and my focus zeroes in on my niece.

Amused, I lean back in my chair and wait. I'm disappointed that she has a large beach towel now wrapped around her body, but that's all right. I know it won't be there long. With her sunglasses now on her head, wide orbits of green—turquoise, really, the color of water in the Caribbean—stare back at me.

"Shut the door," I say.

"I-I'm sorry, Uncle Max."

Her arms are covered with goose bumps, and I can't help but wonder if the cause is the air-conditioning or me. I know I can be intimidating in business. It's what I do, but is Lacy anxious?

Maybe she should be.

As pool water drips from her long hair, a small puddle begins to form near her bare feet.

I nod my head and tilt my eyes toward the floor. "You're dripping."

Lacy pulls the edge of the towel, the part tucked near her boobs, and unwraps her body. It's like fucking Christmas, and I can't help but stare as she drops to her knees to dry the floor.





Lacy on her knees. It's every man's fantasy.

Fuck that!

It's my fantasy. I'll kill any other man who has fantasies about my niece, rip them apart, limb by limb.

"Come here," I demand.

As Lacy starts to stand, I correct her. "No, Lacy, stay on your knees. Crawl to me."

Her cheeks flush as her turquoise eyes look down and then back up, questioning me through her long lashes. She seems to be considering what I'm telling her to do, her mind fighting what we both know is proper and what our bodies crave. I know it isn't just mine, not just my dick that wants to slide into her warm, wet cunt, because I can smell her desire. Moments earlier, as she turned her ass toward me wiping the floor, I saw the wetness on the crotch of her bathing suit. It isn't from the pool; if it were, it wouldn't be a different shade than the rest of her suit. If it were from the pool, her slender thighs wouldn't glisten as they slide nervously over one another.

Taking a deep breath, she begins crawling forward. Her pert, round tits sway, precariously hanging from the hammock of her bikini top as she nears my chair. I spread my legs wide, as inch by inch she moves. Finally she's eye level with my straining cock. Has she ever seen a man's dick, a real man, not some boy?

I clench my teeth. The thought of a boy's cock near her fills me with inexplicable rage.

I push away the unease that threatens to derail my desires and ask her what I need to know. "Do you see what you do to me?"

Her eyes veil as she nods, swallowing visibly.

"With you walking around here in nearly nothing, how am I supposed to get any work done?"

Her hands are still on the floor, as she looks up at me from all fours. "I'm sorry, Uncle Max. I could—" Her voice stammers. "—h-help you."

My heart thumps with electricity, the jolt painful as it travels directly to my cock. Soon the poor zipper won't hold. I imagine the metal teeth breaking, individual pieces scattering upon the floor as my dick springs free.

"Sit up, Lace, on your knees."

She does as I say, her back straight as her painted toes offer her support and her firm ass rests on the back of her calves.

"Tell me the truth, have you ever 'helped a man out' before?"

Again, she swallows. Time stands still until she shakes her head slowly, her long wet hair skirting over her back, past the small ties of material holding her tits captive. Damn, she's killing me.

"Has anyone ever 'helped you out'?"

This time her gaze leaves mine. "Yes." Her answer is barely a whisper.

I grip the arms of my large throne-like chair as she kneels at my feet. My teeth clench and I feel my skin prickle. "Who? Tell me."