Rule Breakers (Off Limits #2) - Nicky James Page 0,22

time, and the snow was piling up.

By the time we got back to his place and parked in the garage, my buzz had simmered somewhat. The residual horniness, in comparison, had grown worse. I was working through ways I could talk Uncle Denver into a little private prelude while we waited to see if Dad took the bait. He’d stated earlier it wasn’t happening, but I could be persuasive.

I liked a challenge.

In the kitchen, Uncle Denver dug a beer from the fridge while I hopped up onto the counter to sit. He tossed the cap into the garbage and downed a long swallow, his eyes never leaving mine. They were intense and serious with a dash of underlying hunger in their depths.

“Don’t I get a beer?”

“You’ve had enough. Any more and you’ll pass out before this night gets started.”

I didn’t argue.

He drank again, the long line of his throat bobbing as he drained over half the bottle. Although he’d shaved that morning, a shadow of scruff had formed on his chin and neck. I loved the way it scraped against my skin when he kissed me.

“What if he doesn’t come?” Uncle Denver had said we’d go ahead without him, but I had a sneaking suspicion he’d renege. It went against his rules.

“He’ll come.”

His first beer finished, Uncle Denver set the empty aside on the counter, his attention mapping every inch of me as his lids drooped to a relaxed half-mast. It was a physical thing when his tension let go. His whole body responded, shoulders coming down an inch, the tightness in his jaw loosening. One beer and the shot he’d taken hours ago at the club wasn’t about to hamper my uncle’s thinking, but the effect on his stress level was monumental.

He collected a second beer from the fridge, but this time he stood in front of me as he drank it, close enough I could reach out and draw him in if I wanted to. It was more fun to watch him watch me. There was an animalistic hunger brewing in his dark eyes. At this rate, I wouldn’t have to beg for anything. All I had to do was look cute and delectable.

The second beer consumed, Uncle Denver moved between my legs, his fingers sneaking under my T-shirt and tickling the bare flesh near my navel. He hummed. “What time is it?” he asked.

I dashed a glance at the clock on the microwave. “A few minutes after two. The bar is officially closed.”

“Roads are bad.”

Fucking snow.

“Then take your time.” I sat straighter, inviting his touch, relishing the tingling pleasure as it radiated through me, centering between my legs.

The smooth pads of his fingers gliding over my skin made the hairs on my arms come to life. I shivered. My cock swelled. Gasping, focusing hard on leveling out my breaths, I closed my eyes and zeroed in on my uncle’s touch as he explored under my shirt. He brushed his thumb over a nipple, moved to the other, pinched it, then let it go. The whole time, his gaze never left my face.

August felt like eons ago, and I’d been craving this kind of attention since the day he’d told me it couldn’t happen again and sent me home.

His hands continued to wander as he buried his face in my neck, inhaling and exhaling with a rumbling growl that caused goose bumps to erupt over my entire body.

“You’re like the forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden. I just want to devour you. Fuck the consequences. Fuck the rules. I’ll break them all for one delicious bite.” He licked over the pulse point on my neck then scored my skin with his teeth.

“I’m not objecting.”

His gentle touch became more sure. Tentative sweeps of fingertips became groping palms. Kneading and squeezing, he touched me all over like he couldn’t get enough. My abdomen, my sides, my pecs, each nipple, around to my back, and down my spine. The whole time, he breathed me in like I was a drug and my essence was the key to his survival.

When he pawed at my cock through my far-too-tight jeans, I whimpered and arched into the touch. He rubbed me with purpose as his tongue lapped at my neck and shoulder and ear. His other hand held me stable, pressing against the center of my back. I needed to shed my clothes. If I was an animal, I’d have presented myself on all fours by now, begging to be filled and fucked.

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