Chapter 11: From A Finger Tip

Huh… huh… huh…

Those were the only sounds she could manage as I worked my fingers inside her.

I was fully dressed for work and had no time to undress or take things further. So I slid two long fingers into her, curling them just right, making her breathless and shaking.

“Don’t die on me,” I murmured.

“Huh… it’s touching the right places,” she gasped.

That’s Zara. My sex-obsessed niece.

I kept a steady rhythm, pressing the heel of my palm against her clit while my fingers stroked that swollen spot inside her. Her thighs trembled around my wrist. She was already soaked, the wet sounds embarrassingly loud in the quiet kitchen.

Zara’s back arched off the counter. One of her hands clutched my shirt, wrinkling the fabric I’d ironed twenty minutes ago. The other fisted in her own hair as another broken moan slipped out.

“You’re going to make me late,” I said, voice low, almost conversational. My fingers didn’t slow. If anything, they moved deeper, scissoring just enough to stretch her.

“I don’t care,” she panted. “Please… just dig in, don’t stop.”

I leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You never care, do you? Always so desperate for it.”

She whimpered in answer, hips rolling against my hand. I could feel her walls tightening, fluttering around my fingers. She was close already — she always was when I touched her like this. Quick, greedy, shameless.

I added a third finger without warning. Her cry cracked in the middle. Her free hand shot down to grab my wrist, not to stop me but to force me deeper.

“That’s it,” I said. “Take it. Come on my fingers before I have to leave.”

Her orgasm hit hard. She clamped down around me, body locking up, a long, shaky “ahh —” spilling out as her juices ran over my knuckles and down my wrist. I kept working her through it, slower now, drawing every last tremor out of her until she was limp and gasping against my chest.

Only then did I pull my fingers free. They glistened under the kitchen light. Zara’s eyes tracked the movement as I brought them to her mouth.

“Clean them,” I told her.

She did eagerly, tongue swirling, sucking them clean while she still trembled. When I finally withdrew them, a thin string of spit connected her bottom lip to my fingertips for a second before it broke.

I straightened my tie, checked my watch. “I’ll be home at six. Be ready.”

Zara slid off the counter on unsteady legs, panties still tangled around one ankle, skirt hiked up. She gave me that familiar, hungry little smile.

“I’ll be waiting,” she said. “And I won’t be wearing anything this time.”

I turned to leave, the taste of her still on my fingers, already calculating how many hours stood between now and the moment I could bury myself in her properly.

My cock was already rising to the task. I looked back.

“Shit,” I muttered. She always got what she wanted.

She stood beside the counter as if she’d known I would turn. Her tits were out, those full white curves and tight red nipples I loved to suck. She jiggled them in her hands, smiling mischievously.

“You forgot breakfast,” she said.

I was across the kitchen in two strides. One hand braced on the counter behind her, the other already cupping a heavy breast, thumb sweeping over the stiffened peak. She arched into the touch with a soft, satisfied sound.

I lowered my head without another word, took one tight red nipple into my mouth, and sucked.

“That's right… Jade… suck it all out,” she moaned.

Ohh, how milky she was, “You'll make me late for work,” I groaned as I went for the second nipple.

She pulled me away slightly and turned to her ass.

Then looked at me with those puppy beautiful eyes.

“Please, Jade… I need you in every part of me now,”

“Zara,” I muttered, trying to control myself from shoving down my neatly ironed pants.

She pushed it in, absolutely knowing my weak point. Her bottoms moved around my cock.

“Argh .. please,” she moaned.

She pushed her soft, rounded ass back against me, the thin fabric of her bottoms sliding over the hard length of my cock. The heat of her through the cloth was maddening. I gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks, grinding forward so the ridge of my shaft nestled between those full cheeks.

“Zara…” My voice came out rough. “You’re going to make me ruin these pants.”

She only looked back over her shoulder, those wide, pleading eyes locked on mine, and rolled her hips in a slow, deliberate circle. The friction dragged a low curse from my throat. I shoved the waistband of her bottoms down in one impatient yank. They caught at her thighs, framing the perfect curve of her bare ass and the glistening seam of her cunt.

I freed myself next; zip down, cock springing heavy and already wet at the tip. The first press of my bare head against her soft folds made us both hiss. She was soaked, milk still beading on her nipples from where I’d sucked her, and the scent of her arousal mixed with that sweet, creamy smell was enough to short-circuit every coherent thought.

I pushed in.

One long, slow thrust buried me to the root. She cried out, high and needy, palms slamming flat on the counter as her body stretched around me. She was hot, tight and perfect. I held still for a second, forehead pressed between her shoulder blades, just feeling the way she fluttered and clenched.

Then I started moving. Deep, steady strokes that rocked her forward with every snap of my hips. The wet sound of it filled the quiet kitchen. Her tits swayed with the rhythm; I reached around and cupped one, thumb and finger pinching the still-wet nipple until she moaned my name like a prayer.

“Jade…fuck me harder!”

I gave her harder. One hand stayed on her breast, the other slid down her stomach and found her clit, rubbing tight circles while I drove into her. She pushed back to meet every thrust, greedy, already trembling. Milk dripped onto the counter. I leaned over her, mouth at her ear.

“You wanted me in every part of you,” I growled. “Then take it.”

I pulled out just long enough to spin her, lift her onto the edge of the counter, and sink back in while I claimed her mouth. Her legs wrapped around my waist. I fucked her like that, deep, relentless, the counter creaking until her nails dug into my shoulders and she came with a broken sob, cunt pulsing hard around me.

I followed a few strokes later, burying myself to the hilt and spilling inside her with a low, guttural sound against her throat.

We stayed locked together, breathing hard, her forehead against mine. Milk still glistened on her tits. My pants were definitely wrinkled beyond saving.

I brushed a damp strand of hair from her face and managed a half-smile.

“Guess I’m calling in late.”

She grinned. “Time for me to take care of me,”