Nubes Sin Intención, Viento de Pasión

Amelia's POV:

My mom smiled as she collected the lawnmower from my step-uncle, who had just moved into the other room directly opposite my bedroom for the summer vacation with his wife. “Will you and your wife join us for dinner tonight?” she asked him, her voice bright and friendly.

  The moment the words left her mouth, my pulse slammed against my ribs. Hearing my mom invite, my stepuncle set my heart, beating wildly in my chest. 

  I couldn't bear to look at my step-uncle right in the eye for fear of what he might notice. Not like I don't want him to see it, I just don't have the courage to show him yet.

  I don't have the courage for him to see the lustful, hungry, and raw expression of how much I have been wanting him.

  Mr Chase. Uncle Chase, as I usually call him.

  My father's adopted brother.

  A married man.

  Twenty years older than me.

  Completely off limits.

  And the only man who’s ever made my body feel like it was waking up from a lifetime of sleep.

  His gaze flicked briefly in my direction before he answered, deep and warm. “Yeah. Ellie and I would love to.”

  God.

  His voice slid over my skin like heat, and my thighs pressed together on instinct. My pussy throbbed just from the sound of it. If his voice alone could do that to me, I couldn’t imagine what his mouth or his hands would feel like on my body.

  God. It feels so wrong to feel this way towards Mr chase, a married man. He's related to my father even though adopted, and they both grew up together. nevertheles, he is family. It feels terribly forbidden, and an absolute taboo to lustfuly desire a married man.

  I looked anywhere but at him, terrified my face would give away the things I imagined in the dark. The things I’d wanted from him since sixteen and recently turned nineteen last month—raw, hunger, and shamefully forbidden things.

  “See you both at eight,” my mom said.

  I walked straight to my room, heart racing and nerves burning. Two hours. Two hours until I had to sit across from the one man I shouldn’t want, yet couldn’t stop craving for him.

  I'm feeling nervous, excited, and a mixture of every other emotion I can't describe. The moment i had set my eyes on him again three years ago when he came into the country, I felt something shift in the air. He had just returned from military service, and he looked like he’d stepped out of a fantasy written just for me: rugged, broad-shouldered, carved by discipline, and hard work. His presence alone felt dangerous. His smile? Lethal.

  He had those dark, penetrating eyes that made you feel seen and undressed. That strong, masculine jaw. Those big hands. That deep, velvety voice made my knees wobble.

  And the worst part?

  He was kind. Gentle. Soft-spoken when he needed to be.

  A good man.

  A married man.

  A man who didn’t even know how badly I wanted him.

  I knew he stirred something inside of me, even if I didn’t quite know what that something was then. But I feel it every time I set my eyes on him. Whenever he gives me that sexy, dreamy smile and whenever he calls my name.

  This morning, I made the mistake of staring at him through my bedroom window biting my lip with bated breath as he mowed the lawn of our house. Sweat clung to his skin, and when he peeled off his T-shirt, my breath caught.

  His chest was all tan skin and tight muscle. Scarred in places, hardened by life. And the bulge in his jeans—thick, heavy and relaxed but unmistakable, had heat pooling low in my belly. The bulge in his jeans is full enough to make my mouth water. Full enough to make my pussy throbbed shamelessly with heat. 

  I’d tried flirting with him last time I came home from college, but he only smiled that polite, indulgent uncle smile like I was just a shy freshman sixteen-year-old girl who didn’t know what she was doing.

  But I did.

  Oh, I did.

  He is the object of my dirty fantasies, the sole reason of my wayward emotions, but he’s happily married, and just here for the summer vacation, after which he and his wife would be long gone. 

  He is way off limits. He's dangerous as they come. He's forbidden like the tree in the garden of eden. He is someone I should not even bother fantasizing about. 

  But I couldn't help what I felt.

  ♠︎♠︎♠︎

  After dinner, I lay in my bed, replaying every second of the evening. I could still imagine his strong arms around me when he hugged me and gave me a light peck on my cheek as they walked in for dinner. The way he complimented me in a polite manner in front of my parents and his wife.

  That hug. That innocent kiss on my cheek.

  The way his body felt against mine—solid, warm, and masculine. And then the moment that nearly made my legs give out.

  “You’ve really grown, Amelia,” he had said, voice low but polite. “You’re a proper woman now.”

  My mother and his wife smiled, oblivious.

  To them it was just a formal statement, but it made my knees weak and my nipples harden. I couldn't not stop imagining if it was me being all horny and not in my right sense.

  But he looked at me.

  Uncle Chase really looked. His eyes dipped, just for a heartbeat to the swell of my breasts.

  A flicker.

  A swallow.

  A tiny shift of his posture, like he suddenly needed more space in his jeans. Maybe it was my imagination.

  Maybe not.

  But I could still feel his scent on my skin.

  I close my eyes and let the memory wash over me. I suck my bottom lips as my hand drifted down my young body as i pretend they are his strong hands. My breath caught as it fumble at the elastic of my panties.

  I pushed my fingers beneath them, gasping slightly as I pushed them slowly over my mound before they slipped down into the slippery wet folds of my tight pussy.

  I slipped two fingers deeper into my wet sex as I imagined him kissing down my neck, tearing my shirt off, and putting his hot mouth all over my small breasts.

  I pinched my own nipple with my other hand, imagining it was his lips nipping at me.

  He’d grunt as he stroke my little wet pussy, as he'd pressed himself to me, and I'd moan loudly, crying out his name into the steamy night air.

  I gasped softly the moment my two fingers thrust deeper into my tight folds. In my fantasy, his hands tightened on my waist, pulling me flush against him. His mouth crashed onto mine, hungry, claiming like he’d been holding back for far too long.

  I moan and shudder as I imagined him pinning me against the wall, his breath hot on my neck.

  I imagined him growling my name, his rough hands sliding beneath my clothes, his body pressing me down, his mouth closing around my nipples—kissing, sucking and biting gently until I cried out.

  My hips arched up involuntarily as I pumped faster and desperately. My other hand rose to my breast, twisting my nipple until pleasure tightened at the base of my spine.

  I imagined him whispering in that deep voice, “You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart.”

  I was getting close, so close it almost hurt. Until a sudden sound sliced through the fog of pleasure, cold and sharp enough to snap my eyes open.