All Chapters of ALL YOURS: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Ava's POVI’ve always been the good girl at these family reunions—the one who helps with dishes, smiles politely, never causes trouble. The one everyone calls “sweet Ava” or “little Ava” even though I turned 21 in March. But this year something shifted the second I stepped out of the car. The air smelled like pine needles baked in sun and that faint, sticky tang of sunscreen everyone slathered on too thick. Barbecue smoke curled up from the grill on the deck, mixing with lake water and bug spray. Familiar. Comforting. But the way they looked at me wasn’t familiar anymore.Dad hugged me first—tight, normal, smelling like coffee and motor oil from the drive. Mom kissed my cheek and immediately handed me a grocery bag to carry inside. But then the others started drifting over.Ryan—28, athletic, always the smooth-talker with that easy grin—came up behind me while I was unloading the cooler. His chest brushed my back as he reached past to grab a six-pack. “Hey, cuz,” he said low, breath

AVA'S POVTRIGGER WARNING; TABOO, SEX WITH COUSIN I spent all day pretending nothing happened. Smiling at the aunties while I carried plates of potato salad and coleslaw to the picnic tables. Helping Dad flip burgers on the grill, the smoke stinging my eyes while I laughed at his dumb jokes about “well-done or still mooing.” Jumping into the lake with the younger cousins, shrieking when the cold water hit my stomach, pretending I didn’t feel the way my bikini bottoms rode up between my ass cheeks every time I climbed the ladder. But every time I caught Ryan’s eye across the lawn—him shirtless, beer in hand, talking to Uncle Mark—he’d give me that slow, knowing grin and my thighs would clench so hard I almost whimpered. The memory of his tongue last night was burned into me: flat laps over my clit, then pointed flicks, then fingers curling inside while the boat rocked and the water slapped the hull. I could still taste myself on my own lips when I licked them nervously. And th

Ava's POVI should’ve run. Should’ve told someone—Mom, Dad, anyone. Should’ve locked myself in the cabin and pretended the last two nights never happened. Instead I went to the boathouse at dusk like a good girl.The sky was turning that bruised purple-orange color, sun bleeding into the lake in long streaks of fire. Cicadas screamed in the trees. The air smelled thick—pine, algae, the faint char of last night’s bonfire still clinging to everything. My flip-flops slapped against the wooden path down to the water. Each step made my thighs rub together—still slick from Tyler’s cum this morning, even after I’d showered twice. I could feel it every time I walked: warm, sticky reminder leaking out of me, soaking the thin cotton of my panties.The boathouse door was cracked. Low light spilled out—yellow from an old hanging bulb. I pushed it open.Uncle Mark was waiting.He stood in the middle of the small space—door locked behind me the second I stepped inside. Shirt sleeves rolle

Ava's POVUncle Jake has been “family” my whole life—Dad’s best friend, the one who taught me to ride a bike when I was six, the one whose lap I sat on at barbecues while he told terrible dad jokes and pretended not to notice when I stole sips of his beer. He carried me on his shoulders during fireworks when I got scared of the noise. He used to call me “princess” and ruffle my hair. Now he looks at me like meat. And I’m dripping just thinking about it.All day I carried the secret of Uncle Mark’s cum still leaking out of my ass—slow, warm trickles every time I bent over to pick up a towel or sat down too fast on the picnic bench. I kept my thighs pressed together during lunch, smiled when Mom asked why I was walking funny, blamed it on a cramp from swimming too long. But every time Uncle Jake passed me—carrying a cooler, reaching over me for the ketchup, brushing my arm—he let his fingers linger. Not obvious. Just enough. A thumb grazing the underside of my wrist. A palm flat a

Ava's POV The bonfire was roaring outside—laughter rolling across the lawn, someone strumming a guitar off-key, the sweet char of toasted marshmallows drifting through the open windows. Inside the main cabin the air felt heavier, thicker, lit only by a single lamp on the side table and the faint orange glow leaking in from the fire pit. Doors locked. Curtains drawn. The four of them waited. Ryan leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, jeans already unbuttoned. Tyler sat on the arm of the couch, knees spread, stroking himself slowly through his sweats. Uncle Mark stood near the fireplace, belt unbuckled but still threaded through his loops, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Uncle Jake sat in the big armchair—legs wide, cock out, thick and heavy in his fist. I walked in barefoot, still damp from the shower, towel wrapped loose around my chest. Water dripped from the ends of my hair onto the floorboards. I