Falling for My Dirty Uncle

sn’t care about anyone or anything, and you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

I take her words silently, trying to reconcile the image of Magnus I hold in my mind. Are they right? Is Magnus playing me, and the whole city? From what I’ve ever heard about him, that’d make sense … But after having dinner with him, after sharing a night with him, I find it hard to believe we’re talking about the same man.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell them both coldly, the words coming out of my mouth harsher than I expected. “But I won’t lie about him without a valid reason.”

“No one in here is asking you to lie, Penny,” Laurel says, and something in the way she pronounces her words sets me off.

“It sure seems like it. Because I’m doing my job and duty as a journalist, and all the two of you seem to care about is how much dirt I can sling at Magnus!” By the time I finish speaking, I realize that I’m leaning so much into my laptop that my nose is almost touching the webcam. My hands are balled into fists, and I’m breathing hard already.

“Watch your tone, young lady,” Laurel whispers, her eyes cold and shark-like. “We’ve given you a chance to play in the big leagues. You’d do well to pay attention and do your job like you were instructed or --”

“I was instructed to be a reporter, not your errand girl,” I say into the phone. “Sorry if that goes against your plans.”

“It’s not just me you’re crossing, little girl,” Laurel hisses and it strikes me as odd that when I hear the words ‘little girl’ from her it makes me shiver as opposed to when I hear it from Magnus.

“There are some powerful people who are funding my campaign for Governor that want Magnus out. They won’t be happy till he’s out. And they won’t be happy when some little girl from the Upper East Side decides to say no to them,” she finished.

“Or what? There’s only one way to do my job, and that way is the right way.” I hiss through my gritted teeth and, without waiting for a reply from either Laurel or my mother, I slam down my laptop’s lid.

I take a few deep breaths, staring down at my laptop as if it could explode at any minute, and then I let the realization of what I just did start to sink in. I just hung up on my mother and on the mayor. Jesus, what has gotten into me? I’m not the kind of girl that gets all worked up for nothing. But I guess this whole situation doesn’t fit the nothing category, huh?

I know what you’re thinking. I’ve just went on and on about my job and duty as a journalist, and I did all that after fucking the man I’m supposed to be investigating. If you think that makes me a hypocrite, well… There’s nothing I can do about that, is there? But I hope that, at the very least, you make an effort to understand.

It’s one thing to read about Magnus Davion, but it’s a whole new ball game when you experience him. More than a man, he’s a force of nature.

I knew that the moment I first laid eyes on him, back when I was only a wide-eyed 18-year-old. I was just a young girl back then, but I already felt that deep animal attraction, that magnetism that just draws you further and further in until you no longer know the way back.

Just a stupid fantasy, I lied to myself when I accepted this assignment, trying to box the lust I felt for him as a teenage crush on an older man. But when I saw him at the gala, I have to admit: I felt that fire in my belly again, that burning need to have his body pressed against mine taking me over... and so I just said yes when he asked me out.

We were supposed to have dinner and ‘reconnect’, whatever that means, but five minutes into the dinner and I knew how the night would end. And I was right. Yeah, yeah, I know… I kinda provoked it, but so what? It’s not like it’s going to happen again.

Did I enjoy it? Yup. Was it the best sex of my life? You can bet it was. But all that doesn’t mean I’ll allow myself to be dragged into a forbidden relationship. He’s my stepfather, after all. I haven’t forgotten about that.

The way I see it, that night with Magnus was just a one time thing. And now that I’ve scratched that itch, I can focus on the task at hand and—wait, did you hear that? Someone’s knocking at the door.

I place my laptop on the coffee table in front of me and get up from the couch; I make my way toward the door, stretching my arms as I go. Who the hell can it be this late? I don’t think Laurel’s pissed enough to drive all the way to my apartment. At least I hope not. My mother might be, though. That woman loves to fight as much as she loves her Louis Vuitton bags.

I open the door, sighing and waiting to see my mother standing in the doorway. But she isn’t there; it’s someone else entirely.

“Busy?” Magnus asks me, taking one step toward me and placing one arm around my waist. He pulls me into him and, without waiting for a reply, leans in and crushes his lips on mine.

Remember when I told you that what happened between Magnus and I was just a one-time thing?

I think I might have lied.

Penny

“Hello, daddy,” I say, and I can feel my smile spreading across my face. Even if I didn't want it to be there, it is.

Just like the wetness in my panties when I see his smile.

I follow his eyes as they travel over me. Magnus likes what he sees. I’m his stepdaughter. Or I was. And when he looks at me, well, he’s not thinking of me as his little baby girl the way the rest of the world thinks he should. But me? I’m very happy to be the impetus for that fine slab of cock stabbing at his trousers in way that looks almost painful. Really, I’m already licking my lips when I think about freeing the beast.

“Penny,” Magnus growls low in his throat. His lips close over mine before I have time to think or do anything but kiss him back. I could've resisted a moment later, had I wanted to. But the instant my senses understood his touch I'm overcome by my own lust. Our lips press together fervently. This is not a gentle kiss. It is not a request for sex, not a request for love. It's a demand for me to be all his.

I have no issue with that. Whatever I have to give, I want him to take. Magnus kisses with such power that I know my lips will be bruised, stinging long after his lips find purchase elsewhere on my body. I taste his breath, expensive wine and the rich flavor of a sensual man. There’s no boyish booze, no tawdry cheap tastes to be had. His mouth is smooth as the silk that peaks from his suit pocket squares. Magnus’s scent fills my nose, the masculine scent of power and something primal, like a fire at night and the woods at dusk. His lips dance over mine; his tongue caressing me with a delicate yet possessive nature that sends shivers through my body. His hands close over and pull me up to him; Magnus is much taller than me and lifts me off the ground so that he can kiss me deeper.

Finally, leaving me gasping but not releasing me so that my feet are flat on the ground — I’m like a ballerina locked in a form — Magnus breaks the kiss. “I need my cock buried in your sweet pussy, now,” he says in a voice like a wave crashing over my body.