Chapter 4: Chapter 4
The silence after the phone went dark was thicker than the humidity. Later, in the guest bathroom, Brianna watched Alyssa scrub her face with a washcloth, her movements frantic. "You liked it," Brianna stated, leaning against the doorframe. "Don't try to wash that away."
Alyssa froze, the cloth dripping in the sink. "I'm getting married in four days."
"And you'll be a terrible lay for Cody if you don't know what you're doing," Brianna said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What happened in there was just... theory. Scott's a good teacher, but you need the practical. Alone. Without me in the room."
"I can't," Alyssa breathed, but her eyes in the mirror were wide, not with refusal, but with terrified want.
Brianna moved closer, her hands settling on Alyssa's shoulders. "You have that lingerie, right? The white lace thing you bought for the wedding night?" Alyssa gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. "Put it on. Tonight. Go to his room. Just knock. He's already seen you at your most vulnerable. He filmed it. This is just... finishing what you started."
"He'll say no."
"Did he say no before?" Brianna’s smile was knowing. "He has that video, Alyssa. That's leverage, but it's also permission. He wants you. He just needs you to come to him, all wrapped up in that virgin-white lace, so he doesn't have to feel like the monster who took you. You’re giving him a gift."
Alyssa turned, her back against the cold sink. "And... what do I do?"
"You let him do whatever he wants," Brianna said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And you don't let him use a condom. You need to feel all of it, every fucking inch, raw. That's the only way it counts."
The house was asleep, a tomb of respectable silence, when Alyssa slipped from her room. The hallway floorboards were cool under her bare feet. The white lace teddy Brianna had helped her into felt like a whisper against her skin, the material sheer enough to show the dark shadow of her nipples, the narrow strip of fabric between her legs doing little to conceal the neat triangle of hair beneath. Her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs.
She stood before the door to the guest room, her hand raised to knock, hovering in the dark. She could hear the low murmur of the television inside, a blue-grey light seeping from under the door. She thought of the phone, the red recording light, the taste of him, Brianna’s mouth on hers sharing it. She knocked, twice, soft but decisive.
The TV sound cut off. Footsteps, heavy and approaching. The door opened.
Scott stood there, dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else, the defined lines of his torso a topography of shadows in the dim light. His eyes, adjusting, traveled down her body in one slow, devastating pass. He didn't look surprised. He looked like a man who had been waiting.
“Alyssa.” Her name was a low rumble.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered, the lie pathetic.
He said nothing, just stepped back, opening the door wider. An invitation. She crossed the threshold, and he closed the door behind her with a quiet, final click. The room smelled of him, of clean sweat and soap and something darker, masculine. The only light came from a digital clock on the nightstand, casting the room in a sickly green hue.
“Brianna put you up to this.” It wasn’t a question.
“She helped,” Alyssa admitted, her arms crossing instinctively over her chest before she forced them down to her sides. “But I’m here.”
Scott’s gaze was a physical weight. “That thing you’re wearing… is that for Cody?”
She shook her head, a minute movement. “It was. Not anymore.”
He closed the distance between them in two strides. His hands, calloused and warm, settled on her hips, his thumbs brushing the delicate lace at her hip bones. “You know what happens if you stay in this room,” he said, his voice gravel. “There’s no going back to being my sweet niece after this.”
“I know.” Her own voice surprised her, steady.
One of his hands slid up her rib cage, his palm scalding through the lace, until his thumb brushed the underside of her breast. She gasped. “You’ve never been touched here,” he stated, his thumb circling, finding her nipple and pinching it gently through the fabric. It peaked instantly, a sharp point of sensation. “Not really.”
“No,” she breathed, her head falling back.
“And here?” His other hand slipped down, over the curve of her ass, his fingers tracing the line where lace met skin, dipping between her thighs from behind. He cupped her, his whole hand covering her sex, and she jolted, a soft cry escaping her. She was already wet, the moisture soaking through the thin lace. “Christ, you’re drenched,” he muttered, more to himself. He applied pressure, a slow, rhythmic grinding of his palm against her, and her knees buckled. He held her up, his arm like an iron band around her waist.
“Please,” she whimpered, the word meaningless, a sound of pure need.
“Please what?” He walked her backward until her legs hit the edge of the bed. “Use your words, Alyssa. You came to my room. What do you want?”
Scott, we use her lingerie on pulls out.His phone starts recording her say it again.He says alyssa says, please fuck me.
She looked up at him, the green light etching the hard planes of his face. “I want you to fuck me.” The obscenity, coming from her mouth, hung in the air like smoke.
Scott’s eyes devoured her. “Fucking hell,” he breathed, a raw appreciation that stripped her bare more than the removal of the lace ever could. He reached out, tracing the curve of her breast with a single knuckle, then palming its weight, his thumb brushing her nipple. “Perfect.”
He pushed her down onto the bed, her back meeting the cool cotton duvet. He stood over her, pulling his sweatpants down, his cock springing free, already fully hard and thicker than she remembered from her frantic, close-up view. It curved upward, the head dark and gleaming. He knelt on the bed between her spread legs, his hands pushing her thighs wider. “Look at you,” he growled, his fingers parting her folds, exposing the slick, pink flesh. “So fucking ready for it.”
He leaned down, not to kiss her mouth, but to put his mouth on her. His tongue, broad and rough, licked a firm stripe through her slit. Alyssa cried out, her hips arching off the bed. “Oh, God!”
“Tastes like you’ve been thinking about this all night,” he muttered against her, his tongue circling her clit before sucking it into his mouth. The sensation was electric, a direct, shocking current of pleasure that made her thighs tremble. He fucked her with his tongue, shallow, probing thrusts that mimicked what was to come, his thumb rubbing insistently over her clit. She was climbing fast, a coil tightening low in her belly, her hands fisting in the sheets.
“I’m… I’m going to…”
“Come,” he ordered, his voice vibrating against her. “Come on my tongue first. Then you get the real thing.”
The command, the filthy permission, tipped her over. A wave of pleasure, sharper and deeper than anything she’d ever felt alone in the dark, crashed through her. She choked back a scream, her body bowing, pulses of ecstasy wracking her as he kept his mouth on her, drinking every shudder.
As the last tremor subsided, he moved up her body, his weight settling over her. The head of his cock, blunt and hot, nudged at her entrance. She was still fluttering from her orgasm, impossibly wet and open. He looked into her eyes, his own almost black in the gloom. “Last chance to run, Melissa.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. “Do it.”
He pushed forward.
There was a moment of breathtaking tightness, a stretching, burning pressure that made her gasp. He was huge, wider than her fingers, impossibly solid. He paused, embedded just an inch inside her, his jaw clenched. “Fuck,” he gritted out. “You’re so goddamn tight.”
He pulled back slightly, then surged forward again, a deeper, more insistent thrust. The burning intensified, a sharp, tearing sensation that made her eyes water. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. He stilled, fully sheathed inside her now, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. “Breathe,” he commanded, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in a shaky sob.
“It hurts,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s supposed to. Only hurts the first time.” He lowered his head, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was nothing like Brianna’s. It was possessive, deep, a claiming that matched what was happening below. As his tongue swept into her mouth, he began to move.
Slow, at first. Withdrawing almost completely, then sliding back in, a gradual, relentless possession. The burning began to recede, mingled with a strange, full feeling, a sensitivity that grew with each stroke. He picked up the pace, his hips settling into a rhythm, each thrust driving the breath from her lungs. The sound of their bodies meeting, skin slapping against skin, filled the quiet room, a obscene, rhythmic beat.
“That’s it,” he grunted, his forehead dropping to hers. “Take it. Take all of me.”
He shifted his angle, and on the next deep drive, he brushed something deep inside her that made her see stars. A shocked, guttural moan tore from her throat. “There?” he demanded, hitting the same spot again, and again. “That’s the spot, baby. That’s what makes you forget your own name.”
The pain was a memory, drowned under a rising tide of raw, carnal sensation. Each thrust dragged his thick length over that exquisite, hidden place, building a new kind of tension, deeper, more urgent than before. She was mewling, little broken sounds with every drive of his hips. Her nails dug into the hard muscles of his back.
“You feel that?” he rasped, his pace becoming punishing, the bedframe knocking softly against the wall. “That’s me filling you up. Raw. No rubber. You feel every fucking inch.”
She did. She felt the throbbing heat of him, the slick friction, the perfect, brutal stretch. Her second orgasm built like a tsunami, unstoppable, wrenching a scream from her that he muffled with his mouth. Her inner walls clamped down on him in violent, rhythmic pulses, and with a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and roared his release.
She felt the hot, liquid pulse of him deep inside her, jet after jet, a flooding warmth that marked her, claimed her in the most primal way. He collapsed on top of her, his weight crushing and perfect, both of them slick with sweat, breathing in ragged unison.
After a long moment, he rolled off, lying beside her on the ruined sheets. The room was silent except for their slowing breaths. He reached over to the nightstand, fumbling for his phone.
Alyssa turned her head, watching as he unlocked it, his fingers moving to the video gallery. The screen’s glow illuminated his profile. He found the video from earlier—the one of her on her knees, her face streaked with his come.
You grabbed his phone and hit record again.Offering his cock to alyssa, she took it into her mouth creedily sucking at it while looking at the camera.Stroking is cock while sucking his balls to get him hard again. And then looking straight into the camera, she said, please fuck me again.Daddy.
The room held its breath, the taste of him still stark on her tongue. Then Alyssa turned her glistening face toward the phone still clutched in Scott’s hand, her voice a raw, broken whisper. "Please fuck me again, Daddy."
A dark, approving sound rumbled in Scott’s chest. He swung his legs off the bed, retrieved a small tripod from his open duffel bag, and set the phone upon it, its lens now a cold, unblinking eye pointed at the mattress.
The phone’s dark screen reflected their stunned faces back at them. Scott finally lowered it, placing it carefully on the nightstand like a weapon returned to its holster. The silence was a physical weight. Brianna broke it, her voice a husky whisper. “So what now, soldier?”
Scott’s eyes never left Alyssa. “Now,” he said, his voice rough, “she gets on top.” Alyssa trembled, but a frantic energy had replaced her shame. She moved as if in a trance, straddling his hips, her toned thighs framing his body. He gripped his cock, still wet from her mouth, and guided the swollen head to her entrance. “Do it,” he commanded.
She sank down slowly, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as he stretched her virgin tightness, inch by brutal inch, until she was fully impaled. “Oh, God,” she choked, her inner muscles fluttering around his girth. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. “Ride me, Alyssa.” She began to move, a clumsy, rocking rhythm that made her breasts sway. He shoved two fingers past her parted lips. “Suck them,” he ordered. “And say it.”
She sucked his fingers obediently, her tongue swirling around the digits. “You’ll always be my first cock,” she moaned around them, the words wet and distorted. “Cody will never… never compare to you.” Scott pumped his hips upward, driving himself deeper into her, making her gasp. “Uncle Scott,” she whimpered, her riding becoming more desperate, “I mean Daddy. Please. Fuck me harder.”
The silence after the phone’s screen went dark was thicker than the steam. Scott’s breath still sawed in his chest as he looked from the device to Alyssa’s spent, semen-streaked face. “Get on the bed,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “On your hands and knees.” Alyssa blinked, slow, like someone waking, but Brianna was already moving, guiding her by the elbow toward the center of the mattress. “You heard him, Aly. Assume the position.” Her obedience was mechanical; she crawled forward, the smooth muscles of her back flexing, her ass rising in the air as she settled onto all fours. Scott stood, his cock still wet and half-hard, and moved behind her. He placed a broad, hot hand on the small of her back, pressing down until her spine curved and her perfect ass was presented to him, an offering. “You wanted to learn,” he said, his fingers tracing the cleft of her cheeks through the thin cotton of her shorts. “This is the main lesson.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and panties and peeled them down in one rough motion, baring her to the warm, shameful light. She was completely exposed, pink and vulnerable, and he spit onto his fingers, rubbing the moisture against her tight, untouched hole. “This,” he grunted, positioning the thick head of his cock at her entrance, “is how a man takes what he wants.” He pushed forward, not waiting, and her sharp cry was muffled by the duvet as he breached her, a brutal, burning inch at a time.
The silence after the phone went dark was thicker than the steam. Scott finally moved, placing the device carefully on the nightstand, the act deliberate, like setting a weapon on a shelf. “Now you,” he said to Alyssa, his voice stripped raw. “Everything comes off. I want to see what you’ve been hiding.” Her hands shook as she gripped the hem of her oversized t-shirt, pulling it slowly over her head. The sight of her bare breasts, full and heavy with dark, taut nipples, made his spent cock twitch against his thigh. “Jesus,” he breathed, the word a reverent curse. Brianna watched, a smirk playing on her lips as she shimmied out of her own damp sundress, standing naked and unashamed. “Your turn, Aly,” Brianna said, nodding at Alyssa’s shorts. Alyssa hooked her thumbs into the waistband, pushing them and her panties down in one jerky motion, stepping free, her body a pale, toned revelation in the low light. Scott’s gaze burned over every curve—the soccer-player’s legs, the flat stomach, the perfect, round ass. “On the bed,” he commanded, his own nakedness a statement of power. She crawled onto the mattress, the cream-colored duvet contrasting with her skin. Brianna followed, lying beside her, running a possessive hand over Alyssa’s stomach. “Cody’s never seen this, has he?” Scott asked, kneeling between her legs, his broad frame casting a shadow over her. Alyssa shook her head, mute. “He’s never touched this perfect cunt?” She whimpered as his calloused fingers brushed through her neat thatch of hair, finding her slit already slick. “No,” she whispered. “Good,” he said, and with no further ceremony, he drove two thick fingers deep inside her. She cried out, back arching, her tight virgin channel clamping around the invasion. “So fucking tight,” he growled, working his fingers in a cruel, scissoring motion. “Brianna, get her ready for me.” Brianna immediately moved, kissing Alyssa deeply as her hand replaced Scott’s, finger-fucking her with a ruthless rhythm. “Relax, baby,” Brianna murmured against her mouth. “You wanted this. You need to be wet for his big cock.” Scott watched, his own arousal returning with a vengeance, as Brianna prepared her friend. He reached for the phone again, lifting it, the red light a cyclops eye in the dim room. “Cody’s going to love this video,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “A wedding present from his best man.” Alyssa’s eyes flew open, wide with terror. Outside the bedroom door, down the hall, the front door of the house clicked open. “Hello? Aly? You home?” Cody’s voice, bright and unsuspecting, echoed up the stairs.
The phone’s screen went dark, but its presence was a third person in the room, heavy and accusatory. Scott looked from the device to Alyssa’s ruined, compliant face, the last of his hesitation burning away in a cold, possessive fire. “On your hands and knees,” he said, his voice stripped of all warmth. “Now.” Alyssa flinched but obeyed, moving shakily to the center of the bed, her head hanging low. Brianna watched, licking her lips, as Scott positioned himself behind the trembling girl. He spat into his palm, the sound crude and wet, and slicked his still-hard cock with a brutal efficiency. He guided the thick, purple head to the tight, virgin pucker between Alyssa’s ass cheeks, a place still damp from her own saliva. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he growled, applying relentless, inward pressure. Her body resisted, a ring of clenched muscle refusing him. “Relax,” Brianna whispered, her hand stroking Alyssa’s back, but Scott ignored her. He shoved forward, a brutal, splitting thrust that buried the fat head of his cock inside her ass. Alyssa screamed, a raw, torn sound muffled by the duvet as her body was forcibly opened. Scott groaned, a deep, guttural sound of conquest, as he sank the rest of his length into the impossibly tight, searing heat. He was fully seated, his balls pressed against her, his grip on her hips bruising. “Fuck,” he breathed, the single word shuddering through him.
The phone’s screen went dark, and Scott lowered it, his breathing still ragged. He looked at Brianna, who was watching him with a predator’s patience. “Go find Cody,” he said, his voice stripped of all warmth. “Stop him from sucking his own cock. Bring him to the base when you fuck him, if you have to, while I finish up here with Alyssa.”
Brianna’s eyebrows arched, a slow smile spreading across her face. “You want me to prep her fiancé for her?”
“I want him to know his place,” Scott corrected, his gaze shifting to Alyssa’s stunned, tear-streaked face. He reached out, his thumb rough as it wiped a last trace of spend from her chin. “You’re not done.” Brianna nodded, sliding off the bed with a fluid motion, her dress whispering against her thighs. She paused at the door, casting a look back at the scene—Alyssa kneeling, Scott looming over her—before disappearing into the hallway’s gloom.
Scott turned his full attention to Alyssa. “Stand up.” She obeyed, her legs unsteady. “All those baggy clothes,” he muttered, his hands gripping the hem of her oversized t-shirt. “Let’s see what you’ve been hiding.” In one swift motion, he pulled it up and over her head, tossing it aside. She stood trembling in just her cotton shorts, her large, full breasts exposed, the nipples tight and pebbled in the cool air. He stared, a low whistle escaping his lips. “Fuck, Alyssa.” His calloused palms closed over them, weighing their soft, heavy fullness, his thumbs brushing the stiff peaks. “All this time.”