A Family Affair Anthology : An Extreme Taboo Anthology Page 3

  He reaches down and scoops the box off the floor, placing the pictures back inside, before he leans over and grabs the lid. He stops for a moment, hovering across me and looks into my eyes.

  “To find out if you can keep a bigger secret too.”

  I don’t know if it’s the anger, the betrayal, or the heat radiating from his body, but I shove him away for a moment. Uncle Huck looks down at the box in his hand, slides the lid in place, then gets to his feet. He walks back to the closet and sets his secret back in its safe place.

  “Don’t tell Abigail I showed you those, okay? We had a fucked up childhood and it only happened once.”

  I’m confused now.

  What killing his wife had to do with taking naked photos of his sister isn’t making sense to me.

  Not until he comes back to the bed and pulls me to my feet. Not until he uses his finger to raise my face to look at him.

  Not until I see it in his eyes.

  The want.

  The need.

  The hunger.

  Just like Daddy.

  Chapter Seven

  “Wait,” I say as I put my hands on his stomach and give him a gentle shove back. “This … this brings back bad memories for me, Huck.”

  “Why?” he asks softly, running a hand down the side of my face. “I’ve never laid a hand on you before, Maddi.”

  “It wasn’t you,” I say, looking up at him, dangerously close to tears.

  “Did someone hurt you?” he asks, his voice rising slightly.

  I tear my eyes away from his for a moment, before I nod, take a deep breath and look back up at him.

  “But it’s okay, because I hurt him too. I guess we both have secrets, Huck.”

  He leans down and presses his lips gently against mine, and I have to fight the urge to push him away. But I tell myself that he’s Momma’s brother and not Daddy’s. I tell myself that he didn’t hurt Momma so he won’t hurt me either.

  And my body wants this as much as his does because I can already feel his hard dick pressed against me, and I’ll do my best to make him feel better about everything.

  I reach for his pants, fumbling like an inexperienced young girl, but that’s far from the truth. I’ve just never had the opportunity to do this because I wanted to.

  Once I manage to undo the knot holding his pants up, I look up at him, my eyes begging him for another kiss. He doesn’t disappoint me, either. Uncle Huck holds me close as his kiss deepens into something so much more than I’ve ever felt and I moan gently into his mouth as I tug at the waistband of his pants, giving them a gentle shove down.

  Because he’s so goddamn tall, I don’t have to get on my knees to blow him. Instead, I just lean my head down slightly and take the tip of his dick into my mouth, hand wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft and begin to bob my head up and down. He lets out his breath in a whoosh as he steadies himself on his feet while I continue to move my mouth over his length. I like the way he tastes; salty but sweeter than anything I’ve ever had before.

  He reaches down and grabs a fistful of my hair, holds me in place and begins to move his hips. It takes me a moment to get used to the feeling and while he’s not being rough, I gag a couple of times. I’m not used to having a cock so far into my mouth, but Uncle Huck takes his time. He wants us both to enjoy it, not just him.

  Unlike Daddy.

  When he’s had his fill of me sucking his dick, he picks me up, kisses me softly, then lays me on his bed. I wait as he steps out of his pants and pulls his shirt over his head tossing it onto the bedroom floor. He reaches up and grabs the waist of my shorts and pulls them down along with my panties. When he gets on his knees and pulls me down toward him, I’m a little confused because I’m not sure what he’s going to do.

  Until he gently spreads my legs open and kisses the inside of my thighs. I lean my head back against the bed as he teases me with more gentle kisses, then I feel his hand gently rubbing my mound. He slips his thumb down, using it to gently push my lips apart, then I feel the tip of his tongue as he licks my clit gently. It’s a sensation I never felt before and I instantly reach down and grab his hair. He chuckles against my pussy before he begins to lap me like an alley cat.

  It’s amazing.

  All of the things I’m feeling right now are too exquisite for words and I’m trying my best not to rip his hair out of his head when he gets me to my climax—another thing that Daddy never did.

  My body shakes as my breathing becomes labored, and when I come, he chuckles again then gets to his feet.

  “Scoot up for me, Maddi,” he instructs, nodding toward the headboard.

  I move quickly, eagerly, and when he climbs onto the bed and hovers over me for a moment, I feel incredibly shy. I don’t know why—maybe it’s because I’m finally aware of the sheer size of Uncle Huck, maybe it’s because now I finally know how Momma felt once.

  He reaches down and presses the head of his dick against my opening then begins to push in gently. I grunt at the pressure and when he looks at me with slight worry in his eyes, I pull him down toward me, kissing him passionately.

  I don’t want him to stop.

  I want to know what this feels like when it’s a choice.

  I dig my nails into Uncle Huck’s back when he begins to gently roll his hips. For the rest of the night, I’m his and he’s mine, and no one can take us away from each other.

  Chapter Eight

  “Hi Momma,” I say glumly when she comes to pick me up at the end of summer vacation. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here with Uncle Huck forever, but I know she’ll never let me.

  “Hi Maddi!” she says cheerfully. “Did you have a good time here?”

  I clasp my hands in front of myself and nod. Almost every night since that first time, Uncle Huck and I spent as much time as we could together in his bed. Between chores, work around the farm, and watching old horror movies, I don’t think we were able to keep our hands off each other.

  We both woke up in a somber mood today, though ‘cause we knew Momma was coming to pick me up.

  “Good! Did she give you any trouble, Huck?” she asks her brother who’s standing on the porch, a hand on the railing.

  He shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. I steal a glance at him and he does the same with me, then sighs as he walks into the house.

  “Bye,” I say softly to the swinging porch door.

  I reach down and pick up my duffle bag, following Momma down the stairs, sad, angry, and feeling a little lost. It’s weird to me that we shared the same thing with someone we both love, but I’ll never tell her because I promised Uncle Huck that I would keep his secrets.

  As soon as we reach the car, I open the back door and toss my bag in the back. Momma’s leaning over the roof of the car smiling at me.

  It’s almost like she’s happy to have me come back home, but it’s a lie. I can see it in her eyes.

  I turn and glance at the farmhouse one more time, my shoulders dropping at no sign of Uncle Huck and I slam the door shut. I reach for the passenger side of the car and as soon as I wrap my hands around the handle, the loudest bang I’ve ever heard in my life splits the air.

  Momma—or what’s left of her, anyway—falls back onto the ground with a dull thud. My body shakes because I don’t know what the hell happened, but there’s blood on the roof of the car now.

  The sound of heavy footsteps crushing the grass greet my ears and I turn slightly to see Uncle Huck walking toward me with a rifle in his hand. He doesn’t say a word until he gets to me.

  “Get your bag, Maddi. I’ll get rid of Abigail’s body.”

  He … he shot Momma.

  He killed her so I could stay here with him.

  I let out a sob as I reach up and wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. He holds me tightly against him, kisses the top of my head, then rests his forehead against mine.

  I’m not crying ‘cause Momma’s dead. That bitch knew what Daddy did to me and didn’t stop him. Bu
t I made sure he had an accident—I cut the lines to his brakes one night when everyone was sleeping and he ended up driving off a bridge the next day to work. The ferry was coming through and the bridge went up, but he couldn’t stop his car and went plummeting into the bay.

  I’m not crying ‘cause I won’t know how to explain to people that Momma left me, because I’m sure Uncle Huck will help me come up with a story.

  I’m crying ‘cause I’m not the one that got to pull the trigger. I’m crying ‘cause the only man that honestly gives a shit about me has to bear the weight of another dead body on his conscience.

  The tears will go away soon, though, and everything will be okay.

  It’ll be me and Uncle Huck on his farm working hard during the day and being together at night.

  And if anyone comes to ask us where Momma and Aunt Brianna are, we’ll tell them that they left us.

  ‘Cause after all, isn’t that what all the bad people do?

  About Yolanda Olson

  Yolanda Olson is an award-winning and international bestselling author. Born and raised in Bridgeport, CT where she currently resides, she usually spends her time watching her favorite channel, Investigation Discovery. Occasionally, she takes a break to write books and test the limits of her mind. Also an avid horror movie fan, she likes to incorporate dark elements into the majority of her books.

  Also by Yolanda Olson

  Inferno

  https://mybook.to/Inferno_

  Death Blooms

  http://mybook.to/deathblooms

  Scavengers

  http://mybook.to/scavengers

  Find Yolanda Olson Online

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  II

  Indecent Craving

  Dani René

  Warning

  Please note this is an extremely taboo story. If any taboo is your hard limit, this story will hit all those boxes. It’s not dark, but rather a love story of two people who shouldn’t be together, but find love anyway.

  There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.

  Mark Twain

  Prologue

  Vincent

  Present Day

  I walk into the greenhouse. It’s a public space. I shouldn’t visit her here, but it’s safer than being alone, somewhere that my feelings will show. I’ve kept them hidden for so long, I haven’t thought of anything else but seeing her again.

  The botanical gardens are filled with so many beautiful spring blossoms, and rows of colorful buds, but she’s the only flower I see. Even with all the beauty—pinks, purples, and reds—it’s the golden tresses that lure me closer.

  I didn’t think I’d be this nervous seeing her, but now that I’m here, I feel like a teenage boy about to ask the most popular girl on a date. You wouldn’t think I’m a grown man, older, wiser, more mature. She’s always done this to me, left me speechless, and yearning for something I couldn’t ever have.

  It’s been a long time since I pushed her away. My life took me on a path I never wanted for her and having her far from me was the only option I had. I couldn’t allow her to grow up around the darkness that surrounded me. That’s what I tell myself, but it’s not true. The lies I forced myself to believe are nothing compared to the truth.

  She doesn’t know me, not anymore. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want me around if she knew who I was underneath the armor that hides my pain, my confusion, and the indecent craving that’s haunted me for years.

  The moment my gaze flits over to her, I know it deep within my soul—she’s mine. Long, shimmering golden waves hang to the middle of her back. She’s focused on the rose in front of her, so she doesn’t pay anyone any mind. Slowly, almost unsteadily I stalk closer.

  The moment I am in her bubble, it’s as if electricity crackles in the air. Her gaze turns toward me, landing on mine, focusing on the person that’s nearing her. The stranger. The late afternoon sun shines through the glass, and her green eyes appear luminous.

  I shouldn’t have come, but I needed to see her just this once. Even if it’s the last time I lay my eyes on her. She smiles, her full pinkish lips curl up at the corners, and the plumpness of the flesh makes every part of me harden.

  She turns around, her gaze landing on mine, and she offers a small, shy smile. “Can I help you?” she asks.

  It takes her a moment before she recognizes me. She sees me. Her mouth falls open in shock, or perhaps anger. It’s been years. Too many years. She won’t recognize the cut because I never wore it around her. The long hair, and the beard are new as well, but the love in my eyes for her hasn’t changed. It’s become more. With every ride I take, each time I lose myself in women who aren’t her, I fall deeper into the black hole of despair. I could never leave her. I could never cut her from my veins, because she is a part of me.

  “I…” Her words taper off as surprise paints her pretty face.

  “I was just intrigued by the rose you’re working on,” I smile down at her. I don’t acknowledge that it’s me, or that I know her. I’m merely another man passing through the greenhouse. She’s a head shorter than me, and I can’t help but note how familiar she looks. How she reminds me of my younger years. When I was falling in love and feeling things I should never have felt.

  It feels like a lifetime ago.

  I guess it is.

  As if realizing what I’m doing, she nods slowly and turns to the flowers. “The pigmentation is actually not natural. Since roses are normally red, white, or yellow, these are genetically modified.” With a glance at the flower, she doesn’t touch the petals, but merely runs her finger along the air, above them. As if just that singular movement will connect her with the rose.

  “I suppose a blue rose would be rather strange.”

  “Unique.” She turns her gaze on me once more before offering a smile. “Did you know a blue rose symbolizes secret love?” Her brows lift slightly, as if she’s waiting for me to say yes, but to be honest, I know nothing about flowers, or nature for that matter.

  “I didn’t.”

  “I suppose, love can be quite forbidden if it’s for the wrong person,” she tells me sadly, and her voice tugs at my chest. She looks so much like her mother it’s haunting.

  “You’re far too young to know about unattainable love,” I chuckle. The sound is low, gravelly, because I’m so damn affected by her, I can’t focus.

  “Age is merely a number, it doesn’t have anything to do with the amount of experience someone has in their life,” she counters, challenging me causing me to grin like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Touché,” I offer a slight bow. Intelligent, beautiful, and so magnetic, I feel a pull toward her. I shouldn’t do this. She should have a life without me. But after five years of watching her, seeing how she’s blossomed, I’m lost to wanting more from her than I should.

  “So, what are you here to see? A specific flower?”

  “You could say that,” I flirt shamelessly, because fuck it. She’s not telling me to leave, and she’s not walking away angrily, so I go in for the kill. Instead of confessing what I need to, or apologizing for what I did, I ignore the little voice inside my mind that tells me how wrong this is, and I wait for her to respond.

  “If there’s anything I can show you,” she responds, with a flirtatious smile. I take her in for a moment. The yellow tank top—with the logo of the botanical gardens printed on her chest—that hugs her tight body, and a pair of black pants that are molded to her curves. Her hips are wider than her waist, offering an hourglass of perfection.

  Tanned, smooth skin peeks at me from various places her clothes don’t cover, and her long lashes flutter over rosy apples in her cheeks. I wonder just how much darker I can turn her blush.

  “Perhaps I can buy you a coffee after this?”

  She glances around, as if something just occurred to her, but when she looks my way once more, she smiles. “Sure, I finish up i
n ten minutes. I just need to lock up and change out of my uniform.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll wait in the parking lot,” I tell her before turning to leave. With one last glance over my shoulder, I wonder to myself if I should just leave. Perhaps walking away now would be better for her, but my heart reminds me of the reason I’m here.

  I fell in love with her a long time ago, and over the past five years, with every boy she’s sent packing, I’ve been waiting, biding my time. At twenty, she’s a woman, one who can make her own decisions, and once I confess why I’m here, she can decide if she wants me in her life.

  Chapter 1

  Rylee

  Four years ago…

  Forbidden.

  I know it is. I know it’s wrong. But I can’t help myself. I watch him through the crack in the door. His body is taut, smooth planes of skin that dip and peak in various places. Perfect places.

  His hand moves so fast, it’s a blur. Grunts of pleasure echo toward my ears, and my fingers dip into the wetness that’s collected between my thighs. I watch in awe as his shoulder muscles bulge with the strain.

  “Fuck,” he grits out through clenched teeth. His body shaking as white ropes of his seed spill from his shaft landing on his stomach. For a man his age, his body is toned and chiseled. The tanned, smooth flesh offers a beautiful view of the dips and peaks.

  I step back quietly and head to my bedroom. I leave the door ajar, a small crack that allows the soft yellow light of the hallway to filter through. I step out of my panties and position myself on the bed where I tug my pillow between my thighs. I’m aching. The pain in my gut is fierce, holding me hostage.