Marriage with His Uncle!

Crazy

Luther's hand, which had been resting casually on the table, found its way to my lap. His fingers slid under my skirt, his touch light and teasing as he slowly gathered the fabric. He gave me a quick, mischievous smirk, his eyes burning with a silent dare. Before I could even react, he had pulled my panties to the side and slid two fingers inside of me. My body immediately tensed, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep a gasp from escaping. The man was completely insane, and I was about to find out if I was just as crazy as him.

"What are you doing?" I mouthed, my eyes wide with panic as I glared at him. My body was already betraying me, my breathing growing shallow as he tilted his fingers. I tried to clamp my legs shut, but it was too late. His fingers were already moving inside me.

The spoon and fork in my hands trembled as he gently, yet deliberately, swirled my insides. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, a desperate attempt to keep the moan that was building in my throat from escaping.

I gulped heavily when Nash turned to look at me for a split second, a quick glance to let me know he hadn't forgotten about me while he was deep in conversation with his mother.

Thank god he was busy. I thanked the heavens for keeping him distracted while his uncle was giving me the best fingering of my life right under their noses.

"Take them out," I whispered, discreetly tilting my head in his direction. But Luther only smirked, leaning closer to my ear. My eyes darted around the table. Everyone was either eating in silence or talking to the person next to them. No one was watching. But still, my heart was lodged in my throat. He was fingering me right under the table, and if anyone were to bend down, they would get an 8K, high-definition view of his hand between my legs.

"Don't you find it hot that Nash is right beside you, completely clueless that his fiancée is enjoying the hand service from his uncle?" Luther’s voice was a low, sultry whisper in my ear, a devilish temptation. "I find this very hot."

My body was on fire, but my mind was screaming. I wasn't crazy enough to pull a stunt like this in front of everyone. "I'm not enjoying it," I denied, my voice a shaky whisper, even as my body betrayed me, my hips subtly moving with his touch.

"Are you sure?" Luther’s smirk was infuriating, his eyes twinkling with that same mischievous glint they held when he was f*****g me under the stairs, taking all the risks for that exhilarating thrill. I watched in horror as he took his fingers out from between my legs and swung them in the air, a silent, damning display of my own arousal. I clamped his hand, forcing it back under the table, my cheeks burning with mortification. I did a quick scan of the table to make sure no one was watching before I hissed, "Are you crazy?"

He just smirked. "You're about to see how crazy I can be." And with that, he slipped his fingers back into me. I tried to protest, but his clever fingers won against my weak will. It was a battle I had no chance of winning. The thrill of what-if was too potent, too addictive.

I reluctantly let his fingers stay, and the more he twisted and twirled them, the more I spread my legs, giving him free access to pleasure me right there at the dinner table. "Has anyone ever told you you're a good girl in bed?" Luther whispered, and I glared at him in response. He just smiled at that, his face looking annoyingly handsome.

"God, you're infuriating," I whispered under my breath.

He caught it. "Do you want me to slam you on the table and take you in front of everyone?" he threatened with a smile, his voice a low growl.

I swear I almost lost it right then and there, but his fingers felt way too good to stop. So I chose to stay silent. It wasn't because I was a "good girl" or whatever he meant. His fingers just felt good, and I was allowing it, just for a moment.

As I looked at his smirking face, a thought caught me off guard. This was the same man I used to be terrified of. The same man who never smiled. Yet here he was, an annoying jerk, a perverted god who was grinning at me while fingering me under a dinner table. The sheer overturn of his personality was mind-boggling, and for the first time since I'd arrived, my mind was too busy questioning his actions to feel the shame of my own.

"Spread your legs more," he leaned in and whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. His words were a low command, and my body responded in an instant, tilting to give him more access before my brain even caught up. When I realized what I was doing, I pulled back, the small movement a silent refusal.

"No," I refused, my voice a shaky whisper, my legs clamping down on his hand. I was already at the very edge of discovery. If I spread my legs even a bit more, Nash would immediately notice his hand under my skirt. It was a risk I wasn't willing to take.

"Come on, princess, spread them so I can give you much better service," he pleaded, his voice a faked, playful whine, but his eyes screamed that it was a command. His tone was a masterful blend of playful and demanding, a combination that made me gulp and, to my shame, slowly spread my legs.

It was in that moment that I realized I was just as crazy as him. I wasn't just letting him do this to me; I was actively participating in his madness. I was sitting at a dinner table, with my fiancé a foot away, my legs spread wide enough for his uncle to pleasure me.

With better access, he inserted three fingers into my p***y, stretching my inner muscles and working his fingers deeper. At the same time, he pressed his palm against my clit, hitting it from the inside, the double stimulation sending a shockwave of pleasure through me.

The knot in my stomach tightened, and I grabbed the table, my knuckles turning white as my orgasm fast approached. It was getting harder and harder to hold the moans inside, and right as I was about to c*m, Nash turned to me.

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