Chapter 121 Uncle Artie (9)

Chapter 121 Uncle Artie (9)
Genevieve
The next morning, the tension in the office between us felt like a live wire. My father was pacing the rug, concluding a meeting with Arthur, Marcus, and two other board members. I stood next to Arthur, leaning over a stack of spreadsheets as the final directives were given.
“The numbers for the April targets are here,” I said, my voice professional and steady.
“Let me see,” Arthur murmured. He didn’t look at the tablet. Instead, he reached out, his hand sliding under the table and resting on my hip. His thumb hooked into the waistband of my skirt, tugging it just enough to let the air hit my skin. “You’ve been very thorough, Genevieve. I like the attention to detail.”
I felt a flush creep up my neck. My father turned around as the others began to pack up. “She’s a fast learner, isn’t she, Arthur?”
“The fastest,” Arthur replied, his fingers digging into my flesh. “She knows exactly how to follow instructions.” He looked up at me, a knowing smile on his lips.
At the close of work, I headed for the elevators. The doors were sliding shut when Marcus stepped in. The doors closed, and for a few floors, there was nothing but awkward silence as we watched the numbers descend.
“So, the art gallery exhibition you mentioned,” I said, trying to fill the quiet. “How did the show go?”
Marcus shrugged. “It was fine. There was a decent crowd. It was a pleasant show.” He shifted his weight, his eyes fixed on the doors. “You and Artie seem pretty close,” he remarked casually. “He’s overprotective of you. Isn’t that a little weird?”
The air in the elevator suddenly felt nonexistent. I could hear my heart beating loudly in my chest, the perfect life I had built for myself slowly crumbling.
“Oh no, it isn’t. Uncle Artie didn’t have children of his own; he has always considered me his.” I lied through my teeth. Thankfully, the elevator halted. I let out a sigh of relief. “See you later, Marcus,” I said as the doors opened.
I didn’t look back. I walked through the lobby, but by the time I reached my car in the dim underground parking lot, I was trembling so hard I could barely find my keys.
“Genevieve.”
I jumped, letting out a small shriek. Arthur was leaning against the pillar next to my car, his coat over his arm.
“Arthur, he knows,” I gasped, the words tumbling out as I grabbed his forearm. “Marcus. He saw us. He made a comment in the elevator; he’s going to tell my father. He’s going to ruin everything.”
I felt the first real sob catch in my throat. I was terrified. The power I thought I had over Arthur vanished, replaced by the crushing weight of the secret we shared.
Arthur didn’t flinch. He reached out, his hands catching my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were cold, dark, and entirely unbothered.
“Stop,” he commanded.
“But the video—if he tells Daddy—” my eyes widened in fear. “He’s going to ruin us. What if he already told someone? What if—”
“I’ll handle it,” Arthur interrupted, his voice a low, steady baritone that cut through my panic.
“But you don’t understand, he was at the meeting, he probably saw us—”
“I said, I’ll handle it,” he repeated in a stern manner, grabbing me by the shoulders. “I already said I would take care of it.” He didn’t offer a long explanation or a plan. He brushed my fears aside as if they were a trivial issue. “I’ve handled everything else, haven’t I?”
The simple, arrogant finality of it stopped my breath. Uncle Artie always took care of things; he had taken care of a lot of things for me in the past. He wasn’t worried because, in his world, he had already won. He was used to winning. The fear began to disappear, replaced by a rush of relief. He was the monster, but he was my monster.
I didn’t wait. I reached for his belt, my movements frantic and fueled by the adrenaline of the narrow escape. I needed him, right here, right in the open, even if my brain was screaming how reckless it was.
“Right here,” I whispered, pulling him toward the shadows between our cars.
He pinned me against the cold metal of my car, his hands sliding up my thighs and bunching my skirt at my waist. He spanked my ass hard, causing me to mutter under my breath.
“I love your panties, Gen. When I’m done with you, I want them for myself.” I didn’t understand what he meant until later.
He pushed my panties to the side and thrust into me from behind. His hands held me steady as he began to move faster.
“Oh f—” I bit down on my lip to stop myself from moaning out loud. We were out in the open, barely hidden between two cars. The thrill of doing it with the fear of being caught at any moment sent chills down my spine.
Uncle Artie spanked my ass again and lightly slammed me against the car, plunging deeper into me.
“Uncle Ar—”
He spanked me again. “Call me daddy.”
I froze. I stopped moving my hips to meet his strokes halfway. Daddy? Daddy was pushing it a little too far. He and my father were friends, after all. Surely, he didn’t mean that.
He leaned closer to my ear, biting down on my earlobe. “I want you to call me daddy, Gen. I want to hear you say it with your naughty little mouth.”
I hesitated for a moment. His strokes had gotten slower, but like the little degenerate I was, I whispered softly, “Daddy…”
He was instantly charged up. He gripped my waist and began to pound into me. That was the word that could best describe what was happening to me. My legs lifted off the ground; I was barely holding up my weight. He pulled out completely and then slammed back into me with a force that drove me against the cold metal of the car.
He was going to handle it just like he was handling me. And as I arched my back, offering myself to him, I knew I didn’t care about the risk anymore. As long as Arthur was the one holding the leash, I was safe. I shut my eyes and felt the rush.
I came so hard I needed a minute to catch my breath. Uncle Artie didn’t pull out either. By the time we were both done, my panties were soaking. He pulled them off, stuffed them into his pocket, and pulled down my skirt.