Falling From Grace - Chapter 4
AN UNFOLDING ROMANCE BETWEEN UNCLE MATT AND HIS NIECE GRACE
This story is a slow-burn, emotionally intense journey told through micro-moments, small shifts, and inner dialogue. It explores themes of confusion, longing, caregiving, and the gradual unraveling of boundaries.
Please be aware that this chapter contains:
• Explicit sexual content between two related characters with a large age gap
• Emotional dependency and blurred caregiver roles
Reader discretion is strongly advised.
🩰✨🖤 BUT... If you're here for the slow ache and forbidden softness... enjoy and welcome. 🖤✨🩰
-------
He hadn't even made it to noon.
Tried to distract himself.
Tried to clean something. Fold something. Focus.
But she kept brushing up against him. Existing in their shared space.
Not because she was trying to be seductive.
Because she could. It felt right.
He escaped to the shed. Locked the door. Didn't bother turning on the light.
Dropped his jeans. Sat down hard on the old workbench.
His cock was already aching. Angry red. Swollen from everything he wasn't doing to her.
He gripped it with one hand.
Dragged his other hand over his thigh--right where she'd sat while she ate her breakfast.
Right where she'd left a slick little stain.
The fabric was still damp.
He found it. Pressed his fingers into it.
Swiped once. Brought them to his nose.
Inhaled.
Then sucked them into his mouth.
He moaned. Open-mouthed. Raw.
Her taste was soft and sweet and innocent and fucking ruined him.
He closed his eyes.
Jerked himself slowly.
Thought about kissing her belly.
Thought about holding her thighs open while she whimpered, "Please, Uncle Matty..."
Thought about the look on her face when she kissed him the first night. Satiated and proud of herself.
He licked his fingers again. Pressed harder into his cock.
Imagined her sitting on his face. Hoodie riding up. Hair in his hands.
His voice in her ear:
"Be a good girl and let me taste you, babygirl."
He stroked faster.
She would gasp. Shake. Try to be still.
He would praise her until she came.
And she would say thank you.
Because of course she would.
She was perfect.
He came hard. With a sharp, low grunt that echoed off the walls.
Covered his fist. His thighs. His stomach.
Collapsed against the workbench like he'd just survived something.
Maybe he had.
He wiped himself with an old rag, breath ragged, eyes wild.
Then looked down at his hand--still slick--and licked one more stripe from his knuckle.
Because she was in his mouth now.
And he wanted her to stay there.
Forever.
"Good girl," he whispered.
A sigh...
He headed for the house. Grace would wonder where he was. She followed him around like the sweetest little kitten.
Just as he reached the back door, his phone rang.
Liam.
Matt stared at the screen for a long second before answering.
"She's still there?"
Matt didn't answer right away.
"It's been two weeks."
"She's safe."
There was a pause.
"She's our daughter."
Matt's voice hardened. "Liam - she didn't finish high school for fuck's sake," Matt said. "You didn't bother to ask what she wanted to do with her life because you were too busy prepping her soul for the sky."
"She was homeschooled--"
"She was unprepared," Matt snapped. "She's brilliant. She's scared. She's never had a future to look toward because you convinced her there wouldn't be one."
Silence from Liam. Of course. Coward.
Matt hung up.
When he stepped back inside, Grace didn't mention that her little ears had heard the conversation. But later--while he stirred sauce on the stove--she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Pressed her face into his back. Stayed there without a word.
After dinner, they sat at the kitchen table. Her tablet was open between them. Matt pulled up online school options--GED programs, free college prep sites, lists of resources.
She tried to follow.
Took notes at first. Asked questions.
Then got overwhelmed.
"I don't even know where to start. I feel so behind."
Matt gently reached across the table. Moved her hair behind her ear.
"You're not behind," he said. "You've just never had support."
She blinked. Eyes glassy.
"I'm not trying to pressure you," he said. "We'll go at your pace."
She nodded.
"I want to try," she whispered.
"That's all I need."
--
He ran her a bath that evening.
She called him in after a few minutes--voice soft, lazy.
"Too hot," she pouted from behind the door.
He stepped in, adjusted the tap. Swirled the water with his hand until the steam settled. Checked the temperature again with his wrist, like he used to when she was little.
"That's better," he said.
She smiled.
Bare shoulders, flushed cheeks, his hoodie resting on the bathroom counter, waiting.
"Thanks," she said, almost shy.
She let him leave.
But not before he caught a glimpse of her beautiful body as she stepped back into the water.
Pink from the heat.
Slick from the steam.
When she came out later, she was soft.
Damp. Glowing.
Wrapped in his hoodie again--no pants. The hem barely covered her ass.
Her hair dripped down her back, leaving little wet spots on the fabric.
She smelled like honey and that fucking shampoo.
He didn't say anything.
Just sat on the edge of the couch and patted the spot in front of him.
She sat between his thighs.
Facing away. Knees tucked to either side. Her body warm and relaxed against his chest.
He reached for the brush.
Started at the ends.
Worked slow.
Gentle.
Rhythmic.
Her hair was thick and wet and slid through his fingers like ribbon.
She exhaled. Closed her eyes.
"You're good at this," she murmured.
"I've had practice."
She leaned back into him. Her bare thighs relaxed against his. Her hips settled lower in his lap.
Like she didn't know what she was doing.
Like she did.
He let his chin rest just beside her temple.
Kept brushing.
And tried--truly tried--not to get hard.
--
They were brushing their teeth when she asked.
"Uncle Matty?"
He looked over. Toothbrush still in his mouth.
She swished and spat. Stared at the sink.
"...Can I kiss you when we wake up?"
The question was soft. Almost shy.
He rinsed. Dried his hands. Thought for a moment before answering.
"You can ask," he said gently. "Anytime."
She tilted her head. Looked up at him.
"But... not always yes?"
"Right," he said. "Because part of us being safe is knowing when it's appropriate or not. I will take care of that part for now."
She nodded like she understood. Bit her lip.
"So is it yes for tomorrow?"
His chest tightened.
"Yeah," he said, voice warm. "Tomorrow morning, if you want to, you can kiss me."
Her smile was small. Pleased.
Not giddy. Not flirty.
Just... content.
"Okay."
And she turned off the bathroom light.
