Chapter 68: Auntie Vivian

"It’s insane. Sweet in a reckless way, maybe. But insane."

She smoothed the side of her skirt where my hand had been, then glanced towards the door again, listening. Uncle Sam’s voice carried up once more — cheerful, completely oblivious— followed by the clink of bottles.

Auntie Vivian looked back at me, the corner of her mouth curved in a dry, mature smile.

"I’m not offended. I’m not going to make a scene. But you need to understand something, I know exactly what I look like, and I know exactly what young people like you see when you look at me. That doesn’t mean I’m going to play along."

She tilted her head slightly. "Curiosity is one thing. Crossing lines while the whole family is under the same roof is another."

She reached past me and nudged the door open a little wider again, restoring the earlier half- open position.

"So," she said, tone still calm, almost gentle, "are we going to go back downstairs and act like a normal family... or are you going to keep testing how far you think you can push this?"

The words landed harder than I expected.

I stood there in the soft afternoon light of the guest room, the half- open door letting in the distant sounds of Uncle Sam’s carefree laughter downstairs, then I felt the heat rise under my skin— not because of the earlier thrill of touching her waist, but something sharper and more tangled.

Embarrassment first. Hot and immediate. The way she had removed my hand so calmly, the dry little laugh, the cool assessment in her eyes — it all made the boldness I’d been carrying feel suddenly exposed and foolish.

I thought I was so sure the tension was mutual, that the lingering looks and the way she hadn’t pulled away earlier meant something.

Hearing her call it *insane* stung more than I wanted to admit.

Then came the frustration. A low, restless burn in my chest. She was standing right there, still close enough that I could smell her perfume, still looking every bit as composed and desirable as she had when I first started pushing.

Yet she had drawn a clean line with the easy authority of someone who had seen this kind of attention before and simply declined it.

The rejection felt mature, almost gentle, but as if I was scolded which even made it worse. I couldn’t even be mad at her or let myself take the easier route LUST would always suggest for me.

Underneath both of those feelings sat a stubborn spark of arousal that refused to die.

Being scolded by her — quietly, firmly, without raising her voice — had an unexpected edge to it.

The way she spoke to me like I was reckless and young while she remained fully in control left a strange, charged ache low in my abdomen.

Part of me wanted to push harder, to prove her wrong. Another part just stood there, pulse still elevated, feeling oddly smaller and more aware of the difference of years and experiences between us.

I swallowed. They earlier confidence cracked but not completely gone.

Uncle Sam’s voice rose again — cheerful, completely unaware — calling up that the steaks were almost ready and everyone should start heading to the table.

The ordinary family noises felt surreal against the quiet tension still hanging in the guest room.

Auntie Vivian smoothed her dress one last time and gave me a small, measured look.

Surprisingly the day had gone pretty fast.

"Dinner," she said simply. Not unkind, but final. "We should get going before someone comes looking."

She stepped past me into the hallway, close enough that her shoulder brushed mine for half a second.

The brief contact sent another unwanted flicker of awareness through me, but she didn’t pause or even glance back.

Her heels sounded soft and steady on the stairs as she descended, already shifting back into the role of visiting relative — polite, composed, untouchable.

I followed a few beats later, still feeling the residual warmth in my face and the restless ache she had left behind.

"I’m done.. I’m not going any further with this quest, LUST." I whispered.

[What do you mean, you have her just were you want her to be. The Kenji I serve would never say something like that]

"True, but for now I’m taking a break."

By the time I reached the kitchen, she was already accepting a glass of wine from Kim, smiling at something Uncle Sam said as he was coming in from the patio with a platter of steaks.

He clapped me lightly on the shoulder as he passed, grinning, still unaware at all that had happened upstairs.

"Perfect timing," he said. Hungry?"

Auntie Vivian’s eyes flicked to mine across the room for the briefest moment — cool unreadable — then returned to the conversation as if the entire exchange in the guest room never occurred.

The table filled with its usual noise of family dinner — clinking silverware, overlapping talks, Uncle Sam launching into a long story about the drive up.

I took a seat, the earlier scolding still echoing in my head, it wasn’t long until I left everyone else at the table and went up to my room.

Thinking that with this new life, a young rich chad like myself would get rejected in the most embarrassing way. God i couldn’t even look at her even though I wanted to at dinner.

But then something a thought hit my mind like a divine revelation. I figured I was too direct with my intentions and she perceived it regardless of who ever I am or what i have.

Just like the way I made Kim feel unseen and still tempt her — she ended up surrendering completely to me and by default Mei came along — this was the perfect method to use if I wanted to crack that hard shell of Auntie Vivian.

I left my room door deliberately opened slightly after dinner, just wide enough that anyone passing would catch through a narrow view if they glanced inside.

The strategy required patience and calculated risk— No contact, no obvious pursuit. Just opportunity.

I stripped without hurry, folding my clothes neatly on the chair.

The soft click of the hallway floorboards reached me a second before the door swung open further.

I didn’t flinch to cover myself. Instead I stayed exactly where I was, standing by the bed as if I had simply been changing and hadn’t noticed the intrusion.

My expression stayed calm, almost distracted, while my mind tracked every detail, the timing, the angle, the exact second she would realize what she was seeing.

I reached for a clean shirt on the dresser, the motion slow and unhurried, the fabric dangling from my fingers as I remained fully exposed.

Auntie Vivian’s POV...

She had only meant to ask if I had seen the extra towels.

The door was half open, she gave a short knock out of habit and pushed it wider without waiting.

The sight stopped her cold.

He stood near the bed, completely naked, the late evening light from the window tracking every line of his body.

’I should leave right now.’

The thought was clear, adult, and sensible. But she stood right there at the doorway of her nephew’s room staring at him while he was completely naked, and every year of experience she had told herself, this was the moment to turn around, close the door, and pretend it never happened.

Yet her feet’s stayed planted.

’He still hasn’t turned.’

He’s still sorting through that drawer with the same calm, almost absent minded focus, the shirt dangling of his fingers as if he had all the time in the world.

The light coming in from the window made it impossible not to notice the clean lines of his body — the strength in his back, the way his ass curved, the heavy, relaxed hang of his cock. Cataloguing every detail made her feel sick to her stomach but she couldn’t help it.

’This is ridiculous, I’ve told myself already. I’m a grown woman. Besides that, I shut him down hours ago. I called him insane for even trying. One accidental glimpse doesn’t change that this is inappropriate on every level.’

But the hesitation wouldn’t leave.

Part of Vivian was irritated— at Kenji for leaving the door unlocked, and at herself for looking longer than a second, at the quiet heat that she’d been fighting seen when she laid eyes on him stirred low in her stomach against her will.

Another part, the part she usually kept locked down, kept whispering that he looked good. Better than he had the right to. And the fact that he seemed completely oblivious made it worse.

’If he had turned and smirked, i could have snapped at him and walked away clean. Instead he’s just standing there, naked and calm, giving me no easy excuse to be angry.’

’I should say something shaper. I should tell him to put some clothes on and stop being careless. I should remember that my family is downstairs, laughing with the rest of them, completely unaware.’

Yet the words stayed stuck behind her teeth..