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"Daddy, I'm home!" I called out, pushing through the heavy front door.

When no answer came, I dropped my backpack in the entryway and drifted toward the kitchen.

Through the window, I could see my father, Marcus, out in the yard cutting the grass. It was mid-June, the official final day of school, and the humidity had been climbing steadily.

By 5 o'clock, the air felt like a warm, wet blanket. Between cleaning out my locker and the long, lingering goodbyes with friends, I had stayed late, and the transition into the air conditioning felt like a miracle.

As I watched Marcus push the mower, sweat glistened on his chest and traced the lines of his abdomen. I felt a familiar shiver run through me. I’d been feeling that a lot lately when looking at him. He looked incredible for his age only a touch of silver at his temples, a few sun-etched lines around his eyes, and skin bronzed deep from hours outdoors.

His career as a general contractor had built a frame of solid muscle. Even though he ran the firm now, he still possessed the powerful chest and lean stomach of a man who spent his life on a job site. None of the boys at school could compare to that kind of seasoned strength; the athletes were mostly arrogant kids looking for a quick win.

I wasn’t interested in being a trophy for a teenager. I wanted a man.

Marcus wasn't even that old. He and my mother married when I was nine making him my stepdad, and now he is 38 especially since I’d turned eighteen last week.

My mother passed away from cancer when I was twelve. Between the hospital visits and the funeral, I’d missed enough school that year to have to repeat a grade, which is why I still had one more year of high school left despite being eighteen.

I poured a tall glass of iced tea and stepped out onto the back deck.

"Hi, daddy!" I shouted over the roar of the engine. He was circling the pool area now. I waved until he caught my eye. He killed the engine and trudged toward me.

"Hey, princess," he said, flashing that signature wide smile.

"How’s my girl?"

"Good. You okay, daddy? You look like you need this." I handed him the tea.

"You're a lifesaver, sweetheart," he said, draining the glass in three massive gulps. He handed it back, wiping his brow.

"I'd give you a hug, but I’m a mess right now."

He held his arms out, showcasing the sweat shimmering on his skin. I didn't turn away; I took the opportunity to look him up and down. I felt my chest tighten and my nipples harden at the close-up view of his heat and muscle.

"I don't mind, daddy," I said, meeting his gaze.

A strange, flickering expression crossed his face I knew he’d caught me looking. "All sweaty and everything?" he challenged softly.

"Mmhmm," I replied. "I’m heading for a shower anyway."

"Well, c’mere then."

I stepped into his space, immediately wrapped in his strength and that heavy, masculine scent. At 5'4", I tucked right under his chin. I leaned into him, moving slightly against his chest. When I finally pulled back, his sweat had turned my white button-down school shirt translucent. We both looked down simultaneously to see my nipples straining prominently against the damp fabric of the shirt and my bra.

"Sorry, baby," he murmured, his voice a bit huskier. "Didn’t mean to ruin the shirt."

His eyes lingered on my chest. I have what people call a classic cheerleader’s build long legs, a firm seat, and a tiny waist but my chest has always been the main event. At 34DD, they felt like they were constantly growing; even my current bras were starting to feel like they couldn't quite contain the curves pushing against the cups.

"It’s okay," I told him. "I’ll just jump in the wash and change after my shower."

"Hurry up then," he said, finally pulling his eyes back to mine. "Uncle Silas is coming over for dinner."

"Okay, marc," I said, turning back toward the house.

"Thanks for the drink, baby!" he called out.

I glanced back over my shoulder. He was standing there, watching me walk away, his eyes fixed on the swing of my uniform skirt. It seemed I wasn't the only one noticing things today.

Upstairs, I tossed the uniform in the hamper and stepped into a steaming shower. I took my time, shaving my legs until they were silk. I checked my bikini line too; I preferred being completely smooth and hair-free. Since I’d shaved that morning, I was already set, but the sensation made me linger. I let my fingers wander, teasing myself briefly under the spray. I hadn't done much with boys, but I knew exactly how to take care of myself. I wished I had time for more, but with Silas coming, I had to move.

Uncle Silas was Marcus’s younger brother. At thirty, he was just as fit as my father a result of them running the construction business together. They were inseparable, and since Mom passed, Silas had basically helped raise me. Sometimes I’d joke about having two fathers.

Back in my room, I pulled my hair into a high ponytail to beat the heat. I wanted as little fabric on me as possible. I reached for a new light blue bikini I’d bought recently. The top was two small triangles tied with thin strings; the bottoms were equally minimal, sitting low on my hips. Over it, I slid on a tiny white tennis skirt and a sleeveless button-up shirt that I tied in a knot just below my breasts. It left my midriff bare and pushed my cleavage into a deep, inviting V. Plenty of skin for a breeze and for my stepdad to catch.

I headed down to the kitchen and went straight for the fridge. I stood there with the door open, letting the cold air wash over me while I rummaged for ingredients.

I heard Marcus enter the room and stop dead in his tracks. I was bent over, my skirt hiked up just enough to reveal the curve of my rear and the blue strings of the bikini. I gave a little intentional shimmy before standing up with the fish and asparagus.

"Oh, hey, Marc," I said, putting the food on the island. "Want to fire up the grill for this?"

"Uh....sure, princess," he stammered. He was trying very hard not to stare at my chest, where the cold fridge air had made my nipples point stubbornly against the thin shirt.

"Let me just... hit the shower. I’ll be right back."

"Take your time," I chirped, reaching for a platter on the highest shelf. I heard a low, involuntary groan behind me as my skirt rose again.

"Did you say something?" I teased over my shoulder.

"N-no," he muttered, backing away. "Heading up now."

I giggled to myself. This summer was going to be very interesting.

As I was finishing the prep, the front door swung open. "Anybody home? Where’s my angel?"

That was Silas. While Marcus called me princess, Silas always used "angel." But they never called me by my name roseline. But i want to hear my name in their voice..

He stepped into the kitchen and pulled me into a hug from behind. His 6’3” frame was massive, and his hands came to rest naturally around my bare waist. I could feel his gaze dropping to my cleavage from his vantage point. I shook the salad greens under the faucet, causing my chest to bounce, and I felt him stiffen against my back.

"Hey, Silas," Marcus said, walking back into the room. "I forgot to ask how the last day went."

"Hey, Marc," Silas said, slowly releasing me. "That’s... quite an outfit the angel has on."

"Silas!" I turned, hands on my hips. "It’s a compliment, right? I didn't wear this to school. We have uniforms."

"I can vouch for that," Marcus added, his eyes scanning me again. I made sure to stand tall, thrusting my chest out slightly. "But it's definitely a lot more revealing than usual."

"I'm nineteen now," I reminded them. "It's boiling. What should I wear?"

"Just... put the apron on so you don't ruin it," Silas suggested, his voice tight.

I grabbed my blue-and-white checkered apron. It was frilly and small the bib barely covered the width of my breasts. I walked over to Silas. "Can you tie this for me? I think it’s tangled."

"Turn around," he commanded. I shivered as his hands worked the fabric. He smoothed the bib down, his thumbs intentionally or accidentally brushing the sides of my breasts. He pulled the strings tight around my waist, cinching the apron so it hugged every curve of my body.

Dinner on the deck was a blur of laughter and beer. We talked about their upcoming projects and my summer plans. I noticed both of them stealing glances whenever I moved. When it was time to clear the table, I lingered while bending over to grab the plates, making sure they had a perfect view of the valley between my breasts.

"Be right back," I said, heading inside.

I left the kitchen window open, and as I loaded the dishwasher, I heard them talking.

"Holy shit, Marc," Silas whispered. "That outfit? How are you letting her wear that?"

"Letting her?" Marcus fired back. "I came down and she was already like that. And don't act like you weren't pressing up against her earlier."

"I wasn't...." Silas paused. "Look, she's not a little girl anymore. How big do you think those are now?"

"Last I checked, she was a double-D," Marcus said. "But they look bigger lately."

My heart raced. Marcus was checking my bra sizes?

"Double-D? Damn," Silas exhaled. "She's definitely growing up."

"Yeah," Marcus agreed. "I'm noticing."

I smiled to myself, grabbed two fresh beers and my wine, and headed back out. I made sure to press my chest against Marcus's back as I set his drink down, then did the same for Silas, leaning in so close my breasts nearly touched his arm.

"Only one glass of wine, princess," Marcus warned.

"Oh, thank you!" I squealed, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing his cheek while leaning over the arm of his chair. I knew Silas had a direct line of sight to my rear. I heard him cough on his drink.

Delish!" I declared.

"Slow down, baby," Daddy said. "You can't drink that like it's water."

"Well," I giggled, "at least if I get drunk off one glass of wine, it's only you and Uncle here who could take advantage of me."

Marc and Silas awkwardly smiled, and I knew they were mulling over the idea I had just put in their heads - taking advantage of their 18-year-old daughter/niece!

Later, we moved to the living room.

"Uncle Silas," I said, holding up a beer. "Beer in exchange for untying this knot?"

I didn't wait for him to stand. I sat right down in his lap, my skirt riding up so there was almost nothing between us. I leaned forward, grinding my seat slightly into his thighs as I pretended to look for the knot.

"Can you see it?" I asked.

"Ye... yeah," he choked out. He untied the strings with shaking hands.

"Okay, Uncle," I said obediently and held still. He untied my apron, lifted it over my head, and laid it on the end table.

"So, who wants to rub my feet?" I asked, still holding the beers hostage.

"I will," Uncle said, removing me from his lap quickly. I'm pretty sure he didn't want me to feel the bulge growing there.

"Okay," I said, "I'll go sit in Daddy's lap while you rub."

I handed him a beer and Daddy a beer and then scooted closer to Daddy. It's a long couch, with Daddy at one end and Uncle Silas on the other.

What I usually do is lean against one while the other massages my feet, but today I wanted to take a step ahead. I swung my legs up onto the couch and put them right over Uncle silas's bulge in this lap.

Then, I scooted back all the way to Daddy's lap, dragging my legs over Uncle silas until just my feet and calves were still on him. Daddy lifted up his right arm, and I slid my torso under it, leaning back against his left arm and the couch arm, bracing my back in a half-seated position. His right arm came down across my bare stomach, but then he picked it up again as quickly as if he had been burned. His right arm had the beer bottle in it, and beer splashed over shirt, exposed chest, and stomach.

"Oops," I whispered, looking up at him.

"You missed."

To be continued...

So how roseline will get to hear her name in their voice...