Stepdad's Pet; His Son's Plaything

A'S

ee

me as a physical outlet for the obsession he didn't kn

. When we passed each other in the narrow hallway, his shoulder would brush mine with enough force to stagger me,

that said he owned a piece

ashing wave. Jordan was the deep,

ss the expensive Persian rugs of the living room. It was that heavy, d

ught on by the summer heat. Reign had roared out of the driveway on his motorcycle

a, a book forgotten in my

. The "over protective father" facade was gone, replace

oned at the collar, revealing the strong, corded muscles of his throat and the dusting of dark hair at the top of his c

cing me. His voice was like velvet over gra

im; I stalked. Every step felt like a transgression. "Mom is out for the

role of "Daddy's Girl." It was the ultimate camouflage. It allowed me to touch him, to lean o

legs, and rested my chin on his knee. "You

down instinctively to rest on my head. His fingers threaded through my hair, a ges

d smell him-the scent of cedarwood, expensive stationery, and that faint, intoxicating hint of bourbon. It was

trailing up his leg. My fingers grazed the fine

e shift i

itched. Beneath my cheek, I felt the unmistakable, sudden surge of his reaction. He

ring down at me, his face a mask of warring emotions. The "gentleman" was losing the fight to the predator I'd

on that vibrated through my very bones. "You... you s

oving higher, my palm cupping the heavy heat blooming beneath his zi

Jordan didn't push my hand away. He couldn't. His fingers tightened in

g," he hissed, but his hips betray

Daddy," I countered, the word

heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, the fear of being caught only making the fire in

nd hot enough to burn. He was ev

r up in a loose ponytail and took him into my mout

he desperately tried to stifle by biting his own lip. His hands flew to my shoulders, his grip

ys; the maid could walk in, or my mother could wake up and call down from the landing. But that was

his face. I wanted to see him come apart. I wanted to see the moment

t with those huge, capable hands, and hauled me up. In a blurred motion of limbs and s

d demanding. The synchronization was perfect-the same rhythm I'd heard through the wall, but this time, I w

thud-clack of the front do

forgot my

e must have slipped out the back door for

rnered animal. We were a mess of exposed skin and frantic breathing, tang

she called out, her footsteps c

rrifying blend of horror and lingering