In His Custody

by Jessa Kane

  “Show them I’m your Daddy, London.”

  I’m wrapped in the pleasure, the friction, but there’s something inside me that can’t help but obey him. That wants to obey him, because it will give him satisfaction as well as me.

  Without hesitation, I drop my head back and let my stepfather molest my mouth.

  Let him sink his tongue deep and wind it together with mine, his grip turning almost bruising between my legs, the pleasure/pain almost pushing me toward a climax. Almost, almost, but he breaks the kiss and walks me forward once more, breaking the spell. The group of guys walk ahead quickly, muttering to each other, eventually moving out of sight. And there’s no more behaving. Not after that.

  I turn in Brody’s arms and find myself yanked up on my toes, our mouths feasting on each other, his big hand beneath my skirt, roughly kneading my butt cheeks, his huge erection wedged between our bellies.

  “We’re going to ride this ride, little girl,” he rasps, tracing the split of my backside with his calloused middle finger. “And then I’m going to take you to the parking lot and fuck you silly in the backseat of my car. Tell me you want it, too.”

  “I want it,” I whimper, letting him lift me up into his hold, my toes rubbing against his shins, our mouths interlocked and breathing, breathing.

  “Please step into lane three,” someone calls behind us. “You’re in the next car.”

  We both laugh, Brody managing to set me down, but he keeps his arm around my shoulder, his lips grazing my temple periodically, as we take our place to wait our turn.

  As excited as I am to ride this roller coaster—I’ve been waiting since I was a child—I can barely focus on anything but the man beside me and what’s about to happen.

  I’m going to have sex with him and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  My conscience is no match for the gravity between us.

  How safe I feel with him. How wanted.

  On the way down the steep drop, everyone around me screams and I throw my arms up in the air, screaming along with them, letting the night air cool my flushed cheeks, the wind sending my hair in a hundred directions. And when I reach the bottom and I’m laughing, more exhilarated than I can ever remember, Brody is watching me with an emotion in his eyes that I can’t name, but it echoes inside me, substantial and undeniable.

  He takes me hand and helps me off the ride, leading me out of the park.

  7

  Brody

  It seems to take hours to reach my Range Rover, but in reality it’s only minutes. I have to keep stopping to kiss London’s sweet mouth, my hands running all over the delectable curves of her body. A few times, I swear we’re not going to make it to the relative privacy of my vehicle, that I’m going to back her into the shadows and fuck her standing up in plain view of anyone passing by, but we make it somehow, my finger stabbing the button on my key ring to unlock the door.

  As obsessed as I am with my stepdaughter, I underestimated how much. I was shortsighted to think I could take this slow and work on bringing us close when I love her so much. When I need to be inside her more than I need the blood in my veins. She is magnificent. She is mine. And I can’t wait any longer to make that truth real in every sense.

  Even though we’ve only known each other one day, I have to believe she will not get scared and run away when I reveal the full truth of how I found her. I have to have faith.

  Confidence intact, I pull open the back door, watching London clamber inside on hands and knees. She turns to me, wide eyed and excited, and there’s no more waiting. Her thighs are parted, showing off her panties, offering me her cherry on a platter. I’m going to take it. I have to. With my cock straining painfully behind my fly, I lunge in behind her and slam the door, locking it, turning and flattening her on the backseat.

  “Daddy is done waiting,” I growl, ripping her T-shirt down the middle.

  The street light comes in through the tinted window to play on her pale, trembling globes, the peaked nipples in the center of them.

  “Fuck,” I snap, unzipping her jeans skirt and tearing the thing down her legs, throwing it over my shoulder. “You’ve driven me to the edge, little girl. It was hard enough having you wiggle that tight ass around in my lap without coming. Then I see other males looking at you?” I yank down her panties and discard them in the foot well. “For that, I’m going to pump so deep, you’ll see stars.”

  “How is that my fault?” she whispers, watching me unzip my jeans, quick breaths expanding her ribcage.

  “It’s not, baby.” I take my cock, groaning over the freedom, the space it has now to grow. “You’re just the one who pays for my jealousy. It’s not fair, is it?”

  She shakes her head, moving her long blonde hair around her shoulders.

  I push her legs apart and pin her, dropping my heavy dick down on top of her mound and rolling my hips. At the same time, I shove my mouth up against her ear and say, “No, it’s not fair, but those are the breaks when you’ve got a sweet little hole between your legs that fits a man’s cock, London. It’s where seed goes. And the seed builds and builds every fucking second of the day in a man.” I ram my dick up against the juncture of her thighs, capturing her gasp with my left palm. “When I see another man looking at what’s mine, all I can think about is getting my seed inside you first. Your tight, wet pussy does that. It drives me goddamn crazy, so I can only imagine what it’s doing to every other man in the vicinity. When that happens, you get fucked, hard and raunchy. End of story. Fair is the last thing on my mind.”

  Maybe I should be holding back the harsh truth of my possessiveness, but I can’t. With her cornflower eyes blinking at me over the top of my hand, everything comes tumbling out. She’s got me too horny and jealous to temper my words. Or my actions. That must be why I take my left hand off her mouth and take rough hold of my cock, guiding it between her thighs. Rubbing a path up and down within her folds to gather dampness, before working it into the impossibly narrow entrance to her body.

  “Come on, baby,” I grit, managing to get the head inside. “Let Daddy in.”

  “I’m trying,” she hiccups.

  God, she’s so beautiful, naked beneath me on the seat. With her cunt lips parted around my shaft, I almost shove the rest of the way in. But I love this girl. I love her in a way that goes beyond reason and sanity—and she’s a virgin. Whether she did it consciously or not, she saved herself for me. I won’t squander this gift.

  Bringing our mouths together, I soothe her with a long, unhurried kiss. I tongue her deep in that pretty mouth until she starts to mewl, her hips getting restless. Moisture rushes to the place where I’ve only managed to get an inch deep, the slickness allowing me to push in more. And more. Until I’m about halfway. I keep working my mouth over the top of hers, swallowing her little anxious sounds. Waiting for a sign that she’s ready for the rest of my cock. And I get it when she digs her nails into my ass and makes a sound of frustration.

  “More, Daddy.”

  I go fucking blind for a minute, the pleasure of those words is so intense. Then, desperate as a beast in heat, I grip the door handle, prop my right foot against the opposite side of the vehicle and shove—hard—ripping through the barrier of her innocence.

  London’s whine fills the car, clashing with my growl.

  “Are you okay?” I ask raggedly.

  “Yes,” she gasps, her knees raising, hugging my sides.

  I’m already stroking. Ferociously. I can’t stop.

  She’s tight as hell and drenched. Perfect.

  The Range Rover rocks around us, the windows fogging from our hot breaths and the aggressiveness with which I’m mating my stepdaughter. There is both pleasure and pain in the act. Pleasure from looking at her, having our sweaty skin slide together, our mouths locked and fucking in their own way, my cock being squeezed rhythmically, being taken to heaven. There is also pain in keeping the semen from spewing out immediately, in honor of her perfection. In honor of my obsession. There is
pain in my cramped belly, my weighted balls slapping off her supple backside, over and over, reminding me how badly I need to lighten them.

  The sexual frustration, the effort it takes to keep from ejaculating, sends my teeth into her shoulder, burying there with a roar. Her cries are gratified, her fingers tunneling into my hair and holding me there, even encouraging me with whimpers to bite down harder.

  I have to stop.

  I cease my hurried pumps, all too aware that five more and I’m done.

  “Lasting until you come is going to be the death of me,” I rasp, my lips moving over her mouth. “But I’ll wait every single time.” I nip at her chin. “No relief until you’re shaking.”

  “I don’t know how,” she says in a rush. “Th-there’s a ticklish feeling but it’s different than the one…than when you did it with your mouth.” Pink climbs her neck and I fall in love with London a hundred fold. No, a thousand. “It’s b-bigger.”

  “Damn right it is, baby. My cock is filling you this time.” Keeping eye contact with her, I grind the base of my shaft against her clit, only thrusting a few inches in and out of her entrance. “Let the feeling get even bigger. I’ve got you.”

  London nods, looks at me through her lashes. “The feeling is in my chest, too.” She claps a hand down over her heart, her tits bouncing around it with my punctuated drives. “H-here. I can’t help it. I know this has to be a secret—”

  “No.” My heart shoots up into my mouth. “Don’t you dare try to help that feeling, London. It’s safe. You are safe with me.” I pick up my pace, driving her up the seat with every slap of my hips. “Let the feeling get bigger everywhere. In your tummy and in your chest. I have the same ones.”

  Her back arches on a moan. “You do?”

  “God, yes, baby. Do you think I’d be able to keep you a secret?” I drop my mouth to the slope of her neck, raking a path up to her ear. “If we’re in the same room, my hands are on you. No other way I can live.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll worry about the hard stuff. Right now, your job is to come.” I groan into her neck, gripping her knees and shoving them up until they’re touching the seat and she’s folded in half, my hips pounding furiously, the seat creaking beneath us, the car rocking on its wheels. “Daddy’s meat can’t take much more.”

  Two thrusts later, her breath catches, her pussy cinching up tight around me and she wails in my ear, her knees shaking against my pressing shoulders. “Brody.” She slaps her hands down on my humping buttocks and digs her nails in, screaming up at the roof of the car. “Daddy.”

  Nothing could keep me from releasing now. It tears out of me like a pack of wild dogs, shredding my stomach and knitting it back together tightly, harsh shudders taking me over. Everywhere. My thighs, my straining balls, my throat. Months of lusting and fantasizing are pumped between her thighs, my much larger body flattening her on the seat, my final drives savage, an assault on her tempting body and sweet, wet cunt.

  “Mine.” I grip her around her throat, looking her in the eye. “Mine.”

  “Yes,” she gasps, eyes unfocused. “Just for Brody.”

  “That’s right.” A hard shudder wracks me as the final drop of come is expelled. “Forever, little girl,” I say, kissing her hard. “Consider your fate sealed.”

  I go boneless on top of her, my mouth moving against her temple, whispering her name, promises, praise for the way she took me. But when I catch her eye, she looks like she wants to say something.

  “What is it, London?”

  The color on her face deepens. “I was wondering if…well. What about the rest?” She crooks her finger and I come eagerly, my dick getting hard again when her lips graze my ear. “I want my spanking, Daddy.”

  The words have barely left her mouth before she’s flipped over, face down on the seat, the sounds of my slaps and her answering whimpers echoing in the dark car. It has never been more obvious that this girl was made solely for me. That she is the love of my life. My soul mate and obsession. We are two sides of the same coin and nothing will ever come between us.

  And that means it’s time to tell her everything.

  As soon as we get home, London is going to find out exactly how deep—and twisted—my feelings for her run. Not to mention, what I was willing to do to have her.

  8

  London

  I’m depleted of energy. Feel like I’m flying, even though I’m a lump of limbs on the passenger seat of Brody’s Range Rover. I can’t seem to stop mooning at him, either. Everything about him steals my breath. The way he drapes his wrist over the steering wheel, making capable turns, reaching over to stroke his thumb down the side of my face every so often.

  What am I going to do?

  What is happening here?

  Am I in a serious relationship with my stepfather? It certainly seems that way, especially when he’s throwing around words like fate, forever and mine.

  And Daddy.

  I’m not sure what’s happening inside of me—or if there is something a little twisted between me and Brody—but I can’t help the rush of emotion attached to that title. It makes me feel coveted and safe and treasured. Like our attachment is permanent and not fleeting, not temporary like I’m used to. When he uses that word, or even when I do, I feel special. And this thing between us becomes more permanent.

  Right?

  A touch of worry creeps in. I’ve been fooled before. My mother tried to put down roots a few times when I was young and I got my hopes up, made friends in school, thought this might be the time she finally stuck around longer than a few weeks. But that was never the case. There was always that afternoon when I came home from school and found someone else in her place. Or a note explaining that she was gone and a non-family member would be watching out for me until she returned.

  This thing with Brody feels incredibly different, but that just means it will hurt hard if I’m wrong, doesn’t it?

  My pulse is firing when we turn the corner down his block—and it skyrockets when I see who is standing in the driveway of Brody’s house.

  It’s my mother.

  She’s leaning against the bumper of her Jetta, studying her nails. Tan, but visibly exhausted in a teal Cancun sweatshirt and pajama pants. I’ve arrived home to this scene more times than I can count and there used to be a spark of joy and hope when she came back. This time, though, there is nothing.

  At first.

  Dread starts to creep in slowly—and I realize in that moment how attached I’ve gotten to Brody in only a single day. Stupid. That was a stupid thing to do. My mother is home now—his wife! He’ll have no choice but to set me aside. Abandon me. It’s even the right thing to do, isn’t it? I’m the interloper here. I’m the betrayer.

  “Goddammit,” Brody mutters through his teeth. “I don’t believe this.”

  “It’s fine. I understand.”

  His sharp gaze zips to mine. “You understand what?”

  “That you have to…that this c-can’t happen again.” My throat feels like it’s closing up. I don’t believe it, but I think I fell in love with this man. I was right, this hurts worse than any other time. He can’t keep me. No one ever keeps me and this time is the worst it’s ever felt. A hundred times worse. I yearn for the safety of juvenile hall where they could lock me in and I could lock out the hurt and the people who did it to me.

  “London, I’m going to explain everything,” Brody says firmly, pulling the Range Rover up to the curb and putting it into park. I look out the passenger window toward my mother, whose expression is blank, her face obscured by the raindrops that are beginning to land on the windows of the vehicle. “Stay right here, okay? Do not move until I come back.”

  I nod, even though I have no intention of listening.

  My whole life has been about outrunning the hurt, trying to get as far as I can away from it before it sticks to me. This time, it’s already stuck, but I’ll keep going and hope my feelings for this man go away.

  As soo
n as Brody gets out of the car and approaches my mother, I throw myself out of the passenger door and book it across the street, holding my ripped T-shirt together and cutting through the darkness. Brody shouts my name, alarmed, but I continue to sprint, cursing my choice of flip flops from this morning. The sky opens up overhead and the rain gets worse, dampening the asphalt, thunder rolling in the distance. Tears are blurring my vision, making the streetlights look like little balls of fire. I ignore the burning in my lungs and keep running, needing to get away from the vision of Brody walking away from me, just like everyone else.

  There’s a park at the end of the street. Blindly, I run toward it, hoping to find somewhere to take cover long enough to think of a plan. But I’ve only gotten halfway through the park when I’m dragged to a stop by an immovable object. An arm bands around my middle and I’m elevated off the ground, legs still moving in mid-air, my back meeting a hard chest.

  “I told you not to move until I came back,” Brody bellows above my head. “Don’t you ever run from me again. You could have gotten hurt, London.”

  “Put me down,” I scream, fighting his hold, panicking. “Please don’t make me come back. Please just let me go!”

  “What part of forever don’t you understand?” He stomps us toward an overhang of trees, putting us out of sight from the houses on the other side of the street. “I am never letting you go. Don’t even say those words out loud.”

  “You have to. She’s back and now you have t-to leave me. Or move on.” A hiccup wracks me. “It happens every single time and you’re not going to be any different.”

  “Oh, I’m not?” He sets me down on the dampening earth and spins me around, taking my shoulders in his big hands. “I know you’ve been hurt, baby, and that you’re scared. But you need to trust me.”