by Jessa Kane
I’m already shaking my head. “No. No—”
“Dammit, we were supposed to have time.” He squeezes his eyes closed. “I thought the money I gave your mother would keep her gone, but I underestimated how irresponsible she is.”
“Money?” I sniff hard, wiping tears and rain off my cheeks. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
Brody sighs unevenly, his hands dropping away from my shoulders. He paces away, hands on hips and comes back. And I gasp when the moonlight catches his face, because…he’s more intense than I’ve ever seen him. His eyes are so penetrating that my pulse tumbles end over end. “I paid her to leave so I’d have you alone when you came home. All to myself. I met your mother in a bar. She was going on and on to the bartender about needing some medical procedure, a cist removed, but she didn’t have the insurance coverage. It wasn’t any of my business. I wasn’t interested in the conversation. But then…she unlocked her phone and I saw you on the screen.” He takes a step closer. “God help me, I was done. I knew you. I looked into your eyes and you were mine.”
“What?” Confusion floods me. “But you…married my mother.”
“I married her so she’d have the benefit of my insurance. But she never had me, London. Not once. I’d never lay a fucking finger on her. There’s only you.” He advances on me further, but I take several steps back, unable to breathe, trying to get a handle on what he’s telling me. Trying to puzzle my way through. Is this real? Or a dream? “We had an understanding, she and I. She gets medical coverage and some money to occupy her…and I get to be the one who welcomes you home. Feeds you and puts a roof over your head. She wasn’t supposed to come back so soon. Not before you and I had trust between us. Not before I could explain—and I was planning on telling you everything tonight.”
Rain is dripping unchecked down my face now. I’m in too much shock to wipe it away. Since yesterday, I’ve been living in an alternate reality. None of my beliefs were based in fact. “Did she know you would…sleep with me?”
“We never said it out loud,” he says hoarsely.
“But it was understood.”
His throat works with a swallow. “I suppose so. It was very hard to keep my feelings hidden. And eventually, one of the administrators called her and she discovered by accident that I’d been…”
“What?”
“Going to watch you. On the surveillance cameras at the facility.” He wets his lips and I can’t subdue a flare of excitement at the sight. “Every day. Sometimes more than once. I abused my badge as badly as I abused my cock…and I couldn’t help it. Being without you turned me hollow. I walked around starved for months, just waiting for your release. Counting the seconds.”
Oh my God.
I should be screaming. Running.
Sprinting as far and fast as I can. For a very different reason than the first time I ran tonight. This man, Brody, my stepfather, has been stalking me. He coordinated our meeting, our living situation, everything. He planned on making me his before I ever knew who he was.
Watched me when I was unaware.
That is terrifying.
At least…it should be.
Why is there a coil of heat in my tummy? Pleasurable goose bumps on my arms?
Why am I relieved? It’s as though I’ve been wrapped in a blanket fresh from the dryer.
There has to be something wrong with me.
“I will make her leave again.” He comes toward me with measured steps, eyes steady and watchful and dark. “And you’ll sleep in my bed tonight.”
“I can’t,” I whisper, retreating. Can I?
A touch of madness flares in his expression. “You will.”
Wetness spreads between my legs, despite my mind telling me this is wrong. My body is disagreeing, insisting that being with Brody is right. That it’s okay to feel relief and happiness that he’s wanted me all along. Even obsessed over me. Stalked me. For once, something in my life was planned and not another mishap or kick in the rear from fate. This man is offering me a home—himself—and it’s a home I want to live in. Desperately.
Gravity seems to stop me in my tracks, allowing my stepfather to reach me, hauling me up against his chest, pulling me onto my toes and groaning into the crook of my neck. “The way I want and need you isn’t natural, I know that. It’s fucked up. But it’s real and it will never, ever go away. I’m permanent. I’ll never move a fucking inch, London. Just give in to it.”
My neck falls back as if a string has been cut. “I want to, but…”
He holds his head. “But what?”
“You’re married to someone else.”
“Ah, London.” His hand slides up the back of my skirt to massage my backside. “I needed a way to get close. And I needed to be as close as possible. My obsession with you doesn’t allow for anything less than the same house.” His fingers bite hard into my flesh. “I want to devour you, do you fucking get it?”
More and more heat swamps me, a current carrying away my reservations. What feels right is obvious. It’s this man. It’s his devotion…and yes, even his obsession. It’s calling forth my own and making it expand, whispering, you will be obsessed with him, too. Maybe you already are. “Yes. I get it.”
His exhale of relief stirs my hair. “You will be my wife. Now that I don’t have to hide this goddamn sickness, now that I can set it loose, there’s no need to pretend anymore just to get close. I’ll have a ring on your finger…” His teeth close around my earlobe and bite down. “And a baby in that little belly of yours so fast, your head will spin.”
“Your wife…” I breathe, the permanence of that stealing my breath. Filling something inside me that has been empty my whole life. “Yes, I want that.”
“You’re going to get it. Wrap your legs around my waist, baby. Don’t you know I’m gutted over seeing you cry?” He unzips and a second later, his shaft prods me between the thighs, hard and thick and ready. “Have to fuck, little girl. Have to orgasm you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, clinging to him, wrapping around his big body like ivy. “Please.”
His steel fills me in one thrust and I scream into his shoulders, my knees jerking where they rest on his hips. “London Allen, I’m in love with you,” he says hoarsely against my ear. “I’ll never spend a day apart from you for the rest of my life, so help me God.”
Pleasure spears up inside of me and washes me clean, washes away every doubt in my mind, until there is nothing but a future with this man. And I can’t wait to live it.
Epilogue
Brody
Five years later
I grip my wife’s hips and ride her pussy hard from the back, watching her eyes start to go blind in the mirror over the bathroom sink. Her ass cheeks shake with the force of my thrusts, her legs struggling to keep her upright under the onslaught of my lust.
Goddamn, she is so fucking hot, it pisses me off. And I don’t bother to hide the irritation from my expression when we lock eyes. I let her know exactly what I think about her red high heels and leather skirt. At the sight of my annoyance, her painted lips curve up at both ends.
Baring my teeth at her, I wrap her long blonde hair around my fist and roughen my drives, making her moan loudly. “Do you actually have the nerve to smile at me after strutting out of the bedroom and making my cock stiff?” I draw her head back until her entire throat is exposed. “I think you’re starting to enjoy your spankings too much, London.”
I don’t think, actually. I know.
Today is a huge day for London. She’s helping cut the ribbon on the first roller coaster she helped design. After graduating from engineering school early and interning with one of the best designers in the state, she’s put her mark on the first of many projects. And it happens to be at the park where we made love for the very first time. Which might explain why she named the roller coaster Conquered and gave it a romantic theme, complete with mist and red lighting.
London entering the workforce and fulfilling
her dreams has been incredible. Watching her grow in confidence only makes me love her more, which I didn’t think was possible.
But her working around a lot of men—never mind that they’re mostly of the nerdy variety—has led to a lot of in-office spankings for my wife. I like to show up when she least expects me and calmly close the door to her office. Then push her face down over her desk, ruck up her skirt and slap her gorgeous behind until she’s wet enough to fuck.
Unfortunately, (or fortunately), London hasn’t completely lost her rebellious streak and can’t seem to stop dressing in a manner meant to tease. To incite me.
As she’s done this morning.
I don’t realize I’m grunting loudly in time with my thrusts until she glances back at me over her shoulder, her face flushed, eyes glassy. “Don’t forget, the b-boys are downstairs with Betty.”
Yes. Our sons.
Although it wouldn’t be the first time they overheard me and their mother going at it. Nor would it be the first time our nanny overhears. She’s walked in on us rutting like animals more times than I can count. Poor London can barely look the woman in the eye.
It can’t be helped.
Over the last five years, my obsession for London has turned nearly unmanageable. She is on my mind every split second of the day. My desk drawers are now overflowing with items that belong to her. Scarves, photographs, and yes, panties, just so I can feel near her when I’m working. We’ve renewed our vows every year for the last four and I’m already considering making it a twice yearly event. Just to calm the beast inside me, reminding it that London is mine and she’s not going anywhere. Obsession doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Five years ago, when London ran from me and I gave chase, bringing her home in my arms, her mother was nowhere to be found. I think when she saw the fear and devastation in my eyes when London ran away, she knew I would allow no interference. That what I have with her daughter was bigger than anything she could understand—and it wouldn’t be wise to disturb the waters. When I sent her the divorce papers the following week, they returned signed without a problem, and now London only receives birthday cards.
I asked her once if she was still sad about her lack of a relationship with the woman and she only shook her head. There’s no room for sadness when happiness is taking up all the space. My heart still hammers in my chest when I think about London saying those words.
There’s another throb hammering right now, too, concentrated between my legs. I’m squeezing in and out of her tight, wet pussy and she’s doing that goddamn thing she does. Where she pulses her inner walls around my cock and looks me in the eye, her expression one of pure innocence in the mirror.
“Am I being a good girl, Daddy?”
I heave a groan, pounding into her all the harder, the slaps of our connecting flesh filling the bathroom. “You’re always so good. Always so good for me.”
She drops her voice to a whisper, as if we’re sharing a secret. “Can you make me pregnant again?” She scoots her high heels wider and tilts her hips, so I can see where my cock disappears into her body. “I miss you coming all over my pregnant belly, Daddy. Please?”
My balls start to erupt, but I clamp down on my lust, clenching my teeth to stop from busting too early. She does it every time. Every single time, the fucking goddess.
Holding onto my last ounce of control, I reach around the front of her body, dipping my fingers between her legs and petting her swollen clit, listening to her sob brokenly at the slippery friction. And I know exactly what’s going to push her over the edge. In the last five years, London hasn’t merely embraced or accepted my violent preoccupation with her. She’s become addicted to it. She craves the proof of my madness when it comes to her. So I press my mouth to her ear now and say quietly, “You’re already pregnant, baby. I tracked you to the doctor a week ago. And they know better than to keep anything from me about my wife.”
Her gasp is unmistakably excited, her affection reflecting in the mirror, along with her stark need. “I was going to surprise you tonight when we were celebrating.”
“You should know by now that there are no surprises between us,” I say, my middle finger moving in a blur on her clit until she screams. “I know everything about you. I love and worship every single part.”
“I love and worship you, too,” she gasps, deep in the throes, pushing me to a blistering peak. And later that night, when she cuts the ribbon on her very first roller coaster, I discreetly massage her stinging backside through her leather skirt, earning me a look of adoration, which I return, and will return for the rest of our lives.
THE END
Want more Jessa Kane?
MY HUSBAND, MY STALKER is out now!
I saw her on the news one night and everything changed.
Including me.
She wants normal?
I’ll give her that, even if I have to pretend.
I’ll become the paper pushing insurance salesman next door and earn her trust.
Make her my wife.
She’ll never find out she’s married to a hit man.
She’ll never know I spend my days following her.
Watching and listening.
Obsessing over her happiness to the point of madness.
She’ll never find out.
Or will she?
Get it here: https://bit.ly/2UeqGj6
