by Angel, Dark
"Right, I’m going to take my plate down. Find Daniel and sort out the money and then head to where the party’s happening."
"There’s nothing better than partying in the Big A. Get talking, get the money and then get packing. Then again, I could just book a ticket for you, so that you could just get packing?"
I want to tell her that I never unpacked in the first place, but I decide that I’ll leave that conversation for when we’re face to face.
"Nah, I couldn’t take money from you. Besides technically I don’t need it," I tell her before taking a deep breath. "Sandra, thanks, I really needed this," I miss her already and we’ve only been apart a day. Maybe she’s right; I’ve always thought of college as a place to work, rather than try and enjoy it. Thinking about being at college and having an issue like this would have sent me to her dorm. I wouldn’t have hesitated, but now she’s miles away and I’m with two men that want to kill each other.
"You should have called me earlier. I don’t know why you find it so difficult to say when you have an issue. That’s what friends are for."
"I know. Sorry, next time I’ll dial your number first."
"Good. Now, speak to your hot stepdaddy and tell me when you’re going to be hereso I can tidy up before you get here."
I know that she’s not going to tidy up. We’re both slobs. I’m just happy to hear a friendly voice and to know that I have a friend that cares. Sometimes I feel so alone; I always have, even when I was with Zach. I thought that Rachel was a friend and she ended up betraying me.
"Sure, will do. Catch you later."
"Bye."
I grab my plate and decide that no matter how much money Daniel wants he can have it. He wouldn’t be asking unless he was desperate and this house has so many painful memories that staying here is not an option. It makes me sad, and sad is something that I had not planned on being this summer. There’s a party waiting for me in New York. I want to go, Colt and Daniel can fight as many times they like, as long as I’m having a good time far away from here.
Daniel
I’m wandering around the house wanting to punch the fucking wall.
This is my fucking house. The house that I want to put for sale so that I can get some fucking money for the business that supports this goddamn family. I shouldn't feel this way, but all of a sudden, everything seems to have been turned upside down.
If the business were profitable right now, I wouldn’t have called both Colt and Karen to come and spend some time here to try and figure things out. They act as if it’s painful to be in their family home. So what’s the big deal in selling it?
Besides, this is the business that helped pay off the home loan when Linda was sick. The business that helped Clara when she went into rehab, the first and the second time. This is the business that pays for those vacations they want to get away to. For the college tuition. For the La Perla lingerie that Karen is probably wearing right now.
God, dear sweet Karen. Whether it’s anger or lust, or a combination of both, I just want to grab her and throw her on my knee and rip off those yoga pants and spank her. Rip that $500 lace thong off her ass and run my finger along her ass crack and make her fucking moan.
I hate the idea that both Karen and Colt are acting as if I’m some gold digger when that’s far from the truth. Especially when getting the funds doesn’t just mean a cash injection for the business, but that’s something that they don’t need to know about. I just need the house sold, the funds distributed, and then we can all get on with our lives.
I decide to go into the kitchen and look around. I should drink something. Something that will take away the pain that I’m feeling at the moment. It's a strange feeling being in this house with Colt and Karen again. They aren't children anymore. And I'm thinking of them in ways I never did in the past.
And not just Karen. I know how fucking gorgeous Karen is.
But why am I thinking about Colt?
Why does my cock get hard when he stands up to me? When he calls me selfish?
This is too fucking weird. I’m his fucking stepdad.
It’s one thing to be lusting after my stepdaughter. But my stepson too? This has got to be crossing some sort of line.
I look around the kitchen and catch sight of an amber-colored bottle. I realize it's my favorite scotch.
I take out the bottle of scotch and feel the weight of it in my hand. I look at the label and watch the overhead light pierce the amber liquid. Then, I grab a couple of blocks of ice, and dump them into a glass. Just as I finish pouring the scotch, Karen stumbles into the kitchen. She’s got her ear buds in; she's swinging her hips to music I can't hear and she doesn’t realize that I’m standing by the sink.
I watch her. Taking in her sight. Drinking in her beauty.
Those luscious curves.
Those mouth-watering hips.
She gives a start as she turns around and sees me watching her.
"Daniel, you scared me!" She nearly drops her plate as her arms fly up, so I quickly grab it from her.
"You went to eat in your room?"
Silly question, because the evidence is right in front of me.
"Yes, you and Colt were going at it, and I just didn’t want to get involved," she responds and I wince.
She takes back the plate and wipes it before putting it in the dishwasher. I watch her bend over, and the same feeling that came over me at the pool washes over me again. The one that I shouldn’t be feeling, the one I had when she was playing with Colt, when her lips curled in a smile and her tits jumped up and down. My cock jerked and I didn’t look at her as if she was my daughter; I felt like a jealous ex-lover looking at their ex move on with a new lover.
"Just tell me one thing," I ask.
Maybe I drank the scotch a bit too quickly because I can’t get my eyes off her ass.
Is it me or did she just lick her lips
"Anything you want…" she says, before her eyes travel my body. "Daddy."
All of a sudden blood rushes to my brain.
We’re playing a different game now.
This isn’t the innocent little girl that used to hide in the closet.
This is a courtesan of the 21st century.
I give her my undivided attention, "Sorry, I must've drank a bit too much. I just feel a bit disorientated. Maybe we can talk in the living room."
She hesitates in agreeing, "Where’s Colt?"
"Oh, he left a while ago. I’m not even sure if he’s coming back," I start to mumble as I feel guilty about Colt leaving and the fact that he feels that Linda’s memory means nothing to me. I loved his mom; he must know that. I was never the bad guy when it came to being a husband to Linda.
Karen doesn’t say anything, but turns around and then back again. "You better bring that bottle and two glasses with you."
Did she just say two? She doesn’t need to ask me twice. I'm trying not to stare at her body. I know that this conversation isn’t going to be an easy one; I just didn’t think that Colt would make it so difficult. Then again, I don’t blame him. He was right. I haven’t exactly been in touch and then here I was, expecting him to help me with the business just like that.
I sit down on the couch and put the bottle and the glasses on the table in front of us, within easy reach. I can’t believe that she wants to talk to me. Colt didn’t, and I had practically raised him from when he was young. Karen has only been living with us for a few years, and yet she’s showing more patience than Colt has shown up until now.
"Okay," she says as she takes the bottle and starts pouring the scotch as if she’s pouring a glass of water.
She passes me the glass and then knocks hers against it and says, "Cheers."
I’m about to object—to ask her if she knows what she's doing because this isn't a hard cider or whatever people her age normally drink, but I bite me tongue because it’s too late. She’s already coughing as she takes a huge sip of it.
I run to the kitchen and get her some water.
I even make it halfway there before I hear the sound of her sweet laugher.
Fuck.
I turn around to see her laughing at her joke at my expense. As I come back, she’s still giggling as she sits on the chair.
"I’m not so straight-laced anymore, Daddy," she tells me.
I relax, knowing that she was pulling my chain and marveling that Karen isn’t a little kid anymore. Of course she’s tasted scotch. I bet that she’s had a lot stronger in college, and here I am acting as if I need to protect her.
I sigh as I sit down, "I bet you think that’s funny. I was really worried about you. I thought that you were choking and anything could've happened."
She sighs, "That’s a bit dramatic."
"I’m still your father," I tell her and I immediately regret the situation I’ve set up. It’s able to be escalated so easily.
"Sorry, Daddy," she says, pouting at me. "Do you want to punish me?"
My cock has turned into 12 inches of lead in my pants.
But Karen has moved on.
She shakes her head, "I was kind of disappointed with what you had to say earlier … and let me finish."
She lifts up her glass and takes a sip, stopping me from interrupting her again. "It’s just that I’ve never understood why you stayed with mom. She was a mess. Promised to get better and then never did. She was full of lies."
I’m not sure what she’s getting at. I give her my full concentration, feeling good that the scotch is doing its job and making me feel lightheaded. I don’t want to deal with this conversation, because I know for a fact that Karen’s not going to like what I have to say.
"Clara was never in love with me," I blurt out. I know what she’s getting at, and I want to save her the heartache of thinking that this was anything other than what it was planned to be.
"Look you’re not a kid anymore." I look at her from head to toe wondering if she’s moved closer toward me, or if it’s all in my imagination. "I was lonely at first, my first wife died too young and I thought that your mom could take her place somehow. Then it was clear that your mom needed a husband as a namesake and I just fit the bill. I accepted that.It was good to have someone to go out with, instead of always being alone."
The truth was that I was more in love with Clara then she ever was with me, but I got over it in time. I allowed the business to satisfy my needs and I never felt disappointed about the path that she decided to take, especially when I found out how selfish she was deep down inside. I’m not going to tell her daughter the truth beneath it all; at the end of the day, she’s her mom. That has to count for something.
"So you’re not still in love with mom?"
She lifts an eyebrow, and then I realize that she’s nearly sitting on my lap. She’s taken the glass from my hand, and her blue eyes seem to be alight as she starts tracing her fingers along my arm.
"Are you single now?"
I should move away from her. Tell her to stop; my mouth’s saying one thing and my mind another. "Look, this isn’t the conversation that you should be having with your dad. Besides I moved on a long time ago…"
I don’t need to point that out to her. She’s nearly sitting on my lap, undoing my shirt and instead of moving, instead of telling her to stop, I’m just watching her undoing my buttons, purring, "I’m your daughter."
"Karen, seriously, I can’t even remember the last time I had sex, and this is…" before I can even finish, she’s put her finger to my lips.
"You know that you want me," her eyes dart down to my obvious erection. "Besides, Daddy, you’re acting like some kind of monk, when this body is far, far more suited to more than that."
"What do you know about what a monk’s body looks like?"
She licks her lips and then purrs, "I can tempt any man, monks or priests included, to the dark side, Daddy." I listen to her and my blood starts to boil and I start to see red.
The demon of lust has possessed my soul. And he’s done it through my stepdaughter.
"No one can say no to me," Karen says. Then she holds out her hand. I know where we’re going, and I should tell her that we’re going in the wrong direction. But I need something to make me feel better. To take away what I’m feeling right now and somehow Karen’s about to do that, and I don’t feel guilty. No, I just feel horny as she takes me to her room and closes the door.
She starts to slide her yoga pants down her hips, revealing a black thong, and my cock is growing harder by the second.
A memory flashes through my mind: earlier today, out by the pool, Colt’s hands were where mine are about to be right now.
Karen
Desire can be a powerful thing. It rises on your mind like morning fog and, before you know it, you’re lost and blind in the bland whiteness of it. No control, no sense of direction.
That’s me right now; I’m adrift in a sea of desire, and all rationality has deserted me. With my fingers on the hem of my pants, I push it down slowly, but I lower them just one inch, enough to flash him a glimpse of my skin. Do you want to know what I’m thinking? It’s simple: I’m not thinking of anything. I’m just like a puppet acting out the commands from some unseen hand.
"Are you just going to stare?" I purr at him, my pants now revealing a faint tan line, as my heart gallops inside my chest. As the words leave my lips, I close the distance between Daniel and I and, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pull him into me. He grins, delight and desire painting his face, and comes willingly. He rests his big hands on my waist and, the moment he leans into me and his lips touch mine, I close my eyes and let go.
"No going back now," he whispers, and all it takes is one kiss for me to know that this is going to be good. For a man as imposing as him, he’s actually more than a good kisser. I tilt my head to the side, pulling him closer and pressing my mouth harder against his. I part my lips and slip my tongue inside his mouth, a whirlwind of lust dancing inside my head.
I’m kissing my stepfather, this is really happening.
I exhale sharply as, still grabbing me by the waist, he pushes me back and pins me against the bedroom door. His fingers dart to my wrists and he lifts my arms up over my head.
"This is wrong," he says, his eyes filled with desire. "This is so wrong," he repeats, and I feel something hardening in his crotch and pushing against my leg. Yes, this is wrong. Very, very wrong… But so are the most delicious things in the world, aren’t they? And it’s this wrongness that makes boiling blood travel through my veins and raises hell between my thighs. My thong is drenched, my juices soaking it in a way that hasn’t happened for a long time… This is raw desire in its purest and most violent form.
"So wrong..." I whisper, throwing his words back at him as a grin of anticipation dawns on my lips.
I throw my head back, baring my neck to him, and he savors my skin with gentle kisses.I pant each time his lips touch me, that gentle fog of desire blanketing my mind. I get out of his hold with cat like movements, freeing my hands and taking them to his shirt, my frantic fingers popping button after button. I untuck his shirt then and, almost with a growl, I press the open palm of my hands on his pectorals, feeling the hard lines of his strong muscles under my fingertips. For a man his age, it’s almost hard to believe the kind of body he has.
Daniel presses his body against mine, the warmness of his skin sending a shiver down my spine, and then grabs a handful of hair on the nape of my neck. Holding my head, he presses his mouth against mine; fireworks go off behind my eyelids as we kiss savagely, our tongues dancing and fighting against each other with abandonment.
Still kissing me, he takes his hand and lets it slide down my side, then makes it climb up my inner thigh. I shudder as I feel his long fingers on my skin, my hips unconsciously bucking against him. He brushes one finger over my thong and across the hem of my slightly lowered pants, long flames of pleasure darting through my body as he does it; I rock my hips against him, trying to have him press his hand against my pussy. He doesn’t relent, though, taking his
time and slowly brushing his finger over the fabric of my thong and my aching pussy.
I started this and, now that he has taken control, he’s going to make sure we go all the way. No excuses.
"I’ve been dreaming of this for too long," he growls, the sound of it rising from the back of his throat, he grabs my shirt and pulls it over my head, forcing me to lift my arms. Then, moving fast, he sends my yoga pants down to my ankles and presses his hand against my pussy. He wastes no time and takes his fingers to my thighs; pulling on my thong, he sends it down my legs as well. I bite my lower lip as I feel the fabric sliding down, and I kick off my sneakers, doing the same with my pants and soaked underwear.
I exhale sharply, his fingertips caressing my drenched folds with a maddening gentleness. He keeps his own patient rhythm and slowly drives me to the edge with his touch. And, God, I just love it. Why rush into things?
Tracing the contour of my pussy with one single finger, he avoids touching my clit. I sway my hips, but he takes his other hand and holds me in place by the hips. Slowly parting my inner lips, he takes his finger all the way up my crevice, and only then does he brush his fingertip against my clitoris. And, God, the moment he does it… I almost lose it. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, surrendering to the sparks of electricity that fly inside my body as he gently rubs my clit.
Then, before I can even moan, he opens his hand and presses it hard between my thighs. I snap my legs shut by instinct, trapping his hand there as he flicks one finger against my folds. I open my mouth and sigh in frenzied delight as I feel his finger sliding inside of me; he takes it all the way, curling it upwards and pressing his fingertip against that hidden spot deep inside my pussy.He rubs me there, drowning my brain into pleasure. When he slides one more finger in, I can’t stop myself from moaning; I open my mouth and let a high-pitched cry of pleasure fall from my lips, my skin prickling as I do it.
