Page 48 of Wanting What’s Wrong

She’s mine. During those first years, I told myself it was an obligation. Paternal instinct. Fuck, I’ve never had a paternal instinct in my life.

Until Lennie.

She awoke instincts hidden for millennia in my DNA. I’m a fucking caveman, possessive, sick, twisted guardian to my stepdaughter.

I did whatever it took to keep it under control.

I worked out until I damn near killed myself.

I punched walls .

I threw any fucking asshole that gave her a second look onto his ass.

I fucking meditated, for Christ's sake. I even considered therapy.

I gave up jerking off until she was eighteen because I knew, as soon as I got my hand on my dick, it would be Lennie I’d think of, and I was going to keep my shit straight when it came to her.

Then, she was legal and I lost my motherfucking mind. What made it worse was I could see how she looked to me for comfort. For care. And I gave her that in my own way. But I had to keep my distance. I was a bomb ready to explode and take her out with me.

“You better be careful.” Davis breaks me from my trance. “I see you…”

He‘s still talking, but I can’t focus because Lennie is gone again. Davis is going on about our new Century City real estate development deal, which will damn near double our net worth if I nail down the contract next week.

My mind is full of Lennie, and my fucking cock is so hard it’s about to rip through my black slacks.

I have a permanent imprint of every zipper in every pair of pants I own up the bottom side of my dick.

I’ve already jerked off to my newest video of Lennie taken this morning as she took a morning swim, wearing her usual yellow one-piece covered by one of my oversized t-shirts and a pair of swim shorts.

I love how conservative she is about showing her body, but fuck all, I need to see it. Touch it. Taste it. Lick every drop of honeydew from that cherry pussy and tell the world to go to hell.

“Where you going?” Davis asks, holding up his phone, “Dalton Henry just texted. He’s here. We want to get him nailed down. He’s shopping agents…”

“Everyone is shopping agents tonight.” I snuff out my cigar in my ice water and head toward the glass stairway leading up to where I saw Lennie in a flash a minute ago.

“She’s fine —” he starts, but I cut him off with a glare.

“That’s for me to decide,” I bark, the tension in my temples radiating down the back of my skull bursting into knots down my shoulders and into my lower back.

I’ve always kept tabs on her. Whether she’s in my home, with my bodyguards, or with Davis, this is the first time I’ve not had eyes on her outside of my home, and it’s not right.

Something is not right.

Then, there she is. She’s on the landing to my left, and Ryan-fucking-Nolan, little fucking baby bitch it-boy of the moment, is handing her a glass of champagne.

Lennie doesn’t drink.

He’s filthy just like his family. I know his mother.

I was her agent for a hot minute a decade ago but she was too fucking messy for me.

Evil too. She’s mean for sport and when I dumped her ass in the middle of a contract negotiation for a starring role in what she thought would be her shot at some real recognition, she did her best to bad mouth me to anyone that would listen.

Luckily, no one did. She’s had a special sort of hate for me ever since, but she’s got no teeth. She can’t hurt me. But, her fucking son is with the most important thing in the world to me right now, and if he so much as brushes against her, I’ll tear his lungs out through his fucking asshole.

Lennie smiles, and my fingers curl into fists. She giggles at something he says, her tits jiggle, more beautiful than any woman here, and for a second, a micro-second, I consider that she deserves a happy life.

She deserves to meet someone her age, someone appropriate, and someone that is not her father, for all intents and purposes.

Fuck.

That.

That’s not going to happen. I rock back on my heels, taking a centering breath like Malasia, the yogi I hired to help Lennie with her OCD and ADHD, taught me.

Doesn’t help. It never helps. Not when it comes to my babygirl.

My. Babygirl.

Fuck yes.

My poor dick has waited so long, as well as my heart. My eyes travel up the stairs as I grab the railing. Coming down is the group of wannabes who were sizing me up at the table a few minutes ago.

The one in a bright yellow mini dress sucks on a straw, eyes lighting up. Pupils huge. She’s high as fuck. Snorting Adderall is the newest thing and this whole group looks as fucking tweaked as they come. Two others catch my eye, and there’s a whisper in slow motion.

Lennie sees me, shoots me a quick smile on a little happy bounce with a two-finger wave, then…

Yellow dress’s arms loop around my neck, gloss-slicked lips pressing into mine as my gag reflex kicks in hard.

The others surround me at the base of the stairs, the girl on my face pushing her tongue forward as her hand slips down and takes a handful of the hard-on I’m sporting with Lennie’s name written all over it.

I’ve never hit a girl. A woman. Female of any age, shape or color.

But, fuck, this is fucking assault. I’ve never taken a handful of ass or anything that wasn’t offered. Over the last ten years since I started my agency, where sex is currency, I’ve not touched anyone . Work was my life, but in all that time, I’ve never had to deal with this shit.

Women have always had my support and admiration but now knowing they deal with this all the fucking time? Tenfold.

The flicker cheer in Lennie’s wide eyes fades. She’s watching, her face twisting into that ‘I’m going to cry’ look I know too well, as Ryan Nolan smiles my way.

The group of females closes in, laughing, pushing, and grabbing for a piece themselves.

I fling them off, spitting on the floor, my mouth defiled. Yellow dress stumbles back into her crew, who gasp and stare. Cameras are up and recording, but I don’t give a shit.

They curse and shove at me as I take the stairs two at a time, but Lennie is gone.

I barrel around the curve at the top of the stairs. Nothing.

I stomp down one hallway, opening doors, seeing all the glory of what goes on at these events, and my heart speeds, knowing she’s here somewhere. Without me. Without the protection I provide in person or with the bodyguards I attach to her whenever she’s out of my sight.

“Lennie!” I bellow, drawing looks, phones raised all around recording. Everything is a fucking event these days and no publicity is bad. At least, that’s what I tell my agents, but it’s not true.

Another hallway, glass walls with curtains veiling drug-fueled orgies, and my panic pushes into the red. If anyone has touched her or harmed her…

Ten minutes later, I’m on the last hallway in this monstrosity of a home, banging on doors, when I hear it.

I’d know that chirping sound anywhere. Like a beacon in a dark sky, it’s Lennie’s voice. It’s not a scream, but it’s one of her noises that tells me, something is not right.

“No, I mean yes, I—” she says as I barrel through the door without a knock. She’s mine and where she goes, I go, no quarter.

What greets me buckles my fucking knees.

A glass of champagne is spilled on the table. Ryan Nolan’s arm is around her shoulders, her blue shirt torn with the black ribbon discarded on the white carpet .

And his hand, his fucking hand…

From there, it’s fists and the sound of bones breaking.

His scream echoes through the mansion when I smash his head against the wall.

He drops to the floor in a ball, saliva, and blood dripping from his gaping lips as I break every finger in that hand that was touching Lennie with a snap, crackle and pop.

“ Stop! ” Her voice stalls me for a breath as Ryan’s bloodied face turns the carpet red. “ Don’t! You have to stop, or they’ll take you away from me!” She taps her fingers on the sides of her head, her wide gray eyes narrow with fear.

Take you away from me.

The room fills with muscle as I instinctively grab a random thumb drive lying on the floor and brush myself down.

Ryan must have dropped it. It’s probably nothing, but I slip it into my pocket anyway since nobody else seems to have noticed.

Both my security guys and ten others that belong to the host, or who the fuck knows, drag me back, but my only focus is her.

There are other strangers in the room, phones raised, when I shove through everyone, covering Lennie with my body and hauling her ass into the bathroom across the hall as I listen to Ryan Nolan puking behind us.

“Baby.” I close the door, turning to hold her face in my palms. The blood rushing through my ears is a roaring river of rage. Her warm, soft skin in my hands lights up my heart and my soul. “Are you okay?”

Her shirt is open, four buttons gone, her bra pushed below her billowing tits. And fuck , forgive me, but the starting pistol has fired, and I know there’s no going back.

Her eyes link to mine. She knows I’m looking, and she does nothing to cover herself. Instead, she leans forward, presses her cheek to where my heart is beating like a drum against my ribs, and slips her arms around my waist.

“I was trying to sign him. I knew him from before, a long time ago. I saw him at that Homeless Benefit last week. He said he needed a new agent and would meet me here tonight to talk about it.”

Little fucker. He doesn’t need a new agent. He’s a little monster born from bigger monsters. I know them all.

“It’s okay, baby. But I told you, this world is fucking dangerous. That’s why you don’t go anywhere without Davis or me or with a guard.”

“I’m sorry. I thought with so many people around… it would be okay. And I wanted to surprise you. Do something right, for once.” She lifts her arms defensively in front of her bare tits. “I know I suck at my job, but I want to do well. I want to be the best agent you’ve ever had.”

“You are,” I fucking lie, but her feelings trump the truth any day.

“I am not,” she counters on a squint. “Just hug me, Daddy,” she whispers, and my whole world changes. “Hug me please, I’m sorry.”

Fuck . If I die in the next ten seconds, and this is how I go… I’m okay with that.

But if this is the only time in my life I allow myself to touch her?

No. I’m not okay with that.

Her softness curves into me as I crush her against me from head to toe. Her body stiffens when she feels my erection, but I’m done hiding.

Something far worse could have happened in that room, and I would have surely killed that little entitled asshole. Instead, I have a second chance and fuck it all.

I’m taking it.

“I’ll hug you, baby, but Daddy’s going to want more than that.

” I tip her chin up with my fingers, then gather her ass in my hands, lifting her to sit on the counter behind us.

I turn on the water, washing my hands and my mouth while Lennie watches, perplexed, as I soap up my lips, mustache, and beard, then rinse and dry myself with a white towel rolled in a stack on the glass counter.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure I’m clean for you, baby.”

“Clean for me?” Her brow arches the way it does when she’s unsure. “You are the cleanest man I know. You always say you’re going to take a shower, like ten times a day.”

“Yes, baby. But I know you saw that unwelcome contact from those women on the stairs. I didn’t initiate that, and I won’t let it sully you.

You’ll be spending a lot of time on these lips, and no one else will touch them.

Ever. So, yes, I’ll hug you.” I shove my hips between her legs, place her hands around the back of my neck.

“But hugs and kisses go together, don’t they? ”

Her iridescent gray eyes sparkle as I see her working things out. Her ice-blonde hair is messy as usual, but every strand is perfection. She doesn’t pull back, but she’s stalled. Stuck in what seems wrong. But I’m going to take her all the way through wrong to what I’m feeling.

“Say it, baby. Hugs and kisses go together.”

I lick my bottom lip on a sniff, her peachy, creamy scent sending a spurt of cum from the head of my cock.

“Hugs and kisses go together,” she hisses, her bee-sting plump red lips making me fucking ache .

“Good girl,” I grunt, thrusting into the softness of her spread legs. The heat there makes me grind against her. Up and down, pulling her ass forward, pressing my lips onto hers, tasting that cherry sweetness… and I’m gone.

Her fingers tug at the back of my neck, my need tearing through me like a jagged blade. I’m humping against her, with her bare tits against my chest. When she slips her tongue into my mouth, I hate myself, but it’s too late.

I go full-on beast mode. Rutting against her, kissing her, shoving my tongue down her throat.

Humping into my stepdaughter like a rabid animal.

Imagining my dick slipping deep into that untouched hole, barreling forward as my sticky, seed-filled cum laps at her cervix, all my sperm soldiers on the offensive charging forward in search of that egg to fertilize and breed my babygirl.

The vision of bareback fucking into her cherry tightness has my release erupting from my balls.

I cum in a blast of heat and guilt as I swallow Lennie’s scream in our kiss, my instinct taking over, and I use her body as my dry humping fuck toy, the load of hot cum lashing against the inside of my pants, soaking through into her heat.

When I pull back, shame chills me. Her eyes are wide, lips falling open, words hanging between us, but the hint of fear and surprise on her face only makes me want her more. This more. Us more.

“I—I—” she stutters as my pulse pounds in my ears. She’s never looked at me like this before. Like something’s gone.

Trust?

Sure, asshole, you just relieved yourself against her like an out of control fourteen year old boy in a fucking bathroom.

I’m gutted that my lack of control could have marred this moment. I hold my breath, the buzz of my climax still lingering as I slip my jacket off and put it on her tiny body.

Then, there’s a knock at the door.

“You okay?” It’s Davis. “Mark and Stephen are here. They’ll walk you out. It’s already out on the socials, man; you should get Lennie out of here.”

“Let’s go home.” I gather Lennie against me, unsure what’s waiting for us on the other side of that door, but knowing, whatever it is, I’ll be the wall between her and everything life throws at us.

For the rest of our lives.