Page 52 of Wanting What’s Wrong

Unlike me, she’s not attached to her phone.

More often than not, I have to remind her to keep it with her but she still forgets.

I’ve been planning some other way to keep tabs on her.

A bracelet or necklace with some tracking device inside but she hates jewelry.

She says it burns her skin, which, true or not, precludes me from forcing it upon her.

She’s come down to the living room less and less these last months, and I’m sure it’s because of my vibe; I’ve been fucking manic when it comes to her.

I work my way around in the dim light from the Tiffany lamp on the end table and lower myself into the spot where she usually sits, comforted and fucking turned on by sitting in her place, wondering if she’s ever sat here with a bare ass.

Maybe her bare pussy with those little blonde curls brushing against the fabric.

I pull her blanket to my face, drawing a long breath of her cherry and cream scent.

Knowing this blanket has touched her everywhere.

She holds it to her mouth when she’s watching a scary movie and wraps herself in it whenever she sits here.

It covers her when she sleeps and gives her the soft comfort she’s been missing.

My balls draw up into my gut thinking about it.

Wondering how it will feel when I sink into that tightness, hold myself steady and shoot my seed against her ripe, unprotected womb.

I let my head fall back, the ache in my cock doubling as I breathe through the cashmere, knowing I should get to the office.

Deal with the situation there. But I want to be right here.

With her in her bed and me, covered in shame for how I feel about my stepdaughter. Not to mention, my employee.

“Cade?” I bolt to my feet at the sound of her voice, her blanket still clutched in my fists. “I forgot my blanket.”

She’s standing a few feet away in the dim light and I see her in a way I haven’t before.

Yes, she’s my Lennie, the little girl I vowed to care for and raise as my own, but it’s so much more.

She’s in my t-shirt, my boxers and her nipples press out on the fabric as think of her belly full of me.

Naked and on her knees as I fight back my own begging for her to give me relief.

I want her pregnant and sucking my cock.

Tits swollen, a hint of milk on her nipples.

The vision has haunted me for longer than I would admit.

A bow in her hair, red lipstick smeared across her pink cheeks, solid gold plug in her ass with the word Daddy’s Girl written across her tits. All of this represents one thing.

She belongs to me.

She is mine. My property, my baby, my slut, my dream, my princess and my most precious possession.

The murderous jealousy that engulfed me when I saw Ryan Nolan with his hands on her bubbles up from my core to pound against my sternum.

The sort of violence she inspires in me hasn’t surfaced since my youth.

I’ve worked hard to channel that rebellious, counter-culture energy into work.

Once I saw the power of my position, my wealth, I knew losing control would only serve to erode what I was trying to build.

But from that first moment when those paparazzi put her in danger at Disney-fucking-Land, the old Cade was ripe and ready to fight. A war, if necessary. And with what happened last night and the blowback that’s all over the inter-webs by now, war is what has come to pass.

“I would have brought it to you. I love how it smells. Always makes me think of you.”

She tiptoes around the couch as I hold the soft fabric out, then, in a moment of clarity, I draw it back. The dark, wonderful fantasies that have plagued me take root into my soul, and I pat the seat on the sofa as I sit back down.

“Sit,” I order, pointing to the cushion next to me. “Now,” I add with a rumble in my chest as the conflict between the promises I’ve made and the needs I have go to war.

She stills for a moment, her eyes glassy, her blonde hair messy around her pink cheeks. Then she swallows, and I wonder how that would feel around the head of my cock.

“Are we … going to watch a movie?” she asks, the quiver in her voice telling me she knows that’s not what’s happening here.

“Is that what you want to do? Snuggle in next to Daddy and watch a movie under the blanket together?”

How I’ve made it this long without deep-dicking her and making her mine I don’t know. She’s so sweet and so fuckable; it’s taken a force of will I didn’t know I had to hold off this long, but I’m not going to make it much longer.

I need her.

The raw breeding monster inside of me is clawing his way out; right or wrong, this Daddy is taking his little one tonight. From our interaction in the limo, she’s all in. Sure, she ran off at the end, but it’s a lot. She needed to decompress, but she’s back, and I’m all in.

“Yes, that would be nice. I can’t sleep. ”

“Sit.” I nod to the spot next to me as I grab the remote and click on the TV, playing what I know is her favorite comfort movie, Hairspray.

The one with John Travolta and Christopher Walken.

Both nice guys. I got Lennie a signed Hairspray movie poster for her birthday last year.

“I’ll give you what you want, Lennie, baby, just like always.

But now, things are going to be different. ”

“Different, how?” Her bright silver-gray eyes are locked on mine, the sweetness that’s dripped into my soul for years needs to be made dirty, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

“You’re a good girl.” I put down the remote as Good Morning Baltimore starts to play, then reach over and grab her face, her mouth in a squished little O shape, eyes wide in surprise.

“But good girls need discipline. They need to be guided. Need to do as they are told. They need to be taught how to be what Daddy needs.”

My sixth sense about what we will be kicks in hard.

I’ll give her all the softness someday, but right now, she needs me to tell her what to do.

Showing her that following my orders and pleasing me will give her purpose.

To give her safe boundaries and secure footing.

From there, she will blossom into everything I’ve dreamed of and everything she needs.

It’s what will make her always safe and secure with me.

“What do you need?” she mutters through her squished lips and watching her struggle to ask that question feeds the viper, ready to strike inside me.

“I need you to put your head here on my shoulder. Sit cross-legged.” I want to control every detail, and I’m powerless to stop what’s about to happen. “Hands under the blanket in your lap.”

She moves slowly next to me, doing as I ask. I drape the blanket over us and pet her head. When she looks up at me with anticipation, I lean down and take her lips, listening to her soft moan while her body quivers against me.

“Horny little girl,” I whisper into her hair. “Just watch the movie and remember, we have to be quiet. Whatever happens, it’s special. Just between us.”

Her glazed eyes fix on the characters on the screen. The light, happy music playing makes the moment more surreal.

“Did you like how I made you feel in the limo?” I ask, brushing her cheek with my fingers.

She nods, eyes straight ahead.

“You liked when I played down between your legs. Made you all wet and wiggly until you had that special feeling?”

Another nod, that’s what I want—her agreement, her buy-in.

“Good. I want you to feel good. And baby girl, you’re going to learn how to make me feel good in many ways.

Have you ever thought about touching me?

What I feel like down here?” I guide her hand to my lap, pressing her palm over the stiff shaft as her breath stalls, then a little gasp as I move her hand over my erection, up and down.

“Cade,” she stutters, eyes flickering shut, chin to her chest.

“Ahhh , that’s something else. I’m not Cade, am I? Who am I? Who have I been raising you? Providing for you? What do you call me when you want to tease me?”

“Daddy,” she hisses, eyes flicking to mine, pupils wide, then back to the screen as I rub her hand up and down.

“That’s right. You’re a little fucking tease sometimes, little Lennie-bird. Calling me Daddy and knowing what it did to me, then not taking care of what you started. That’s a naughty girl. You live here. It’s my rules under my roof.”

“Yes,” she exhales on a shiver, and I know my instincts are right. She wants it dirty. Nasty. Right and wrong all blending together into a heady need neither of us will deny any longer.

“Now, take Daddy out of his pants.” I shift my hips, sliding lower and giving her better access to my zipper.

Her fingers fumble and tremble as she works the button and zipper. I’m commando, so as soon as the last zipper-teeth release, the head of my cock pops up, tenting the blanket. I release a long sigh, putting one arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“Now, touch me,” I growl into her ear, her body warm as her fingers barely brush the center of my shaft, nearly sending me into an immediate violent climax. Her tentative touch turns into a bolder grip. One hand, then two, and Jesus, it’s heaven.

I arch my neck and rake my teeth up her neck as she chokes back a sobbing sound.

“Daddy…” Her voice is barely audible as her hands explore my inches.

“Touch Daddy.” Logical thought evaporates as I sink my teeth into the nape of her neck.

She yelps, but I reach over and clap my other hand over her mouth, hissing into her ear. “Be quiet, baby. No one can know you’re touching me like this.”

Her head bobs up and down in agreement. I kiss her cheek and release her mouth, slipping my hand back under the blanket again and guiding her touch.