Page 85 of Wanting What’s Wrong
Three
Jenna
I can’t think. I can barely breathe.
He’s still on his knees, still latched onto my breast like it’s the first and last drink he’ll ever take, and I’m drowning in the sound of it. His groans. The wet pull. The obscene, suckling rhythm that has every nerve ending in my body screaming.
My thighs rub together, desperate and slick. I should be ashamed. I should stop this.
But I don’t move.
Because I want more.
“Cal,” I breathe, the word coming out with a whimper. A plea.
He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing my nipple, swollen and glistening with milk. “You taste like heaven, baby.”
He says it like he means it. Like he’s high on me. Like he’d die if this suddenly went away.
His eyes are wild when they meet mine. Dark and possessive and starved.
“You keep leaking like this,” he rasps, “and I’m not gonna let you leave the house. Gonna tie you to the bed. I’ll be the one pumping something inside you, instead of that thing taking what’s now mine.”
Oh my God.
Heat surges through me, pooling low in my belly. My nipples pulse harder, milk drenching the shoulder of his shirt as he keeps milking my breast like a seasoned pro.
“Fuck. Look at you. Full of cream and making a fucking mess of those panties too, aren’t you?”
I nod. All shame is gone, replaced by all the lust I’ve been holding back since that first time Mom walked into the house with her new shiny husband in tow.
Shame cloaked me for those months he was with us. I teased him. Refused to listen to him. Desperate to hide the feelings I knew were wrong.
Every night when he would disappear into the bedroom, I would cry. Sob into my pillow, kick at the mattress thinking of what he was doing with my mother behind that door.
Things I wanted him to do to me. I wanted his cock inside me. I wanted to grab onto his shoulders while he pumped me full of him.
Except, apparently, he wasn’t doing those things with her either.
Now, here he is, my desperate, shameful secret exposed, with his mouth on my breast.
“I think about it,” I whisper my sinful confession. “When I pump, I think about your mouth. Your hands. What it’d feel like if you made me come while I fed you.”
His breath punches out of him. His hand is on my thigh now, slowly stroking, rough fingers on my soft flesh .
“I shouldn’t,” he mutters around his full mouth, then moves to the other side. “You’re too young. My fucking step-daughter.”
“I’m yours. I have been, I just never wanted you to know.”
The declaration slips out, but I don’t take it back. It’s honest. Brutal, but true.
His fingers flex against my thigh, drawing just a little stab of pain that makes me sit up straighter. “Say that again.”
“I’m yours. Your step-daughter, or whatever else you want me to be.”
He drops my nipple, his slick milky lips crashing onto mine. The kiss is hot and demanding and messy. Milk sweetens our kiss, coats our tongues, blends with the groan he rips from my throat.
He slaps my knees apart, shoving his hand between my thighs, pressing through my shorts, and I grind down on it without thinking, shameless and soaked.
“You ever touch yourself, baby?” he pants when he finally pulls back.
I nod, breathless.
“Thinking about me?”
“Yes. Always.”
He kisses me again, rough and deep. His thick, entitled tongue taking over my mouth and just when I think I can’t take another blissful second, he breaks away.
“Next time you do, you’ll be calling for me. You’ll yell for Daddy when you come. Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I answer as smooth as honey into tea.
His whole body jerks, but before we can go further, the faint sound of Granny’s voice seeps through the door. “Cal. Need your help out here.”
Cal’s chest rises and falls. He looks wrecked.
“We’re not done,” he growls. “Not even close.”
Then he cups my dripping breast, leans in, and takes one last slow, possessive suck .
“I took the edge off, but I’m already addicted. All that milk is mine now. You save it for me. You feed me when I tell you to. If I say get your tits out, you do it, understand?”
I tremble on a weak nod.
“Good girl. You make milk for me now. Only fucking me. Now, put yourself back together,” he barks, before leaning down and grabbing my face, forcing my lips to pucker like a fish as he presses his to mine.
The kiss is softer this time, his warm, milky tongue working over mine as he lets out a rumbling groan, then releases me to sit here panting. He stands, putting his hat back on, and I see the distinct outline of a cock as big as my forearm pressing out on the denim in front of me.
“Just came in my fucking pants, baby. Guess the work day is gonna be short. I’ll take care of what Granny needs, tell her I need to get you home, you’re not feeling right. Then, I’m gonna fuck that teasing little cunt of yours once and for all. I’m done playing and you’re done teasing.”
He leaves me there, half-dressed and ruined.
My step-father is going to be my first. And, I’m pretty sure, my only.