Page 1 of Step-Crush (Wanting What's Wrong)

WHEN…

CHAPTER1

Ramses

With a name like Ramses Maurizio Alexander Moreno, IV, there were two ways I could go.

Become a philosopher or a madman.

I became both.

In that I have a philosophy and I’ve been called crazy more times than I can count.

Then, I mether, and I became something else.

Obsessed.

The A/C inside my car kicks into high gear with the early afternoon Tahoe sun beating down on the black exterior of my Bentley. Sitting in the back seat is proof of my madness. A new high-intensity UV light I bought after burning out the first one on those Yaz fucking pills she takes.

I bake them under the light until they are inert, then swap them for the ones she keeps in her medicine cabinet whenever I come and go from her house unannounced and unnoticed.

But after months of sabotaging her hormones, all that is over. I’ll be throwing that light into the next available dumpster. She’s pushed me to the edge this time and I’m done waiting.

My dick, in its incessantly-needy state, throbs behind my zipper reminding me of how fucking neglected it is.

If it wasn’t for my hand, I might as well cut the fucker off because since Bijou came into my life, no other women had a chance.

But at first she was full-throttle off limits.

I’m a man of singular purpose when I want something. Patience is not my virtue. But for her, I’ve waited. Told myself this once, I could not have what I wanted. She deserved better.

She deserved alife. One with picket fences and minivans. One without the worry of retaliation and a husband who kills like other men mow the lawn. It’s just something that needs doing sometimes.

She would have weekends with the girls, drink too much wine, pretending suburbia was what she wanted. Not a beast of a husband who bangs her ass up against the wall when she gets out of line, shoving my fingers down her throat as she tries to scream like I murdered her family.

A man who soothes her with his cock in her sassy little mouth until she falls asleep with a new attitude.

But my little stepdaughter won’t be getting the minivan and macchiato life because she crossed the fucking line.

She talked to the wrong person. And now it’s time she learned I’m always watching. Always listening. Waiting for the moment when my control snaps and I do the unthinkable.

To her.

With her.

For her.

That moment is now, as I watch her dancing around the house I bought forourfamily when I married her mother years ago. Bijou was a girl then, and I silently swore to protect her forever. But as the years passed, I promised myself other things.

Things a stepfather shouldn’t promise.

I never touched her mother. Marrying her was a favor I never thought would be called in. But when it was, I answered. Because under all the darkness and violence, I am a man of honor.

I live by a code, even if it is my own.

My all-consuming obsession has brought me here, rubbing my concrete hard erection as I sit behind the wheel of my blacked-out armored Bentley. High-resolution binoculars press into my eye sockets as my heart thunders in my chest, knowing that by the end of the day, she will understand her role from this day forward.

Mine.

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