Page 12 of Stalker Stepbrother

Those dirty words send me over the edge. My lips part on unsteady inhales, something clenching and releasing in my core, thighs trembling around him.

When he stands, I can only stare at him in a daze, still coming down from that mind-blowing high. His mouth glistens, and he grins as he takes off his shirt and unzips his pants, letting both items fall to the floor. He’s standing with nothing but his tight boxers on, highlighting the shape and size of the tool between his thighs.

I…I don’t know if he’ll fit. I’m not even sure the head alone can slide into me without hurting.

“Eyes here, baby girl. You’ll get hurt once and only once because there’s no other way around it. If I could take the pain for you, I would.”

I nod. I’ve only met him a few days ago, but I know, deep down, that I can trust him, that he doesn’t say words without meaning them. “Yes, Daddy. I know.”

Daddy.

Oh god. Why did I say that? I wasn’t even thinking it!

Callum swallows hard, his eyes going a little hazy. When he speaks, there’s an undercurrent of something that goes beyond mere lust. “Say that again.”

“Daddy.”

“Scoot backward,” he commands, voice deep and gravelly with desire.

As I do, I trace his body with my eyes—the massive shoulders, sculpted muscles of his chest, thickly corded biceps, trim waist with washboard abs, monster thighs. I’m curvier than most girls, but beside him, I feel tiny and feminine.

With his hands on his waistband, he slides his boxers off and his dick juts proudly against his stomach. It frightens me just looking at it, but I have no time to think more because he hovers above me and takes my mouth in another kiss.

He opens my legs further until his rigid tool is positioned at my entrance. He feeds me inch after inch, watching me closely as I breathe in through the discomfort. It’s a tight fit…too tight in fact. The head alone is enough to make me bite my lips until I draw blood.

He lowers his head and licks the sensitive spot on my neck, making me arch my back from the various sensations flooding my body. He trails kisses down my body and takes one nipple into his mouth as his free hand squeezes the other. He does the same to my other breast.

And with one swift thrust, he sinks himself inside me, his hips flush against mine. The stinging pain shocks me speechless.

“You okay, baby girl?” he asks. “Breathe, love. It’s gonna be pure pleasure from here on out.”

I shouldn’t have doubted him because it doesn’t take long before every inch of my inner channel crackles with something so good, “pleasure” doesn’t even begin to describe it. He saws in and out of me, and I rock against him.

“You take it so well, baby.”

A knot of tension begins winding tighter low in my belly with every slow stroke, and when my orgasm hits me, I see spots of color dance before my eyes. I’m a trembling mess in his arms, and while I’m still pulsating, I feel his dick swell inside me before filling me with his warm, endless spurts of come.

We’re still trying to catch our breath when Callum buries his face in the crook of my neck and whispers, “This is just the beginning, baby girl. But you’re now all mine. This pussy is mine, and I’m gonna do all sorts of things to it. I’ll make you scream, make you moan, make you want more, and I’ll give it to you. Anything and everything you need. You’ll come again and again, you’ll be walking on wobbly legs in the next few days. You’ve been looking after yourself for years. It’s time to let Daddy take care of you now.”

Something about that warms my chest and makes my insides twist. God, this feeling is addicting. I could get used to this—to the freedom of not thinking and worrying about anything anymore and leaving it all up to him. Letting him take care of me?

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but I’ll take all of it. I’ll take all of him.

5

CALLUM

“What will our parents think?” Callie asks while she traces something with her finger on my chest.

I tighten my arm around her and kiss her temple. “Do you care? Your mother sure didn’t when she left you on my doorstep without even giving you options about moving.”

She sighs and snuggles closer. “You’re right. And your father?”

Bile rises to my throat and I tamp down the rising anger I always feel whenever I think back to those days.

“Let me tell you a story, baby girl,” I start. “I was seven when my father and I were thrown out of our apartment because he spent every cent gambling and drinking. When the gang came to collect his debts, he sold his own son to run errands for them, and he moved to another state, leaving me in the hands of the most vicious bastards in the city.

“By the time I was 13, I wasn’t just street-smart, I knew how to fight. Knew how to outsmart grown men. Knew how to run circles around those adults who thought they knew everything. When I had a couple of millions to my name, my father showed up and remembered he actually had a child.”

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