My Strict Stepfather's Forbidden Lessons 2

The next night was even worse than the first.

I barely slept at all. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind replayed the kitchen moment — Alexander’s tall, muscular body so close to mine, the way his intense grey eyes had slowly moved down my body, and those dangerous words: “I’m very good at helping people relax.” I was a 20-year-old virgin. I had never let anyone touch me intimately. The only knowledge I had about sex came from the secret romance books I read late at night. Yet here I was, lying in bed with my thighs pressed together, feeling shamefully wet just from remembering his voice.

At 1:35 AM, I gave up. Again.

I slipped out of bed wearing only my short silk nightdress and quietly went downstairs. The house was completely silent. I opened the fridge, staring at nothing, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

“Still can’t sleep, Emily?”

His deep voice behind me made me jump. I turned around slowly.

Alexander stood there in grey sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt that clung to his broad chest and muscular arms. He looked even more powerful in the dim kitchen light.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to wake you again.”

He stepped closer, studying me. “You didn’t wake me. Come with me.”

He gently took my hand and led me upstairs to the master bedroom. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. When we entered, he closed the door softly behind us.

“Lie down on your stomach,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I hesitated for a long moment, then obeyed, lying face-down on the huge bed. The silk of my nightdress rode up my thighs as I settled.

Alexander disappeared for a second and returned with a small bottle of scented massage oil. He warmed it between his big palms and started on my shoulders.

His hands were incredibly strong but careful at first. He worked the tight knots out of my neck and upper back with slow, deep strokes. I let out a soft, involuntary sigh as some of the anxiety started melting away.

“You carry so much tension here,” he murmured. His thumbs pressed firmly into my muscles. “Just breathe, Emily. Let me take care of you.”

He poured more warm oil and moved lower, massaging my mid-back. The scent of lavender filled the room. His hands felt so good that I was starting to relax despite how wrong this felt.

Then his hands moved even lower.

He massaged my lower back, right above my ass, pressing and kneading. I bit my lip. Slowly, his oiled hands slid over my ass cheeks, massaging them firmly through the thin silk. My breathing became heavier.

He continued down to my thighs, his strong fingers working the muscles. Then, as he was stroking the inside of my thigh, his slippery hand “slipped” higher.

His fingers brushed directly over my clit.

“Ahh—” I moaned loudly before I could stop myself. My hips instinctively pushed back against his hand for a second, seeking more contact.

I froze in complete embarrassment.

Alexander paused. His voice was low and slightly husky when he spoke.

“You like that?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My face was burning hot.

He didn’t wait for words. He slowly stroked my clit again with two oiled fingers — gentle, deliberate circles. The pleasure was sharp and completely new. I whimpered into the pillow, my thighs trembling.

For the next several minutes, he focused there — rubbing my clit in slow, teasing circles, then faster, then slow again. Every time I got close, he eased off, keeping me on edge. My pussy was getting soaked. I could hear the wet sounds of his fingers moving against me.

“You’re so wet already,” he murmured, sounding pleased. “Such a responsive little girl.”

I moaned again, pushing back against his hand shamelessly now. He finally gave me what I needed — pressing two thick fingers firmly against my clit and rubbing faster.

The orgasm hit me hard. I cried out into the pillow, my whole body shaking as waves of intense pleasure crashed through me. My pussy clenched and throbbed while he kept rubbing me through it, drawing out every second.

When it finally faded, I was panting, trembling, and completely dazed.

Alexander slowly moved his hand away and went back to massaging my thighs and calves like nothing had happened. His touch was calm and professional again.

I lay there in a blissful, sleepy haze. For the first time in a long time, my mind was quiet.

“Sleep now, Emily,” he whispered, gently pulling the blanket over me.

I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep almost immediately.

But even in my dreams, I could still feel his fingers on me.

And I already knew I would crave more tomorrow night.