CHAPTER 004: SEXY BEANBAG

MICHELA;

I spun around so fast that my long hair whipped across my face. I crossed both arms tightly over my chest, trying to cover my breasts, but it was too late. And they weren't doing a good enough job at covering my tits.

Miles stood frozen in my bedroom doorway. His eyes were fixed on the floor, but I knew… he had seen me. He had seen everything. His hand gripped the wooden doorframe so hard his knuckles turned white, like he was fighting to stay in control.

My heart hammered against my ribs with anxiety mixed with satisfaction. I only wished for him to see me this way, and now he was here. I licked the lower part of my lips slowly.

The air in the room suddenly felt thick and hot, I was standing there in nothing but my white lace bra and panties, my soft curves completely exposed.

I should have felt ashamed. I should have screamed at him to get out. Instead, a strange thrill ran through me,I loved how his presence filled the room. I loved the way his broad shoulders blocked the light from the hallway, I loved the smell of his sweat mixed with something woody filled my bedroom at once.

He slowly lifted his head, our eyes locked. For a moment, neither of us breathed. His gaze traveled down my body slowly, carefully, almost reverently.

It lingered on my full breasts, I slid my hands out slowly, granting him a full view of my perky breasts, the way they rose and fell with my quick breaths. Heat pooled low in my belly.

My nipples tightened even harder under the lace, clearly visible, and dark like they were begging for attention. I shivered, but not from cold. I was burning inside.

“Have you been…” My voice came out shaky and breathless. I couldn’t finish the sentence because it truly didn't matter how long he had been standing there.

Miles took a few steps into the room. He was so tall, so broad. His shadow fell over me, making me feel small and delicate. My eyes dropped to his strong arms. The veins stood out as he placed his hands on his hips.

The thin apron he still wore from working outside now tied into a knot, just above his belt. I couldn’t stop my gaze from tracing the outline of his waist, wondering what lay beneath.

“No, Kitten,” he said again, his deep voice rough. “You don’t let anybody talk down on you… You are… delicate. Precious.” He paused, swallowing hard. His eyes darkened. “You are sex… Fuck!”

The word came out like a growl. He turned sharply away from me, but I had already seen the hunger in his eyes. My heart fluttered wildly. Did he really just say that? Did Miles, my stepfather, just call me sexy?

“You think I am sexy?” I whispered, my voice barely audible, surprising me too at how bold I was getting. He was my stepfather and I had no business saying those words to him.

Miles stopped walking but didn’t turn around. His back was tense, shoulders rigid like he was fighting a war inside himself. Facing me right now seemed dangerous for both of us.

“I think you are perfect,” he said quietly, his voice low and thick. “Like a princess. Daddy’s little princess.”

Each word landed like a soft caress on my skin. My toes curled hard against the cool floor.

Daddy’s little princess. Kitten. Daddy’s girl. Miles knew exactly which words melted me. A small, shy smile crept onto my lips. I wished he could see it, but he kept his back to me, as if looking at me any longer might make him lose control.

“Thank you,” I murmured softly. Then, almost like a breath, I added, “Daddy.”

The word hung in the air between us. I had called him Daddy for years, ever since he married my late mom.

But lately, it carried a different weight. It felt intimate. Charged. I saw the way his shoulders tightened when I said it. I could almost feel the same rush of heat running through him that was flooding my own body.

For a long moment, silence stretched between us. I could hear my own heartbeat. I could hear his heavy breathing, the erotic tension in the room was so thick I could barely think straight.

My skin tingled everywhere his eyes had touched. I wanted him to turn around, I wanted him to look at me again, the same naughty way they ravaged me. I wanted his hands on me instead of gripping the air.

“Get dressed, Kitten,” he finally said, his voice strained. He swallowed audibly. “Tracey’s joining us for dinner.”

My eyebrows pulled together. The warm smile on my lips faded instantly. Tracey?! That name hit like cold water. He walked to the door without turning back to look, the door slamming shut behind him with a thud.

“Tracey?!” I mumbled under my breath. “That witch!”