Locked Down With Stepdaddy

“Benita, are you fine?”

Mark’s voice came through the door again, closer this time.

I was still on the bed with my fingers buried inside myself, legs open, phone lying next to me with his video paused on the exact frame where his little one looked the thickest. My brain short-circuited for a second.

“Y-yes,” I managed, but my voice came out shaky and higher than normal.

There was a pause.

“You don’t sound fine.”

I bit my lip hard and kept moving my fingers, slower now, trying not to make any wet sounds.

“I’m good. Just… stretching.”

Another silence.

I could feel him still standing there. Something about the way I answered must have felt off to him because when he spoke again, his voice was careful.

“Alright. I’ll leave you to it.”

I heard his footsteps move away quickly, like he suddenly decided he did not want to know whatever was happening on this side of the door.

Smart man.

The second I was sure he was gone, I dropped the act. I pushed my fingers deeper, thumb rubbing myself in tight circles, and chased the orgasm that had been building since he first pressed against me downstairs.

“Shit… shit… Mark—”

I came hard, thighs shaking, free hand clamped over my mouth so I wouldn’t shout. My whole body tensed and then melted into the mattress.

For a few seconds, I just lay there breathing like I’d run a race, fingers still lazy inside me.

Then my phone started ringing.

Francis’s name flashed on the screen with a video call request.

I stared at it for two full rings, still half-naked, leggings around my knees, yoga top somewhere on the floor.

I should’ve ignored it.

Instead, I accepted, quickly angling the camera so it only showed my face and the pillow behind me.

Francis appeared on screen, lying on his bed in a white tank top, looking frustrated.

“Babe. Finally. I’ve been calling.”

“I was busy,” I said, still a little breathless.

He squinted at me.

“You look… flushed. What were you doing?”

I tried to keep a straight face.

“Nothing. Just hot in here.”

“Uh-huh.”

He grinned slowly.

“You were touching yourself, weren’t you?”

I didn’t answer fast enough.

“I knew it.” He laughed. “Damn, I wish I was there. My hand is getting tired of doing all the work.”

I rolled onto my side, still not fixing my clothes.

“You’re one to talk. How many times have you come since the borders closed?”

“Three times today.”

He didn’t even look ashamed.

“I keep thinking about that red lingerie you said you bought. The one with the little bows. Were you gonna wear that for me the first night?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He groaned and adjusted himself on camera. “Benita, don’t do this to me. Describe it. Right now.”

I sighed like it was a burden, but I was already smiling.

“Fine, it’s red. Lace. The bra is half-cup, so my t!ts almost spill out, and the panties are basically strings with a tiny piece of fabric in the front that wouldn’t have lasted five minutes.”

Francis dropped his head back against the pillow.

“Jesus Christ. And you were gonna walk into my room wearing that?”

“That was the plan.”

“I would’ve fucked you the second the door closed. No talking. Just pulled those strings to the side and slid in.”

I felt a fresh pulse between my legs even though I’d just finished.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true. I’ve been dying for you. My roommate went back to his family, so the whole place is empty. I could’ve had you screaming for a full week straight.”

I laughed under my breath.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious. I miss the way you get when you’re close. That little sound you make. And the way you dig your nails into my back when I’m deep.”

He shifted the camera lower for a second so I could see the outline in his shorts.

“I’m hard again just talking about it.”

“I can see that.”

“Show me something,” he said, voice dropping. “Come on. Just a little. I’ve been going crazy over here.”

I glanced at my closed door, then back at the screen.

“You’re lucky I’m still in a good mood.”

I tilted the phone slightly so he could see the top of my bare breasts, then quickly angled it back up.

Francis made a wounded noise.

“You’re evil. Actually evil. When this lockdown ends, I’m not letting you leave my bed for three days.”

“Three days is ambitious.”

“Try me.” He grinned. “I’ll feed you and fuck you and that’s it. No outside world.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stuck in a house with your stepdad instead of getting railed by me. The universe is cruel.”

I felt a tiny flicker of guilt at the mention of Mark, but I shoved it down.

“Yeah. Cruel.”

Francis kept going, describing in detail everything he wanted to do to me once we were in the same room again—how he would make me sit on his face first, how he wouldn’t let me come until I was begging, how he planned to leave me walking funny for a week.

I listened, threw a few dirty comments back, and let him ramble.

By the time we finally hung up, my smile had faded a little.

I never went back downstairs that night.

I sat on my bed for a long time, still half-dressed, staring at nothing.

Eventually, I pulled my clothes back on, grabbed a bag of chips and a bottle of water, and ate in silence.

I didn’t feel like facing Mark. Not after everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

I fell asleep with the empty chip bag still on the bed.

The next morning, I woke up later than usual. My hair was a mess, and my mouth felt dry.

I dragged myself out of bed, opened my door, and stepped into the hallway.

I walked straight into Mark.

He was coming up from downstairs wearing nothing but a towel low around his hips. The fabric looked like it had been grabbed in a hurry, and his cock was clearly hard, the thick outline springing against the front of the towel like it had somewhere else it wanted to be.

“Morning,” he said, his voice still rough from sleep.

“M-morning,” I stammered.

My eyes dropped before I could stop them. Straight to the obvious bulge.

Then back up to his face.

Then down again.

Then up.

I couldn’t control it. Every time I tried to look at his eyes, my gaze slid right back down to where the towel was tented.

“You okay?” he asked, one brow lifting slightly.

“Yeah, fine. Totally fine.”

My voice came out too fast.

“I was just going downstairs. For food. Breakfast. You know.”

“Right.”

Another second of silence.

His cock shifted under the towel, and my eyes betrayed me again.

I cleared my throat.

“I should go.”

“Okay.”

I caught the clean scent of soap and nearly short-circuited.

“Have a good… whatever you were doing downstairs,” I said, then immediately wanted the floor to swallow me.

Mark’s mouth twitched.

“Will do.”

That was it.

I couldn’t stay there another second. I turned and walked fast toward the stairs, then gave up on walking and just ran.

I didn’t care if he was watching.

I took the steps two at a time, one hand holding my messy hair back from my face, and didn’t stop until I reached the kitchen.

I gripped the edge of the counter and let out a long breath.

“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m cooked.”

I could still picture the exact shape of him under that towel.

And the worst part was that my body had reacted before my brain even caught up.

This lockdown was going to kill me.