CHAPTER 5: MY STEPDADDY GOT ON HIS KNEES AND RUINED ME

“Sweet,” he says. “Knew you would be.”

I’m panting. Wrecked. My brain is static and my pussy is still clenching in aftershocks and I want to say something, something sharp, something defiant, something to claw back the power I just handed him — but he’s already standing.

He shoves his slacks down. No preamble. No performance. They hit the floor and he steps out of them and he’s—

Oh.

I’ve seen big. I watched him through the door. But seeing it from across a dark hallway and seeing it up close, hard and flushed and curving slightly upward, a bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip, those are two completely different experiences.

“That’s not going to fit,” I say, and I mean it.

“It’ll fit.” He wraps his hand around himself and strokes, slow, root to tip, and watching his fist work over his own cock does something to me that I’m going to think about for the rest of my life. “You just came so hard you soaked through the bed. You’ll take every inch.”

“Dominic—”

“On your back.” He says it the same way he said go to your room. Not a request. An instruction. The voice of a man who has never been told no in his life and isn’t about to start accepting it from his stepdaughter.

I lie back. My legs are still shaking. He grabs my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed, my ass right at the rim, and steps between my thighs. The head of his cock brushes my slit and I jerk like I’ve been burned.

“Sensitive?” He drags himself through my folds, coating himself, and the slick, heavy slide of him against my clit makes me gasp. “Good. I want you to feel everything.”

He notches himself at my entrance. Just the tip. Just enough that I can feel the stretch beginning, the thick blunt pressure of him splitting me open, and my hands fly to his forearms.

“Breathe,” he says, and pushes in.

The first inch steals every thought I’ve ever had.

The second inch makes me cry out, sharp and loud and bitten off— because he’s thick, thicker than my body knows what to do with, and I can feel myself stretching around him, tight and resistant and then yielding, opening, taking.

“That’s it.” His voice is strained. Rough. For the first time tonight he sounds affected, like being inside me is costing him something. “Fuck, you’re tight. Relax. Let me in.”

“I’m trying—”

He pushes deeper. Slow. Inch by agonizing inch. I can feel the ridge of his head dragging against my walls, can feel every vein, every pulse of him, and it’s so much, too much, the fullness pressing against something deep inside me that makes my vision blur.

“Halfway,” he says through clenched teeth. “Halfway and you’re already choking my cock. When’s the last time you were stretched like this?”

“Never,” I gasp, and it’s the truth. “Never like this. Nobody’s ever —”

He bottoms out.

I feel it in my stomach. In my chest. In my throat. He’s pressed so deep I can feel his pelvis grinding against my clit and there are tears on my cheeks and I don’t know when they started but I don’t care because this is what I’ve been dreaming about for a month. This. Him. Every filthy, forbidden inch of him buried inside his stepdaughter while his wife sleeps down the hall.

“There,” he breathes. “All of it. Every inch. How does it feel?”

“Full,” I choke. “So full, I can’t—”

“You can.” He pulls back, slow, dragging, and the sensation of him sliding out makes me moan so loud I slap my hand over my mouth.

He grabs my wrist and pins it to the mattress.