ADDICTIVE DADDY

(CARLTON’S POV)

The devil lurks in the dark, waiting for a piece of me. 

I didn’t forget to lock the door. 

I forgot my virtues. 

Orgasms feel more honorable than morals, master's degrees, and money. It’s the only thing I can’t buy. 

Three months since Mom married him. Twelve weeks of this nightly ritual. Eighty-six days of hating myself. And it only gets worse. 

The same cycle of taboo. Kneeling on all fours as he pounds inside me. Pleasure in exchange for his relief.

I’ve tried resisting, but his innuendos are like curses. His cock is addictive like junk– one bite leads to another, but I’m never satisfied.

Cuddled in my bed, I pretend not to be aware of the figure in my room. Cloaked by the shadows, stealth like a snake, waiting for a rat to sneak too close, before throttling it fangs deep. 

I’m that Rat. Worse, I crave his bite, that onslaught of venomous pain through my veins, like yesterday. 

My nostrils flare— cedarwood, sweat, and the salty whiff of cum. Jagged breaths, grunts, and erotic wet sounds fill my ears. 

Tucking the duvet over my head, I grit my teeth against the influx of hormones steaming my body. My cock is granite, and nipples sharpened to pink, throbbing buds. 

He always leaves hickeys on my body, while Mom’s skin is spotless. I'd feel his wedding ring— the one Mom slid on his fingers two months ago—scraping against my inner walls. The cold 

diamond is a reminder of exactly how depraved this is. 

Reaching under my pillow, I snag the pistol, sitting upright.

Glassy amber eyes meet mine, sweat trails down his hairy, tattooed chest, as he shoots bouts of cum across the floor. “...Carlton… I need you.”

Stop moaning my goddamn name! 

“Devil get behind me, depart from whence you came,” Aiming at him, I say. “I swear to motherfucking Christ I’d blow off your brains.” 

They say guns are like God; when you see them, you bow. Still, he stands there, stroking his shaft, unbothered by my candour. 

I wince, limping to my feet. “You married Mom three goddamn months ago. Amanda is now my Sister. This Is Wrong.” 

Moisture wells in my eyes. “Do you hate, Mom?” 

He jerks, chasing his breath. “...I need you.”

Someone could walk in, doesn’t he get it?  

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re the only thing keeping me sane,” he sidles closer. “Shoot me, I’ll crawl on my stomach, just to be inside you.” 

“She doesn’t deserve this.”

“She’s not innocent!” 

“Coming from a saint who fucks his stepson!” My balls tighten, but I steady my voice. “You’re a marriage counsellor. A therapist, you bastard! A fucking deacon in the church. The same hands you used to anoint people are the same— Christ!” 

Moaning, he licks the splotch off his hand, pumping his length with the other. “I have sessions tomorrow, and sermons to preach in church. Baby, let’s get this over with.” 

“I’m not your, Baby!” My voice rattles the walls. “God is not foolish, whatever a man sows he shall reap. You twisted skunk!” 

“Then let me sow my seeds inside you,” a plea, like the cry of a deprived man. “Let me whore myself in secret, let God be the judge of that. You don’t have to join me in hell. I’ll burn for the both of us.” 

Why and how did Mom meet this demon?! 

No tinge of regret, instead his cock elongates between his legs. 

And my legs trudge against my will.

God damnit! 

The cold metal digs into my palm. I’m drawn to him like a Moth to a flame, but I’ll die before letting his heat consume me. 

“I’m not leaving here until I get a piece of you, Bunny.” 

“I’m not gay!” I snap. “I won’t do this! Go fuck yourself. Or better still, your wife.” 

Hands behind his head, his abs clench, making his cock pulse. My tongue aches to lick the precum dropping from his crown, to feel him deep inside me. 

“I’ll count to five. If you don’t shoot, I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll faint.” his tone makes my pulse skitter. “Five.” 

I could shoot him. The gun is loaded.

I could scream. Mom would come running.

I could refuse, like we established that the first night.

I do none of those things. 

Because I crave him. 

I hate that I want him. 

But I fucking do. 

My heart dips. “You think I’m joking?” 

He closes in like a fog. “Four.” 

Anticipation claws at my throat. “Stay back, Henry.” 

“Three.” 

I meander backward. “Touch me, I’ll shoot.” 

“Two.” 

My legs hit the bed wood.

I crawl back on the sheets, fingers teasing the trigger. “Don’t test me.” 

His eyes flash. “One.” 

Time slows. 

Kneeling erect, I point at him. “I killed a Cobra when I was ten. Don’t top the list.” 

A grin tilts his lips. “Gonna shoot me, Bunny?” 

I hate what his Russian accent does to me. 

Swift as lightning, he twists my hands backwards, slams me onto the bed, and climbs on top of me. “You swallowed my cock last night, like Daddy’s, eager slut. What changed?” 

“Go to your wife!” Snatching the lamp stand, I smash it on his head. 

He barely recovers before my legs arrow into his face.

“Fuck!” His yelp peals as he crashes off the bed. 

Screeching, I charge for the door, grazing the knob. 

Thank God I insisted on soundproofing when I moved back from college. I told Mom it was for studying. Really, I was only making sure my moans don’t escape this room, while her husband fucks me. 

I’m done for, but I ain’t going down without a fight. 

A force grips me, yanking me onto the sheets. 

Henry stalks me like a demon. I sweep for anything to bruise him, but he’s too strong. In seconds, he secures my wrists over my head, hips straddling mine, crushing me with his weight. 

“Stop squirming like a pussy,” He nips on my belly button, flicking my cock through the fabric. 

“This hassle is only turning me on.” 

“Wait…” I curse a moan for escaping me. He flips me onto my stomach— something cold–lube drips down my crack before four fingers stuff inside. “Henry… ahh, fuck!” 

I wriggle, but the first thrust renders me limp. “I fucking hate you.” 

Euphoria rams me like a truck, my hips bounce, chasing his digits to the hilt. 

“I’ve been on insulin injections lately, if only the doctors knew where I get my sugar from.” His breaths rain on my neck, fuelling the madness. “It’s been days since I sucked your nipples. Can I?” 

I whack his face before taking off my shirt. “Stop acting virtuous.” 

“I’m not,” he grins, lowering his head. 

His lips lick up my chest, closing around my nipple, making me feel every inch of his hot mouth, while simultaneously popping my cherry.

My eyes spin as I press him closer. “Quit your CEO job and be a tit sucker.” 

“I am your tit sucker,” he bites on my ripe buds, drawing a sharp cry from me. 

My cock slaps against his, gliding precum on my pub area. I poke his shaft, fucking our dicks. 

He growls around my buds, tightening my lungs. “Sure, you don’t want to shoot?” 

Tears burn my eyes, guilt warps around me, but the orgasm tears it down. 

The head of his cock slurps down my prostate, settling at the entrance of my hole. I spread wide, giving him access to hump me through the fabric. 

Forcing my jaw open, he spits down my throat. His seeds sprout deep, lighting me the fuck up. 

I dip my head for a kiss, but he grapples my jaw. Our breath mixes, the hunger undeniable, too wild to satiate. 

His Adam's apple bops fast. “Until we’re married.” 

Raw, unbridled anger. “You claim me by force, but you can’t kiss me?”

“You’re not ready.”

“You sociopath!” my voice heats. “Are you planning to divorce Mom… kill her… and marry me? Is that your plan?”

He chuckles, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s see.” 

“Get the fuck off me!” I snap. “Now.” 

“We had a deal,” he says. “I won, so I fuck you. Either way, I’m not a rapist—If you want me gone, say the word.” 

This bastard is twisted beyond recovery. “What does forcing your way mean?”

“Foreplay, Baby,” he says. “I didn’t fuck you, did I?”

I glance at his fingers buried inside me. “Of course.” 

The simp actually shoves it deeper. “Say the word. I’ll be gone.” 

“I’ll tell Mom tomorrow." It’s not a lie. I can’t resist him, but I can destroy us both. 

His eyes tense. Rage, panic? I don’t fucking care. “I dare you.”

I smirk because I enjoy people underestimating me. It makes the surprise more tragic. “You know my body, not my mind.”

He palms my chest, my heart beating under his skin. “I know every part of you.”

“Delusions of grandeur.” I grin. “Does your psychiatrist know you suffer from them?”

“You love evil me, Baby. I love the romance of ruining your life,” he kisses my chest. “We’re both fucked.” 

Taking out the first aid box from my drawer, I turn to see him capping a condom over his cock. 

Blood trickles from his hair onto my nose. I don’t wipe it. One wrong movement can be lethal. 

Our chest heaves, breathing laboriously.

Bitter as it sounds, I think Mom isn't wise, because the blind can see the red flags hovering over this man. Maybe she’s brainwashed by love?

Either way, she won’t have to suffer anymore. Tomorrow it ends… forever. 

Tristan lowers my pants, splitting my thighs. “So, are you stitching or should I fuck you first?”

Gripping his girth, I guide it into me. His breath shallows as he thrusts in. “Damn, Bunny. You’re so tight and mine.”

Snaking my legs around his waist, I cave into him, moaning with his thrusts. He shoves five fingers inside my mouth, piping into me like an animal.

I bite down on his flesh, the bed creaks, as we lose ourselves in each other. 

Shame sears deeper than his thrusts.

I hope Mom and Amanda forgive me, because if they don’t.

I’ll fucking kill him!