Caught My Step Dad Moaning My Name 3

~Nastya

I woke up the next morning, my mouth dry and my skin flushed. I brushed my teeth, took a long, steaming shower, and picked out my outfit.

I slipped into a short, tight knit dress that hugged every curve, leaving my back completely bare.

George always leaves for his gym center early around eight in the morning, and my mum leaves around the exact same time for her grocery store. It was ten now.

I had intentionally stayed in bed, waiting until I was one hundred percent sure the house was empty so I could be home alone.

I made my way straight to George’s study. Part of me tried to pretend I was just looking for a book to read, but the darker, filthy part of me wanted to see if he had actually cleaned his cum off the desk.

The room was quiet. I walked over to his desk and bent low over the polished wood, my eyes scanning the surface.

The sudden sound of the door clicking open made me jerk straight up, my heart slamming against my throat.

George stood in the doorway, blocking the exit. He wore a crisp dark polo, looking immaculate, his dark eyes slowly tracking down the length of my bare legs and up my tight dress.

Panic surged through me. I hadn't expected anyone to be home.

"What are you doing in my room, Nastya?" his deep, smooth voice echoed off the walls.

"Umm... I came to clean," I stammered, my pulse racing.

He smirked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Clean? Clean what? You’ve never cleaned my library for me. Why today?"

I took a shaky step backward. "Umm, I just... I wanted to try and…”

"To try and clean the mess you saw me spill last night, huh?" he cut in, his voice dropping into a dangerous, raspy rumble. "The shit I did while moaning out your name, isn't it?"

"It’s not like that, George, I swear..." I breathed, my back hitting the edge of the bookcase.

He smiled, a dark, wicked expression. "Then what is it? You caught me, Nastya. And that’s not the first time."

He walked calmly over to the small cabinet in the corner, unlocked a drawer, and pulled something out.

My eyes widened. It was a pair of my blue lace panties, the exact pair I’d been frantically looking for for months.

Along with the underwear, he held up a small printed photo. It was a picture of me from my nineteenth birthday, wearing a short dress, smiling into the camera.

"Since your nineteenth birthday, since you took this photo, I’ve been obsessed with you," George said softly, his dark gaze locking onto mine as he stroked the pants. "I’ve been masturbating while staring at this photo every single week. And when I really needed to smell you... I stole your pants."

My breath hitched violently in my throat.

He tossed the photo on the desk and stepped closer, looking me over again with raw, heavy hunger. "You dress sluttish today. Trying to seduce someone?"

I stumbled back further, my foot catching on the rug, but before I could fall on his desk, his massive, warm hand shot out and clamped firmly around my waist, yanking me flush against his hard body.

"I'm not trying anything!" I gasped, my chest heaving against his. "I didn't know anybody was at home!"

"So you walk around as hot as this when you're home alone?" he growled against my ear, his hand gripping my hip so hard it burned. "Do you touch yourself too when no one is watching? Do you moan my name while your eyes stay half opened while you release from that sweet hole between your legs?”

My breath hitched, my heart hammering like crazy against my ribs.

Being pinned against his broad chest while he said those words sent a filthy, undeniable wave of wetness straight between my thighs.

"I... I don't..." I stammered, my hands resting uselessly against his broad shoulders, my fingers instinctively sinking into his shirt.

"Don't lie to me, Nastya," George low growled, his thumb digging into the soft flesh of my hip, tilting my pelvis directly into his hard, heavy ridge.

I could feel him through his trousers,he's already thick, rigid, and completely erect. "You left your bedroom door unlocked last night after watching me spill myself over this desk. You were waiting for me, weren't you?"

"George, please..." I whispered, my voice trembling with a chaotic mix of fear and want.

"You're a woman Nastya, you're sweet, sexy, beautiful, I know how delicious you're without even tasting you yet," he rasped, his dark eyes burning into mine with an intense, possessive grip that left me completely breathless.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of my ear, sending a shudder straight down my spine. "And you know damn well how much power you have over me."

Before I could form another sentence, his hand slid up from my hip, cupping the side of my face, his fingers threading into my hair as he tilted my head back.

"Tell me what you were doing in your room last night before you came to watch me," he commanded softly, his hot breath smelling faintly of coffee and mint. "Say it, Nastya."

My knees felt weak. I gripped his arms to keep myself upright, my bottom lip trembling. "I was... I was touching myself..."

A low, dark chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "And whose name were you moaning out while you did it?"

I swallowed hard, staring up at his sharp jawline and grey eyes. "Yours," I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it. "George."

His grip tightened in my hair, his chest heaving as a raw groan tore from his throat.

"Good girl," he growled.

His sudden, aggressive force made a sharp jolt of panic shoot through my chest.

The size of him, the weight pressing me against the desk, suddenly felt suffocating.

I flinched, my hands pushing hard against his chest as a small, frightened squeak escaped my throat.

"George, wait… stop!" I gasped, my breathing turning shallow and frantic.

The second he felt me pull back, George froze.

The dark aggression in his posture instantly dissolved, replaced by a careful stillness. He slowly took a step back, opening his hands and raising them slightly to give me space.

"Easy," he said softly, his voice remarkably calm despite the dark fire still burning in his eyes.

He looked down at me with a slow, wicked smile. "You're in control, baby. You have all the power here."

I pressed my back against the edge of the desk, my heart hammering against my ribs. I looked up at him, my lips parted, trying to process the shift in momentum.

"I... I do?" I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

"Always," he replied smoothly, leaning casually against the bookshelf, entirely at my mercy.

A sudden, electric rush of confidence surged straight through my veins.

The fear melted away, replaced by the intoxicating realization that this massive, my forty six year old step father was completely wrapped around my finger.

I took a deep breath, standing up straight and adjusting the hem of my short dress. I bit my lower lip, a warm blush creeping up my neck as a filthy, daring idea took hold.

"On your knees then, George..." I said, my voice dropping into a low, smoky purr.

I paused, tilting my head as a sly smirk touched my lips. "Or can I call you daddy?"

He let out a soft chuckle, a dark, amused gleam flashing in his eyes. "Basically, I'm your stepdad."

"Then on your knees, daddy!" I commanded, taking a step closer and looking down my nose at him. "Watch me do exactly as I did last night when I was busy touching myself thinking about you..."

His dark eyes widened slightly, a raw, primal hunger flaring up in his expression.

"As you wish, your highness," he murmured.

Without a single second of hesitation, George lowered himself before me, dropping onto both knees right in front of me on the floor, his eyes locked onto mine, completely consumed with the lust to have me.