Caught My Step Dad Moaning My Name

~Nastya

The sound of the front door shutting echo dropped through the quiet mansion, followed almost immediately by the familiar, heavy click of dress shoes against the floor.

George walked into the foyer, his suit jacket draped over his arm and his tie loosened at his collar.

His expression was dark, heavy with the weight of sending his own son away in handcuffs, but the moment his eyes found me standing at the top of the stairs, the tension in his shoulders seemed to break.

I didn't wait for him to take another step. I ran down the grand staircase, my bare feet flying over the steps, and launched myself off the bottom landing straight into his arms.

George caught me effortlessly, his massive, strong arms wrapping tight around my back as I jumped up and wrapped my legs securely around his waist.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his sharp cologne, feeling the solid, grounding warmth of his chest against mine.

I pulled my head back, looking down into his dark, tired eyes with a soft, breathy smile.

"How am I going to thank you properly other than in bed?" I whispered, tracing the hard line of his jawline with my thumb.

George stared up at me, a low, rumbling breath escaping his lips. A faint, dark smirk slowly tugged at the corner of his mouth, the heavy shadow on his face easing into something far more dangerous and familiar.

He leaned up, capturing my lips in a deep, slow, possessive kiss that tasted like victory and pure relief.

When he finally pulled back, his hand shifted to cup the back of my thigh, squeezing firmly.

"A good thank you after taking a shower wouldn't hurt, right?" he grumbled, his voice low and raspy against my neck.

I winked at him, a playful, wicked grin spreading across my face as I bit my lower lip.

"Ummm... how about we bathe together then and mess up the bathroom?" I purred, leaning down to whisper directly into his ear. "We can use mine.”

George let out a low, rough chuckle, his grip on my thighs tightening as he turned and carried me straight up the grand staircase.

My head rested against his shoulder, my fingers tangled in the dark fabric of his dress shirt as he carried me like I weighed nothing.

When we reached my bedroom, he nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside, letting it kick shut behind us with a solid, heavy thud.

He didn't set me down. He carried me straight into the master bathroom, where the air still smelled faintly of the expensive floral body wash I had used earlier.

Without breaking eye contact, George reached out with one broad hand and turned the chrome handles of the large rainfall shower, letting the warm water burst down onto the dark marble tiles.

"Mess up the bathroom, huh?" he growled softly, his voice thick and raspy as he carried me toward the glass enclosure. "You're asking for trouble, Nastya."

"I think I can handle your kind of trouble," I whispered back, a slow, teasing smile playing on my lips.

He set me down on my feet right beside the frosted glass door. His large hands made quick work of his own clothes, unbuckling his belt, stripping off his shirt, and tossing his designer pants onto the bench by the vanity until he stood tall, broad, and towering over me.

My breath hitched as his eyes swept down my body, taking in the soft oversized sweater and denim shorts I was wearing.

"Take it off," George commanded, his dark eyes burning with that familiar, possessive hunger that was completely his, nothing like the sick, desperate malice his son had brought into this house.

I pulled the sweater up over my head, letting it drop to the floor, followed by my denim shorts.

George took my hand, his calloused fingers lacing through mine, and guided me into the steaming glass stall.

The warm water cascaded down over both of us instantly, soaking my hair and running down the curves of my body in slick, glistening streams.

He pulled me flush against his hard, broad chest under the hot spray. His hands slid down my wet back, cupping my rear and lifting me slightly off the wet floor tiles so my hips aligned perfectly with his.

The heat of the water mixed with the raw, intense friction of his skin against mine made my head spin.

"You're completely mine now, Nastya," George murmured against my lips, his thumb tracing the wet curve of my lower lip before leaning in to claim my mouth in a deep, bruising kiss.

I wrapped my arms tight around his neck, leaning back against the marble wall as the warm water pounded over us, completely surrendering to the man who had just saved me and claimed me as his own.

George pushed me flat against the slick marble tiles of the shower, his heavy body trapping me under the pounding torrent of hot water.

He dropped to his knees right there in the stall, his calloused hands gripping my hips so tightly his fingers dug into my wet skin.

He buried his face into my chest, latching his mouth onto my right breast. He sucked so hard it felt like he wanted to swallow me whole, his teeth grazing my hard nipple while his tongue worked in fierce, wild circles.

I arched my back off the wet wall, a sharp, choked gasp escaping my lips as the intensity sent an electric shock straight down between my legs.

Without slowing his mouth down, George reached one hand down, parting my thighs, and shoved two fingers straight into my soaking center.

He didn't ease into a rhythm. He fingered me brutally, fast and deep, his thumb grinding hard against my clit while his mouth switched to my other breast, biting and sucking with a desperate, unhinged hunger that completely shattered every rule of gentle, predictable sex.

The sensation was raw, chaotic, and completely out of control. Hot water cascaded over my face and into my open mouth as I gasped for air, completely drowning in the dizzying friction of his fingers and teeth.

"George... fuck!" I screamed out, my hands tangling into his soaked hair, pulling him deeper into my chest.

He suddenly stood up, his heavy chest heaving as he grabbed my waist and spun me around to face the edge of the glass shower enclosure.

"Hold the door," he growled into my ear, his voice thick, primal, and devoid of any restraint.

I reached out with trembling hands, gripping the top edges of the glass shower door frame to brace myself. My wet legs were shaking, my bare body completely exposed and arched forward.

He didn't bother with saliva or coaxing. He lined the blunt, heavy head of his cock up with my rear entrance and drove straight in with one ruthless, devastating thrust.

A deafening scream tore from my throat, echoing off the wet tile walls. The tight, intense stretch sent a wild surge of painful, ecstasy rushing through my entire body.

He set a punishing, furious pace from behind.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

His hips slammed against my wet ass with terrifying force. Every relentless blow sent shockwaves up my spine, making my heavy breasts flap wildly with every violent stroke.

I couldn't hold anything back. My fingernails scraped against the top of the glass frame as broken, frantic moans spilled out of me in uncontrollable waves.

"Fuck me, Daddy!" I shrieked into the steam, completely out of my mind with pleasure. "Ruin me! Ruin me, Daddy! Harder!"

George groaned like a wounded animal behind me, his grip on my waist so tight it burned, his thrusts turning shorter, faster, and wildly aggressive as he drove me straight toward the edge of a massive, shattering climax.

Suddenly, the bathroom door swung wide open.

The heavy thud of the door hitting the wall sliced through the sound of the running shower.

I turned my head wildly to the side, my eyes wide with sudden horror and locked directly onto my mother standing right in the doorway.

Her face was twisted in a terrible, pale mixture of rage, shock, and pure disgust. Her hands were shaking violently as she held her phone up toward us.

Glowing brightly on the screen was the crystal clear video of George and me on his study desk, Julian’s final, lethal strike sent before the police had taken him away.

"What... what is this?!" my mother screamed, her voice cracking hysterically over the sound of the water.

George’s eyes were locked shut in pure, blind lust, completely consumed by the storm of his own impending climax. He didn't see her. He didn't slow down. He didn't stop. He just kept pounding into my ass with terrifying, relentless speed, his heavy hips slamming against me over and over.

And the craziest, most twisted part of all?

Seeing my mother standing there with the video, watching her husband violently taking her daughter from behind, sent a wild, sick jolt of adrenaline straight to my core.

I didn't want him to stop. I couldn't let him stop. The forbidden horror of it all pushed me over the absolute edge, my inner muscles clamping down tight around his shaft as a violent, gushing orgasm ripped through my body, flooding the shower floor beneath us.

My head fell back against the edge of the glass, my chest heaving in ragged gasps as the waves of that overwhelming, forbidden climax hit me again and again.

George let out a low, gut wrenching groan, completely blind to the room, his thrusts reaching a final, violent tempo before he drove himself as deep into my ass as he could possibly go and flooded me with his heat.

He slumped forward slightly, his broad, wet chest pressing hard against my back, his breath ragged against my ear.

My mother let out a horrific, choked shriek from the doorway, stepping back as if she’d been struck.

"George!" she screamed, her voice cracking into pure, hysterical fury. "GET OFF HER!"

The sharp, shrill sound of her voice finally sliced through the daze of George's climax. His eyes snapped open.

He froze, his head snapping toward the open door, his face instantly dropping into complete, frozen shock as he saw his wife standing right there, tears streaming down her pale face, her glowing phone still clutched in her trembling hand.

He pulled out of me with a wet, heavy sound, taking a staggering step back in the shower stall.

I slid down the slick marble wall, my knees giving out entirely as I collapsed onto the wet floor tiles.

Hot shower water pounded down on my back and shoulders, washing away the evidence of our sin, but the air in the bathroom was thick, suffocating, and ruined.

George grabbed a towel off the rack with shaking hands, wrapping it hurriedly around his waist as he stepped out of the shower stall, his broad frame towering over the small room.

"Elena... listen to me," George stammered, his voice rough and stripped of all its usual authority.

"Listen to you?!" my mother sobbed, taking a step back into the bedroom, holding the glowing screen up in his face like a weapon. "I have the video, George! Julian sent it to me ten minutes ago, and here I am witnessing it with my own eyes. My own husband... with my daughter! On your fucking desk!"

"Elena…"

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, slapping his hand away as he reached for her. "I called the police on my way here! I told them everything!"

George went completely rigid. "You did what?"

"They're on their way back!" she yelled, her voice echoing through the entire house. "Both of you... you're both disgusting, sick monsters!"

She turned on her heel and slammed the bedroom door shut, her heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway as she ran toward the front door.

I sat on the cold shower floor in the rising steam, the water washing over my skin.

George turned back to look at me, his eyes wide, hollow, and filled with a sudden, dark panic. The game was over. The house of cards had officially collapsed, and the sirens were already heading back to our street.