CHAPTER 9

**Chapter 9**

**What He Brought Me**

I went straight to my room after Richard left me in the kitchen.

My hands were still shaking. The place where his fingers had brushed my cheek burned like a brand. I closed the door, locked it out of habit, then unlocked it again almost immediately. The click of the lock sliding open felt louder than it should have.

I stood in the middle of the room for a long time, heart hammering, trying to decide what the hell I was doing.

I was supposed to be disgusted. He was my stepfather. He had just admitted he knew about Josh and me. He had touched me in the kitchen like he already owned the right. And still… the low, certain way he had whispered *I’ll come check on you later* kept replaying in my head, sending fresh heat between my legs.

I pulled off my hoodie and leggings. In the mirror I looked flushed, eyes too bright, lips parted. I reached for one of my softest nightgowns—thin white cotton that barely reached mid-thigh—and slipped it on. Nothing underneath. The cool air against my bare pussy made me shiver. I was already wet. Just from the promise of him.

I left the lamp on low and sat on the edge of the bed.

And waited.

Minutes stretched. I checked my phone. Scrolled. Put it down. Picked it up again. Every creak of the house made my pulse jump. Every distant footstep had me holding my breath. The longer the silence lasted, the more the eagerness curdled into something sharper.

Disappointment.

I shouldn’t have felt it. He was my stepfather. This was wrong on every level. I should have been relieved he hadn’t come. Instead I felt restless, almost angry, like he had offered something and then left me empty-handed.

I finally gave up and slid under the covers, turning off the lamp. The darkness felt heavier than usual. I closed my eyes and tried to force sleep.

A soft knock sounded against my door.

My eyes flew open. My heart slammed so hard I was sure it could be heard two rooms away.

I sat up slowly. Another knock—quiet, deliberate.

I crossed the room on bare feet and opened the door just enough to see.

Richard stood in the hallway, one shoulder leaning against the frame. He wore nothing but dark sweatpants that sat low on his hips. The soft light from the hall caught the broad planes of his chest, the dusting of dark hair, the solid strength in his arms. A large, slow smirk curved his mouth—those full, firm lips looking almost soft until the expression turned predatory.

He didn’t ask to come in. He simply walked forward, forcing me to step back, and closed the door behind him with a quiet click.

“I was going to bed,” I said, the words coming out thinner than I wanted.

Richard’s brows lifted slightly. The smirk deepened. “Were you? After the way you looked at me downstairs, I thought you’d be waiting all night.”

The arrogance in his voice made my stomach flip. I hated that it also sent a fresh pulse of heat between my bare thighs.

He moved closer. I backed up until my shoulders hit the wall. He didn’t stop until the heat of his body was only inches away. One hand came up and closed around the front of my throat—not hard enough to choke, but firm enough that I felt the dominance in every finger. His thumb pressed lightly against the side of my neck, feeling my racing pulse.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t soft. His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that felt older and deeper than anything Josh had ever shown me. Josh kissed like he was claiming territory. Richard kissed like he had already decided I belonged to him and was simply taking what was his. His tongue pushed past my lips, tasting me thoroughly, and I made a small, helpless sound against his mouth.

When he finally pulled back, my lips felt swollen. His eyes were dark.

“You’ve been thinking about it,” he murmured. “About my hand between your legs in the kitchen. About what I promised.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Richard’s mouth moved to my neck. He kissed, licked, then bit down just hard enough to make me gasp. His free hand slid down my side, over the thin cotton of the nightgown, mapping the curve of my waist, the flare of my hip. When he reached the hem he didn’t stop. His palm slid underneath, up the bare skin of my thigh, higher, until his fingers brushed the soft, bare heat between my legs.

He went still for a second.

Then a low, dark sound left his throat.

“No panties,” he said against my neck. “You really were waiting.”

Before I could speak he gripped the thin strap of my nightgown and tore it. The fabric ripped cleanly from my shoulder, exposing one breast to the cool air. I gasped—half shock, half pure want. Richard’s mouth returned to mine, hungrier now, while his hand cupped my bare breast, thumb dragging over the tight nipple until my knees threatened to give out.

He pressed his hips forward, grinding the thick, hard length of his cock against my lower stomach through the sweatpants. I felt every inch of him, the way he thickened further as he rubbed against me.

“You feel that?” he asked, voice low and rough against my lips. The words were pure sex. “That’s something Josh can never give you. Not like this. Not with this much control. I know you want it.”

My head was spinning. Desire had burned away every rational thought. The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

“Just fuck me already.”

Richard’s eyes flashed. A slow, satisfied smile curved those lips.

“Greedy little thing.”

His hand left my breast and slid straight between my legs. Two thick fingers found my entrance and shoved inside without warning—deep, stretching, relentless. I cried out, the sound half gasp, half scream, my head falling back against the wall. He curled his fingers immediately, rubbing hard against that swollen spot inside me while his palm ground against my clit.

“Fuck—Richard—”

“That’s it,” he growled, working his fingers in and out of my dripping pussy with wet, filthy sounds. “Listen to how wet you are for your stepfather. Already dripping down my hand. You dirty girl.”

My hips moved on their own, fucking myself onto his fingers. The pleasure built fast and brutal. My moans turned into broken little cries. I was so close—right on the edge—when he suddenly pulled his fingers out completely.

I whimpered at the loss, legs trembling.

Richard brought the wet fingers to my mouth and pushed them past my lips. “Taste how much you want me.”

I sucked without thinking, tasting myself on his skin.

He watched me do it, eyes nearly black. Then he leaned in close again, voice a dark promise against my ear.

“If you want me to fuck you, you’re going to show me how much. On your knees. Begging. Wet and open and desperate. Because this—” he pressed his still-hard cock against me one more time “—was just the beginning of how I’ll make you scream my name. Loud enough that even your mother will wake up.”

He stepped back.

The sudden space between us felt like a slap. My nightgown hung torn from one shoulder. My thighs were slick. My body was still trembling on the edge of an orgasm he had deliberately stolen.

Richard opened the door, glanced back once with that same large, knowing smirk, and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stayed against the wall, breathing hard, nightgown half-torn, pussy aching and empty, and realized with a sick, thrilling certainty that I already wanted him to come back and finish what he started.