Good Girl For Daddy (3)

Elena’s POV~

The pink box was heavy. I was carrying it down the hallway. Toward his room. Like he told me to. Because he TOLD me to. And I did it. Like a good girl. Like an idiot.

My arms were shaking. Not from the weight of the box but from the fact that I could hear him behind me. His bare feet on hardwood as he followed me. Watching me.

I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. I could feel his eyes on my back. On my ass. On the way my shorts rode up when I walked.

"Faster, Elena." His voice was low. Almost cold. Like he wasn't affected at all. Like he wasn't the one who told me to bring my ex's box to his room.

"I'm going as fast as I can."

"You're going slow because you're thinking about what's in that box."

I stopped walking. My heart slammed. "I'm NOT."

"Liar."

I turned around. Mistake. Huge mistake. Because he was right there, bare chested. His gray sweatpants was hanging low on his hips. His hair was messy from running his hands through it. His skin was glistening like he just got out of the shower.

And he was not smiling. His jaw was tight. His eyes were hard. He was looking at me like I was a problem he hadn't solved yet.

My eyes dropped. I couldn't help it. They always dropped.

They landed to his broad, hard chest. A trail of dark hair was going down his stomach, disappearing into those sweatpants.

I bit my lip and he saw it. His jaw tightened more.

"Don't," he snapped.

"Don't what?"

"Don't bite your lip. Don't look at me like that. Don't stand there with that box like you're offering me something."

"I'm not offering you anything. You told me to carry it."

"And you're doing a terrible job." He stepped closer. "Give me the box."

I handed it over. Our fingers touched. The box between us. His fingers wrapped around mine. He didn't let go.

"Let GO."

"Make me."

We stood there in the hallway, mom’s bedroom door was open. She could walk out any second. Any. Second.

And he was holding my hand. Bare chested. Looking at me like he wanted to strangle me. Or kiss me. Or both.

"Step-Dad..." I whispered. "Mom's door is open."

"I know."

"Then let GO."

He leaned in close. Too close. His breath was on my face, reeking of something that made my knees weak.

"Say please."

"Go to hell."

His eyes flashed dangerously. Then he let go, hard.

I stumbled back. The box shifted in his arms. And that's when it happened. The latch broke. The pink box flew open. Everything spilled out.

My clothes, photos and jewelry… they were all there. And there it was. The dildo.

It was pink and thick and veiny, rolling across the hallway floor, slowly, like it had somewhere to be.

It stopped right between his bare feet. We both looked down.

Silence fell. The kind of silence that burns. Except it burnt my face.

Shit.

He didn't move. He didn’t even blink. He just stared at it. Then at me. But this time... I could see the surprise, the flicker in his eyes before he buried it.

He didn't know what was in the box. He thought it was just clothes. Photos. Maybe jewelry.

He did not think it was this.

"What the FUCK is this?" His voice was sharp. Angry. But his eyes... his eyes were still on it. Still looking.

"It's not what you think."

"It's a dildo, Elena. What else would I think?"

"It was my ex's. It was in the box. I didn't—"

"SHUT UP."

I shut up.

He bent down. Slowly and picked it up and turned it over in his hand. His jaw was so tight I could see the muscle jumping there. "This was in your box?"

"YES."

"You carried this through MY house?"

"You told me to carry it."

"I told you to carry a box. Not a fucking sex toy." He held it up, the pink was against his bare chest. Then his eyes went dark. Then he looked away. Fast.

"Give it back."

"No."

"Rick. Give it back."

"I said NO."

He stepped closer. Just one step. The dildo was still in his hand. His chest heaving. His eyes looked wild. "Does your mom know about this?"

"NO."

"Does she know you used THIS?"

"I SAID NO."

"Then why are you shaking?"

"I'm not shaking."

"You are." His eyes dropped to my hands. They were shaking. "And why are you wet?"

My breath stopped. "I'm NOT—"

"Don't lie to me." His voice turned low and dangerous. "I can see it, Elena. I can see right through those shorts."

I looked down. He was right. I was soaked. Through my shorts. It was visible. I wanted to die. I just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me or something.

He saw my face. And something in him snapped.

"You're standing here. In my hallway. Carrying your ex's dildo. Wet. Shaking. Looking at me like you want me to—" He stopped and breathed hard. "Get away from me."

"I'm trying to."

"You're not trying. You're standing there with your legs apart and your lips parted and you're not trying."

"I hate you."

"Good. Hate me. That's easier than what you're actually feeling."

He turned away and ran his hand through his hair. His bare chest was heaving. The dildo was still in his hand. He looked at it and then at me and then looked at it again. "This is disgusting," he said.

"Then throw it away."

"I should." He didn't. He set it on the floor between us. Like a line. Like a test. "You want this?" he asked mockingly. "Or do you want something else?"

"I don't want anything from you."

"Liar." He stepped closer. His bare chest was inches from mine. "You want my fingers. Admit it."

"No."

"Say it.""NO."

"Say 'I want your fingers, Daddy.'"

The word hit me like a slap.

"I don’t call you that."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my step-DAD."

He grabbed my chin. Hard. And forced me to look at him. "Say it again."

"Step-Dad."

His grip tightened. His eyes were blazing. "Wrong. Try again."

"Let go of me."

"SAY. IT."

"D-Daddy..."

The word fell out. It sounded broken and pathetic. His hand dropped. Like I burned him. He stepped back and looked at me like I was the worst thing that ever happened to him. Like he was the one suffering.

"Again," he said roughly. His voice was wrecked.

"What?"

"The question. Answer it. The dildo or my fingers. Pick one."

"I... I..."

"PICK."

My eyes were closed. His bare chest was inches from mine. His heartbeat was under my chin where he'd grabbed me. And his fingers were still hot and rough on my jaw.

Stop it. STOP IT, ELENA!

He's my step-dad. He's my mother’s husband. He's 40 and I'm 21 and this is wrong. This is sick. This is the kind of thing that gets you locked up.

So why am I wet?

Why am I standing here in this hallway with my shorts soaked through thinking about his cock?

Not the dildo. His cock. The real one. The one I saw when he bent down was thick and hard, straining against those gray sweatpants.

My ex was 24. He lasted two minutes and I faked it every single time.

Daniel hasn't even touched me. Not really. Not where it counts. And I'm already—

Already what?

Already imagining him bending me over this hallway floor. Right here. Where Mom could walk out any second.

His bare chest would be on my back. Heavy and hor. His hand would be on my throat, squeezing. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me who's in control.

"Quiet, Elena. Your mom's right there."

And I'd be quiet. I'd bite my lip so hard it bleeds. Because the thought of her walking in... of her seeing…

God. It makes me wetter.

That's not normal. That's not right. I know that. I know that. But my body doesn't care. My body is a traitor. Because now I'm thinking about his fingers.

The ones that were inside me. Curled. Hitting that spot. Making me shake. What would his cock feel like? Would it be bigger than the dildo? Of course it would. Warm as well.

Would he be rough? Would he slam into me? Would he grab my hair and pull my head back and—

STOP.

I'm his step-daughter. I said Daddy. I actually said it. Out loud. To his face.

And the worst part? It didn't feel wrong. It felt like the truest thing I've ever said. And now I can't stop. I can't stop imagining him inside me. Filling me. Stretching me. Making me scream his name.

Not Rick. Daddy. I'd scream Daddy. I'd beg Daddy. I'd say "please Daddy don't stop" while my mom sleeps 10 feet away.

I'm disgusting. I'm so wet I'm disgusting. I'm standing in a hallway with my ex's dildo on the floor and I'm thinking about my step-dad's cock and I—

I’m going to hell.

"BOTH." I almost whispered.

Silence fell.

His hand dropped from my jaw. Like I'd slapped him. "Wrong answer," he said roughly.

"W-why?"

"Because you don't get both." He picked up the dildo and held it up. "You get one. And right now..." He pressed it against my stomach. "...you get this. Because you clearly can't be trusted with the real thing."

"That's not fair."

"Fair??" He laughed darkly. "You're standing in my hallway. Calling me Daddy. Soaked. And you want fair?"

"I didn't mean to call you that."

"You did mean it. And that's the problem." He stepped back and looked at me. Like he was memorizing me. "Not today, Elena."

I bit my lips, and tried so hard not to cry. My eyes were brimming with tears. He turned around and walked to his room. Then he stopped.

"And Elena?"

"What?"

"Wear something longer next time. I can see everything." His voice was ice. "And stop calling me step-dad. You know what to call me."

He disappeared into his room and slammed the door. I just stood there, shaking, hating myself. Boxes were scattered everywhere. Then—

"ELENA?"

Mom suddenly called. My heart stopped.