My Step Dad wants me pt2

His mouth was fire on my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below my ear, biting down hard enough to make me gasp and arch into him. That sound—raw, needy—seemed to flip a switch in Damian. The control he’d been clinging to all summer shattered like glass.

“Fuck,” he growled against my throat, voice gravel-rough. His big hand squeezed my breast harder, fingers pinching my nipple, twisting just enough to send a bolt of pain-pleasure straight to my clit. I moaned, loud and shameless, grinding my soaked panties against the bulge straining his pants.

He didn’t waste time. Both hands shoved under my tank, pushing it up roughly until it bunched above my tits. Cool air hit my bare skin, but then his mouth was there—hot, wet, sucking one nipple deep into his mouth while his fingers tormented the other. He wasn’t gentle like I’d dared him not to be. He sucked hard, teeth scraping, tongue flicking, until my hips were bucking off the counter, chasing friction.

“Damian… please…” I whimpered, fingers tangling in his short hair, trying to pull him closer.

He released my nipple with a wet pop, looking up at me with those gunmetal eyes blown black with lust. “Please what, little girl? Use your words. Tell me what that greedy little pussy needs.”

The dirty words from his mouth—his mouth that had always been so controlled, so careful—made me drip. I could feel the wetness soaking through my panties, slicking my thighs.

“Fuck me,” I begged, voice breaking. “I need you inside me. Now.”

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Not yet. You’ve been teasing me all summer with this tight body. I’m gonna taste you first.”

Before I could process, he yanked me off the counter, spinning me around and bending me over the cold marble island. My tank was still pushed up, breasts pressed flat against the surface, nipples aching from the chill. He kicked my legs wider, rough hands gripping my hips.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice thick. “Bent over like a good little slut, panties soaked through.”

I moaned at the degradation, pushing my ass back toward him. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my boy-shorts and ripped them down my thighs in one violent tug. The fabric tore slightly—I heard it—and then cool air hit my exposed pussy.

“Fuck, Harper,” he groaned. “You’re dripping. This cunt’s been begging for my cock all summer, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I gasped, face burning against the marble. “God, yes.”

His palm cracked against my ass—hard, stinging. I cried out, the pain blooming into heat that made me clench around nothing.

“That’s for teasing me,” he said darkly. Another smack, harder, on the other cheek. “That’s for swimming naked knowing I was watching.” A third, lower, catching the curve where ass meets thigh. “And that’s for walking around in these tiny fucking clothes like you wanted me to snap.”

I was sobbing now, not from pain but from desperate need. My pussy throbbed, empty and aching, juices running down my inner thighs.

Then his hands spread my cheeks wide, exposing everything. I felt his hot breath on me a second before his tongue licked a long, filthy stripe from my clit to my asshole.

“Oh fuck!” I screamed, legs shaking.

He didn’t stop. He devoured me like a starving man—tongue plunging into my hole, fucking me with it, then dragging up to circle my clit. His stubble scraped my sensitive skin, adding rough friction that made me see stars. One thick finger pushed inside me without warning, curling, finding that spot that made my knees buckle.

“So tight,” he growled against my pussy, vibrations sending shocks through me. “This virgin cunt’s gonna strangle my cock.”

Not virgin—not technically—but no one had ever filled me like I knew he would. I pushed back, fucking myself on his finger, begging for more.

He added a second finger, stretching me, scissoring roughly while his mouth sucked my clit hard. The wet sounds were obscene—his tongue lapping my juices, fingers pumping in and out, my moans echoing in the kitchen.

I was close, so close, teetering on the edge when he pulled away completely.

“No!” I cried, frantic. “Please, Damian, don’t stop—”

“Quiet,” he ordered, voice dangerous. I heard his zipper, the rustle of fabric. Then his cock—hot, thick, velvet steel—slapped against my ass. He dragged it through my folds, coating himself in my slickness, teasing my entrance.

“Beg for it,” he demanded, pressing just the head inside, stretching me open. “Tell me how bad you want your stepfather’s cock destroying this pretty pussy.”

The forbidden words sent me spiraling. “Please, Daddy,” I whimpered, the name slipping out unbidden. “Please fuck me. I need your big cock so bad. Ruin me.”

He snarled and slammed into me in one brutal thrust.

I screamed. He was huge—bigger than anything I’d taken—stretching me to the point of pain that melted instantly into blinding pleasure. He didn’t give me time to adjust. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to leave fingerprints, and he started fucking me like he hated me.

Hard. Deep. Punishing.

Every thrust shoved me against the counter, my breasts scraping marble, nipples raw and aching. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the kitchen, mixed with my broken moans and his guttural grunts.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, one hand sliding up to fist my hair, yanking my head back. “Taking my cock like you were made for it. This cunt’s mine now, Harper. Mine.”

“Yes,” I sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaking my cheeks. “All yours. Harder, please—”

He obliged, pounding into me relentlessly, balls slapping my clit with every drive. His other hand reached around, fingers finding my swollen nub, rubbing rough circles that had me seeing white.

“Come on my cock,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Milk me with this greedy pussy. Show me how much you love being fucked like a dirty little whore.”

That pushed me over. My orgasm crashed through me—violent, shattering. I screamed his name, walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses, gushing wetness that dripped down my thighs.

He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, prolonging the waves until I was shaking, oversensitive and begging incoherently.

Only then did he pull out, spinning me around to face him. My legs gave out, but he caught me, lifting me back onto the counter. My tank was still rucked up, breasts bouncing as he spread my thighs wide again.

“Look at me,” he commanded, eyes wild.

I did. Watched as he fisted his cock—glistening with my cream—and lined up again. This time he entered slow, inch by inch, letting me feel every thick vein dragging against my walls.

“So beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, gaze dropping to where we joined. “Watching this perfect cunt swallow me.”

He started moving again—deep, grinding thrusts that hit my cervix and made me gasp. His thumb pressed my clit, gentle now, building me back up.

We fucked like that for what felt like hours—slow then fast, gentle then brutal. He bent to suck my nipples, biting until I cried out, then soothing with his tongue. His hands were everywhere—gripping my throat lightly, possessive but not choking; pinching my ass; slapping my breasts until they were red and stinging.

At some point he carried me to the living room, laying me on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. He stripped fully then—pants gone, revealing thighs like tree trunks and that gorgeous cock standing proud, angry red and slick.

He knelt between my legs, pushing them back until my knees touched my shoulders, folding me in half.

“Gonna fuck you so deep,” he promised darkly. “Gonna fill this cunt up until you’re leaking me for days.”

He slammed back in, the new angle letting him bottom out completely. I felt him everywhere—stretching me, owning me. His pace was relentless, sweat dripping from his chest onto my breasts, mixing with my own.

I came again—harder this time—squirting around his cock, soaking his thighs and the rug beneath us. He groaned like it hurt, thrusts stuttering.

“Fuck, yes—drench me, baby. Good girl.”

The praise undid me. I clawed at his back, nails drawing blood, urging him deeper.

He flipped me onto my stomach, pulling my hips up until I was on all fours. One hand pressed between my shoulder blades, pinning me down while the other guided his cock back inside.

This position was animalistic. He mounted me like a beast, hips snapping, cock pistoning in and out with wet, filthy sounds. His balls slapped my clit rhythmically, building another orgasm fast.

“Gonna come again?” he taunted, voice strained. “Can’t get enough of Daddy’s cock, can you? Greedy little slut.”

I babbled yes, please, more—lost to sensation.

His hand snaked around, fingers plunging into my mouth. I sucked them greedily, tasting myself, moaning around them as he fucked me harder.

When I came the third time, it was with his fingers in my mouth and his cock buried to the hilt, my whole body convulsing.

That’s when he finally let go.

With a guttural roar, he thrust deep one last time, holding still as he erupted inside me. I felt every pulse—hot, thick ropes of cum painting my walls, filling me until it leaked out around his cock.

He stayed buried for long moments, both of us panting, trembling. Then slowly, gently now, he pulled out. I whimpered at the loss, feeling his cum trickle down my thighs.

He gathered me against his chest, carrying me upstairs to his bedroom—Mom’s bedroom, though it hadn’t felt like hers in months.

He laid me on the king bed, cleaning me tenderly with a warm cloth before sliding in behind me, big body curling around mine protectively.

His lips brushed my shoulder. “Sleep, little girl,” he murmured. “Tomorrow, I’m taking that ass.”

I shivered in anticipation, already wet again at the promise.