All Chapters of STEP-DADDY'S SIN : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

His Christmas brat POV: Jessa “I’m not doing Christmas this year.” I mutter it while tossing clothes into my red weekender bag, folding nothing, dancing in nothing but a thong and an old college tee that barely covers my ass. Mariah’s hitting her high notes through my speaker like she’s personally sick of my seasonal depression. The plan? Solo winter break. Just me, a few bottles of Moscato, and some emotionally stunted men on N*****x. Then the door slams open like a DEA raid. “Pumpkin!” I shriek, nearly twisting my ankle trying to hide my ass with a pillow. My dad barrels in, smelling like celebration and midlife crisis. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s holding a glass of something that screams expensive and unfiltered. “Guess what! Me and Kathy—” cue the violent eye twitch, “—we’re heading to Europe for the holidays. Surprise honeymoon! Paris, Rome, that place with the boats.” I blink. “Venice?” He points at me like I just unlocked a new level in a video game. “That’s the o

POV: Nick By the time night settles in, the cabin feels smaller. Dinner passes with forced normalcy. We eat at opposite ends of the table. She talks about nothing and everything. I answer in short sentences. I don’t drink. I don’t look too long. I don’t breathe too deep. When she thanks me for dinner, her voice soft, polite, I almost believe I’ve got this under control. She heads upstairs in one of my old T‑shirts. Way too big on her shoulders. Way too short on her thighs. No bra. Bare legs. The shirt clings to her chest like it knows better than I do. “Good night, Nick,” she says at the top of the stairs. I nod. “Night.” The door to her room clicks shut. The silence that follows is worse than noise. I stand there for a long second, then exhale and head for the shower like it’s an emergency exit. Hot water hits my shoulders. Steam fills the small bathroom. I brace one hand against the tile and let my head fall forward. “Get it together,” I mutter. But my body doesn’t liste

POV: Jessa He just sighs and holds the basket. Back in the truck, I cue the only song that matters. “Santa baby…” I sing, sweet and slow as the engine warms. “Slip a sable under the tree…” Nick’s jaw flexes. His hands settle on the steering wheel, tight. I sing louder. Breathier. “For me…” He says nothing. I grin and keep going. “Been an awful good girl…” I lick my lips, just to see if he notices. He notices. His grip tightens. Knuckles white. I can practically feel the tension radiating off him. His thigh muscle jumps. His jaw is locked. I lean back, legs spreading just enough to let the leather of my jacket fall open. “Think Santa takes bribes?” I murmur. His hand jerks just slightly on the wheel. “You done?” he mutters, voice low. “Barely started.” Silence. Heavy. Tense. Electric. He doesn’t say a word the whole drive. But I see him. I see the way his hand stays clenched, the way his nostrils flare when I hum the chorus again. I see the pulse ticking in his throat

POV: Nick I sit there, stone still, the book forgotten on the nightstand, blood surging straight to my cock like I’m a teenager again. Another moan. Thicker this time. Not loud, but deliberate. Pitched just enough to carry through the ceiling. Through the thin floorboards. Right into my fucking bloodstream. She wants me to hear. And it’s working. My cock is rock hard, pulsing, straining against my pants like it’s reaching for the ceiling. She’s upstairs playing with herself to the thought of me. Moaning my name. Making me the soundtrack to her orgasm. I sit there in silence, fists clenched, trying not to groan. Trying not to give in. Trying so fucking hard not to touch myself. And failing. *** I can’t lie there and listen to it. I’m on my feet before my brain catches up, moving across the room like I’m being chased. I shut the bathroom door harder than necessary and flip the light on, breath coming fast, chest tight. She’s doing this to me. She knows exactly what she’s doing. I

POV: Nick The snow’s still coming down, thick and heavy, like it wants to bury the whole damn cabin. I shove open the back door with one shoulder, step out onto the porch, and curse under my breath as the wind hits me like a slap. Firewood. We need more. The stack by the fireplace is down to three logs, and if I wait till morning, they’ll be frozen solid. The woodshed’s a hundred yards out. Just far enough to be annoying. “Where are you going?” Jessa calls from behind me. I don’t answer right away. Just grab my gloves and yank the hood of my jacket up. She appears in the doorway, swaddled in one of my flannels again—this one red and black, hanging open just enough to flash the tank top underneath. Leggings. Boots. That ridiculous beanie she found in the Christmas box with the words Sleigh All Day stitched across it. “The hell are you wearing?” “My snow-chic aesthetic,” she chirps, holding up her travel mug like a toast. “Where we headed?” “We’re not going anywhere. I’m going t