All Chapters of Don't Stop, Daddy: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

The house hadn’t changed much, but Sierra had. The marble floors still echoed too loudly. The air conditioning still pumped a chill that didn’t feel refreshing, just sterile. The lighting was still too perfect designed more for a lifestyle magazine than actual living. Orchids bloomed in crystal vases, untouched by human hands, because of course, Vanessa hired someone to care for them. But none of that was what made Sierra pause in the doorway with her suitcase in hand. It was Damien. He stood at the top of the staircase, framed by the soft evening light, one hand in the pocket of a tailored navy suit and the other loosely holding a tumbler of something amber and expensive. His expression was unreadable calm, but intense. Watching her. Not like a stepfather welcoming home his daughter, but like a man analyzing something he’d been waiting a long time to see. “Welcome home, Sierra,” he said, voice smooth and deep. She blinked once, tightened her grip on the suitcase handle, and forced

Sierra woke before sunrise.The house was still. The only sound was her breath, soft and shallow, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The memory of last night his note, his voice, his quiet command hung in the air like smoke, impossible to escape.No panties tomorrow.You’ll know if I notice.He hadn’t touched her.But he had already started owning her.Her fingers slipped under the covers, down between her thighs. She was already soaked. Every inch of her skin ached for what came next. And yet, a part of her still trembled not from fear, but from a truth far more dangerous:She was going to obey.She rose, walked across the room to her dresser, and hesitated in front of the open drawer where her underwear lay in neat rows cotton, lace, silk.She reached in.Then slowly pulled her hand back.Not today.Downstairs, the kitchen was bathed in morning sunlight. Her mother sat at the island, barefoot in silk pajamas, scrolling on her tablet. The air smelled of coffee and fresh grapef

Sierra woke sore and satisfied.She was still naked, her legs tangled in the sheets, her thighs sticky with evidence of the night before. The plug was gone he had removed it with care, whispering that she’d earned the privilege. His hands had worked her over with clinical precision, drawing pleasure from her body until she’d cried into the pillow.And then… he left.No kiss. No lingering words.Just silence and the distant sound of the door closing.She’d lain awake for hours, trying to slow her pulse. Trying to remember who she was before this started.She couldn’t.She didn’t want to.Downstairs, the smell of cinnamon rolls drifted through the air, along with the faint hum of her mother’s usual playlist. Vanessa was at the stove, hips swaying to Billie Holiday as she flipped bacon.“You’re up late,” she said over her shoulder. “Rough night?”Sierra nodded vaguely. “Headache.”Vanessa turned, her face filled with sudden concern. “Still?”“Just a little.”“Well, sit. I made something

The night was thick with silence. Damien sat alone in his study, the glow of his desk lamp throwing shadows across polished wood. His tie lay discarded, his shirt collar undone, and the glass of whiskey beside him was nearly empty.He should have been reviewing contracts. He should have been checking emails, aligning tomorrow’s meetings. But instead, his mind was tangled with images of Sierra her legs curled under her on the couch, the way she glanced at him with something like defiance, her lips parting just enough to suggest she knew exactly what effect she had on him.He ran a hand through his hair and swore under his breath. She was his stepdaughter. His wife’s child. He had no business thinking about her this way.And yet…The next morning, Sierra left for a coffee run with a friend. Damien had lingered upstairs, restless, prowling the hallway as though avoiding his conscience. He paused outside Sierra’s bedroom door, half-open, the pink glow of morning light spilling in.He shou