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Todos los capítulos de MY TABOO STEP DADDY : Capítulo 101 - Capítulo 110

126 Capítulos

WRONG TERRITORY

(YOSEF'S POV)Twenty years since Tristan fucked me, and I still feel the ghost of his cock tearing into my hole. His breath-cutting grip on my neck. His sweat and rage. “Wider. Spread your fucking legs!” He'd snarled while pounding into me. Everything feels like yesterday. But yesterday is gone, isn't it? He said he used me. Said it was a mistake. But his body told another story back then. I knock back my gin. The heat doesn't compare to the furnace in my chest. Nothing compares. “More!” I shout over the thumping music, sliding my tumbler over the bar. “Stronger. Fuller. Give me the best you've got!”The bartender eyes my pistol on the bar and nods. “Very well, Yosef.”I told him, " No, Under Boss.’ ‘No, sir.’ In this part of the world, I'm just Yosef. A man with a broken heart. My glass is refilled in no time. Five shots, no ice. The way I like it. My wrist still burns from the chains Dakor used in strapping me. Still feel the Moscow cold. But what I feel even more is murder

I'LL BE WAITING

(YOSEF'S POV)I rise to my knees as Hikaru stalks forward with the grace of a God who has the world on his shoulders—dressed in an Armani suit with a tumbler of whiskey in hand. Kori straightens and taps his son on his shoulder. “It seems we'd have a feast, son.”Feast?As in me?!Never. I ain't no feast. Ain't nobody whore either. “Shoot me and get it over with,” I spit. “I ain't letting no Japanese bastards fuck me. I'm Yosef Ilya. The fucking enforcer of the Brotherhood. I ain't no bitch.”Silence. The laughter that comes next is roaring, threatening to knock the speakers from their stand. Kori and Hikaru cackle like I'm a joke. “What's fucking funny?!” I bark. “You?” Kori says, catching his breath. “I know old hag. That's why I asked.” I say without spite. Kori’s smile falls, a dark expression creeping to his face. I shif back once, twice, until I hit the settee. I try to stand. He pushes me back to my spot, boot digging into my shoulder. I don't push it away. Don't move

FATHER HATES ME.

(DECLAN'S POV)I wake up to the rhythmic sound of the monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep.The light is blinding, the smell of antiseptic sharp on my nose. I drag the first breath, and my innards scream. Like hot coals are buried in my gut. This isn't the warehouse. I don't think I'm in Moscow anymore, the air is too humid and dry. I observe the ceiling architecture. The wall panelings. I crane my neck, slow enough to look at my side. The pain in my gut intensifies. The commissioner's picture is plastered on the wall, not just that, but he's also handing me the sheriff's portfolio. My smile is bright, broad, a naive man about to venture into the criminal hub. I haven't lost Selene, then. Haven't known Harry. I didn't think Westdale was more than burglars and car hijackers. I didn't know how wicked the world was then. Just handsome and ambitious. See where it landed me. “Ahem.”I stiffen, ears perking at the sound. He coughs again, too forced, too deep. The pain subsides enough for me to

WHY?

(LYDIA’S POV—Third person limited)“You spot him, you signal me,” Lydia whispers to the cellar guard. “Don't fail me.”He won't. Mad-Bishop may be Pakhan, but Lydia is equally as dangerous as he is. Worse, even. He nods without meeting her eyes. “Godmother.”Lydia slips through the door without a sound. It closes behind her just as silently. Her footsteps are silent. She moves like a ghost, soundless even on the concrete, inside her enemy’s cell. Lydia hates that even now, chained, bruised, awaiting execution, Delinda is beautiful. Not just physically. There’s a magnetism that defies logic. Camilla had it too. Maybe that's why Tristan loved his sister so desperately. Maybe that’s why Lydia keeps coming back to this cell, knowing it’s betrayal. “Mad-Bishop returns,” Delinda says with a nonchalance that doesn't match her condition. “God-mother saves the day.” Lydia is few feet away from her, leaning on the wall with her arms crossed. Her thighs clenched involuntarily. Something sti

POISON

(TRISTAN’S POV) “Why?” Is the only thing I manage. My body hurts. My heart. Everywhere. My fingers are still slick from the guard’s blood. I can’t breathe. Can’t move. But somehow I manage to blink—slowly, desperately—willing this nightmare to fade away. It doesn’t. It’s real, happening before my very eyes. My Godmother kissed my enemy. Not just any enemy— my sister’s killer. The woman who brought hell to me in custody. The Jezebel of my miserable life. “I didn’t betray you.” Lydia clutches the hem of her gown. Too revealing for Lydia's usual modest style. Too expensive. Too much like something Delinda would wear. “Tris, please—”“No. Don’t—fuck!” I tumble, gasping, leaning on the doorframe for support. “Please, don’t say anything.”I don't remember collapsing. Don't remember Lydia running to me. But suddenly I'm on the floor, stitches spasming in my neck, staring at my palms like they hold answers. I try to read between the lines, searching for red flags I overlooked because I

I DON'T BELIEVE YOU.

[CARLTON’S POV]"MOM!" I bolt into the cellar, smacking the vial from her grip before she can drink it.The glass shatters on concrete, shards flying free. Mom gasps, lips parting to say something."Just shut up!" I pull her into my arms, cutting off whatever excuse or apology she was about to offer. Her scent hits me: rose water and that warm vanilla smell from the perfume she's worn since I was a child. It's still there, beneath the stink of this cellar. Beneath the fear and sweat. The scent of home.For one desperate moment, I let myself pretend. Pretend we're back in our living room. Pretend she's hugging me after a nightmare. Pretend Tristan doesn't exist, and she's still the mother who loved me unconditionally.The rashes blooming across her neck and shoulders shatter the illusion. Red, angry welts from the heat of this place. Evidence of her suffering.But I don't let go.I can't.I miss my Mom.“Carlton.” Her voice is soft, cuddly. “...You’re here.”My words choke on a sob. I

REHAB

[DAKOR’S POV]‘Wake up.’ The voice persists in my head. “Da!” I jolt awake, lunge for my Glock. My fingers scrape empty wood. I reach further. A hand grabs mine. His scent hits me before the blinding light does. I hiss, not from the light, but from the scent of antiseptic and the pain in my neck. Everywhere throbs. I love pain, not this type. Where—“Hospital.” His voice cuts through the haze. The fuck?!Blue eyes. Light and innocent, just like Mother’s. Ferrari. “Bastardo, pensavo che mi avessi lasciato.” Ferrari’s voice breaks with the fear I’ve abandoned him. I smile despite the pain in my neck. “E come potrei mai lasciarti, Pearl?”Ferrari wheels closer to hug me. Someone yanks him back. My only warning is his golden ring flashing in my periphery before his fist pummels into me. My nose crunches. Blood spatters on my upper lip. The pain registers hard. Godfather. “You should be dead.” Godfather snipes, voice dead. “Or better still, I strangle you with my own two hands.

DIDN'T I SAY NOBODY SHOULD TOUCH YOU?

[CARLTON’S POV]“I don’t have to.” I grimace as the Velvet Boys oil my body, comb my hair, grooming me for their Pakhan’s pleasure. “I don’t want to.” My heart pounds so hard I fear it might rip from my chest. The chandelier’s golden glow blasts into me like the sun. Everything feels so chaotic and hot. I want to vomit. I want to crawl out of my skin. Hell, I’d rather slit my throat than let Mad-Bishop touch me! The chain harness clinks as they strap it around my body. The G-string is digging into my ass like barbed wire, and these leather boots are too heavy. I look at the mirror. My reflection stares back at me. Oiled skin, chained chest, glittering under the chandelier like some obscene ornament. My blue eyes look fragile. But the rest of me? I look like a whore prepared for auction. Slave. That’s the word. I wince as they secure a leash to my neck. Fuck, when did I become a dog? And he my master? I need to kill that bastard fast. “I look like a slave!” My voice is shar

SUCK MY COCK. THAT"S WHAT YOU"RE GOOD AT.

[TRISTAN’S POV]Hugging?!Not just hugging, but their bodies are pressed tightly against each other. Amanda’s breast to his chest. Her thighs are literally on his cock. And the fucker let her?! I don’t care about shit family reunions! Don’t want to make amends! All I crave is to ravish him now. I left him for months. He got hurt. I’m not letting God come near him, let alone my daughter. The only hands I want to see around his body are mine! Only mine! “Didn’t I say nobody should touch you?!” I growl, stomping toward them. They break away like worker termites. Dread licks at their faces. “Daddy…” Amanda whines, darting away from Carlton. I love my daughter. Oh, devil, I do. But now? I want to bash her bones and make sure she doesn’t touch him again. And as for the fucker? He’s going to fucking pay. I warned him. Outlined the perils of going against me, but my little brat never ceases to push my buttons. “Your hands… You’re bleeding.” Amanda fidgets. “You should see Lydia—” Th

HIS TABOO STEP-DADDY!

[CARLTON’S POV]I’m going to die like a whore! I’m going to die with his cum splashed across my face! I’m going to die with Tristan’s cock in my throat!I hollow my lips and suck. I don’t need him. I want to save my life, simple. “That’s what you’re good at.” He groans, bunching my hair, and fucking my face. “Yeah, Bunny, like that—suck my cock!”I suck him as my life depends on it. Palms flattening on his chest, I bop my head, up-down, up-down. The rhythm is mercy. O can’t breathe properly. But at least I’m not choking to death. I taste copper on my lips. I taste salt. And something too shameful to name. His cock’s not fully healed. I can feel bits of dried flesh and blood gliding past my lips. I can hear him grunt both in pain and pleasure. Ugh. This is sick. My stomach rumbles with disgust. Just when I think I’d vomit, his load explodes down my throat. Thick. Syrupy-salty and sweet. It’s like I’m choking on butter, but I can’t swallow. “Oooh, Fuck!” Tristan’s hand leaves my h

ANTERIOR

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