All Chapters of MY TABOO STEP DADDY : Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

[TRISTAN’S POV][MOSCOW. TWO MONTHS AFTER AURORA DEATH] The drive back takes forty minutes.I spend it with my hand on the window and someone's blood drying under my fingernails and the particular emptiness that comes after a night of doing necessary things. The city moves past the glass, lit orange and grey, Moscow at two in the morning doing what Moscow does, surviving itself.Petrov is dead. His two lieutenants too. It took four hours to get the information I needed and another twenty minutes to finish what the information started. I went alone because I needed to go alone, because some nights the only thing that cuts through grief is work, and the work tonight was the kind that requires no witnesses.Brain matter dried on my left shoe somewhere around midnight. I noticed it and didn't care.I smell like blood and whiskey and the particular smoke of a building I set on fire on my way out.Two months.Two months since Aurora, and I have not slept a full night or eaten a full meal o

[TRISTAN’S POV] [FLASHBACK — ONE YEAR LATER.]"A hookup?!"Yosef's voice bounces off the walls of the hallway like a grenade with no pin. I don't look up from the mirror. Just straighten my collar, tuck the cigar between my lips, and let him combust."Do you have a problem with that," I say.Not a question. Never a question with Yosef.He steps into the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight, wearing the specific expression of a man who wants to say fifteen things and knows he's only permitted to say one. His green eyes cut to the mirror, to my reflection, then away. That familiar hunger he thinks he hides.He hides nothing."He's practically family," Yosef says. "That's what you're not getting. This isn't some civilian, Tristan. This is—""My business.""It's insane is what it is."Amanda appears behind him. Seventeen years old and already capable of a glare that could strip paint. She has her mother's eyes and her mother's talent for making a man feel approximately two inches tall withou

[TRISTAN’S POV]He pushes back against my groin, grinding into me like he's trying to burrow through the fabric of my pants. "Raw. Hard. Rough. I want to feel it till I die. Because this is my first and last time doing this."Jesus fucking Christ.His first time.I can feel that information hit my bloodstream like heroin. This perfect, blonde boy who's never felt a cock inside him, asking me, a man he met ninety seconds ago, to take what's never been taken before.From his periphery, he catches a glimpse of my eyes. Gold. Glowing. Absolutely unhinged with want."If I kiss you, you'll bleed," I tell him, biting down on his earlobe hard enough to taste copper. "Your lips will swell so much you won't recognize yourself."He whimpers. Actually whimpers. "Then don't.""If I fuck your throat?" I lick the mark I just made, soothing and destroying simultaneously. "You'll lose your voice for a week.""You're proud," he grinds his teeth. "Show. Don't tell."I don't need to be told twice.My han

[TRISTAN’S POV] It's been two weeks since I married Delinda and Carlton has been avoiding me. Great. I don’t tease him. Don’t force. I act normal, act like i dont care even if im dying inside, because I want him to want me and will wait for him to break no matter how long it takes. Now he’s pretending to read. He has been on the same page for forty minutes. I know because I have been watching him from the doorway and he has not turned it once. He sits cross-legged on the bed in one of my shirts. My shirt. The grey one I left on the bathroom hook two days ago. It swallows him, dropping off one shoulder, hem pooling around his thighs. He did not ask to borrow it. He will not admit he took it. I will not say a word about it because watching him wear my clothes does something to my chest that I refuse to examine in daylight. "You're staring," he says without looking up. "I live here." "There are other rooms." "I like this one." He turns a page. Wrong direction.

[TRISTAN’S POV] His room smells like him: soap and cotton and something underneath that's just Carlton. Sun-kissed boy who's been avoiding me, who stabbed me, who can't stop staring at my body like he wants to devour it.I lock the door behind us."Tristan, what are you doing?" His voice is steady but his hands shake.I reach down and pull the singlet over my head. "What I should've done weeks ago."The shorts follow. I'm not wearing underwear; deliberate choice, deliberate message. My cock is already hard, the head flushed dark, the piercings glinting in the afternoon light.He stares at it like it's a weapon pointed at his chest. "Oh, you're not going to. I'm family now."The words are pathetic. We both know it."Doesn't matter." I move toward him, slow enough that he could run, fast enough that stopping me would require actual commitment to resistance."You're shameless.""I know, Baby.""Don't call me that, you bastard.""Alright, baby."He backs up until his knees hit the bed. T