Owned By My Stepdad Novels & Stories

His mum furrowed her brow, her face confused, staring at me, and my stepdad narrowed his brows down, indicating his rising anger. “Over my dead body!” My stepdad said, his voice firm, snapping Peter's excitement away from him. Peter's face turned from excitement to confusion. “You are not going to mate with this girl beneath you.” His father ordered him. “Why not?” Peter said, his voice lurking with confusion. “Because your father said so!!” His mother snapped at him, “How dare you accept this worthless thing as your mate! You are going to reject her and your engagement with Charlotte will hold!!”

Goddess, he was huge; it felt like he was claiming every inch of my mouth, turning me into his personal toy. Thoughts raced through my mind, wild and filthy. This was my stepfather-in-law, the Alpha-King, buried balls-deep in my throat, and I loved it. No contract, no revenge plot could touch this raw need. I wanted to own him like he owned me, make him beg, make him shatter. My pussy clenched at the idea, still slick from my earlier orgasm, aching for more.

I said, my voice dripping with just enough sarcasm to get my point across. He either didn’t notice or pretended not to, which was even more annoying. “Oh, by the way, no karaoke today? Your mom mentioned it. Said you had fun.” I froze, caught off guard. “She told you that?” “Of course. She was excited to see you doing something different,” he said with a smile, like he thought he was some kind of supportive stepdad already. I swallowed the irritation bubbling in my throat. “It was just a one-time thing.”

His stepbrother. Back then, his father had fathered a child with one of his mistresses and brought the same child back for his mother to take care of. His father never hid his favoritism toward his illegitimate son. When their father died ten years ago, he had left all the properties, including the Anderson Group, to his illegitimate son. But his mother was smart enough to bribe the lawyer to change the will in his favor, leaving his stepbrother with nothing. But recently, his stepbrother had come back as a CEO of a new company.

Three years since Mom died, and the house still feels haunted by her in the quiet moments. The way the hallway floorboards creak at night, the faint scent of her favorite candles lingering in the linen closet, the kitchen drawer with her old spatula still untouched. Jake—my stepdad—never changed any of it. He just kept the roof over our heads, mowed the lawn, showed up for everything even after I graduated. He never pushed to be more than the steady guy who married my mom. Never asked me to call him anything but Jake.

I nodded to myself, mentally confirming my plans, and adjusted my robe one more time before heading out to the pack grounds, where the occasion was set to take place. I arrived at the pack grounds and noticed that everywhere had been adorned with glass crystals and roses hung around giving the whole place an exquisite view. I looked around and noticed that the old hag my stepfather was already seated with the council elders. His hair was coiffed back and his face looked more wrinkled and haggard with the bushy smelly beard that covered his face. His cheekbones were saggy and his eyes were sinking into his skull, devoid of life and love. He stood up from his chair and held out his hand as I w

Jason paused at the door, his back still to her, before turning with a cruel glint in his eyes. “You chose me, and I did what I was told to do,” he said, voice low and cutting. “As for your family’s properties… they were never yours, Mother.” Stella’s eyes widened, a chill racing down her spine as she stumbled back a step, her hand groping for the wall to steady herself. “W-what are you saying?” she stuttered, fear thickening her throat. Jason’s smile sharpened, cold and knowing. He took a slow step closer, towering over her.

“Always, Daddy.” He freed himself thick, hard, already leaking and pushed inside me in one long, claiming slide. My back arched off the wall. The bump pressed between us like living proof. He fucked me right there in the alleydeep, steady, the wet slap of skin echoing off the bricks while cars hissed past on the main street twenty feet away. “Feel that?” he rasped, one hand sliding down to rub slow circles over the swell of my belly. “That’s your stepdad’s baby growing inside you while he fucks you out in public like the dirty girl you never stopped being.”

“But every time he touches you tonight, remember who really owns this pussy.” I returned to the reception flushed and leaking, smiling at Jack while my stepfather’s fresh load dripped into my panties. It was my fault. I was always wet for him. And even after saying “I do,” I still belonged to Stepdaddy.

Who never called, never wrote, never explained. That boy is a billionaire now. The papers call him Richie Moore. The photos show him in expensive suits at expensive parties with expensive women on his arm. He owns my mother's debt. Which means he owns me.