Sex Stories Daughter นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The image of Donga rose in my mind like smoke. Tall, cruel, eyes like knives. The man who ripped the innocence from my childhood, who used me like a tool to cement his empire of fear. He never saw me as his daughter. Only property. Only leverage. And now he was the target. The only problem I had noticed with Lorenzo was that he was too straightforward and too headstrong while the man that should be my father was a sly snake. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, as if I could block out the storm in my mind. What if Donga played on that? What if he twisted it, the way he twists everything?

Being a single stepfather to a teenage daughter is probably one of the hardest things in the world. My wife Jennifer died tragically when our daughter Clarissa was still young and for the past few years working and raising Clarissa has consumed my life. I haven’t been able to get out and meet any women and the worst thing about that is that I have the sex drive of a rabbit stuffed full of aphrodisiacs. I have sacrificed any semblance of a love life or social life for my stepdaughter because she means the world to me.

Ever so slowly, I let it travel along the crease between her abdomen and right thigh until its inevitable contact with her clitoral hood. Rhada's gyrations became less rhythmic and more frantic. She was starting to come unglued. Her passion enflamed me. Both our bodies gleamed with the sheen of sweat. I felt my own release stirring. Moral crunch time. I wasn't wearing a condom and the pressure on me to bring daughters into my House lay heavily on my soul. One final bizarre frontier. "Rhada, have you named our daughter?" I rasped into her ear. I could still pull out and shoot my seed over her fantastic ass.

Besides, you're a girl, and she has a son to inherit the family business. "She doesn't care about you at all. Only someone as stupid as you thinks she treats you like her own daughter!" Blood trickled from the corner of my lips, but she was not finished. She picked up her phone and dialed my dad's number. "Connor! Bring that homewrecker here, or I'll push her off this cliff!" I turned my head away, not wanting to listen to her manipulations. However, she did not seem bothered and took a photo of me to send to my dad.

This guy, really is. Aliana sighed, putting her fork on her plate, she crosses her arm. “You know…” instead of answering Lancer question, Aliana started to say, the corner of her lip curling up in some mockery as she remembered the conversation she had with her daughter earlier. “Someone very ‘close’ to you, suggested that I leave you because you’re a scumbag and it doesn’t matter anymore what would happen if I really did it. So tell me Lancer,” she paused, taking the expression of her mate in front of her, “How could I possibly sown discord between you two, when your daughter already dislikes you so much that she came up with such suggestions?” she smiled, her dark green eyes twinkling.

My father’s jaw tightened. “Sofia is not some girl,” he said. “She has been a DeLuca for fifteen years. She is my daughter. Yvette may share my blood, but she was raised somewhere else and brought back every bad habit that comes with it. She has done nothing since arriving but turn this house upside down.” I said nothing. Kane mistook my silence for guilt. He strode to the bed and pointed straight in my face. “What, no act this time? Listen to me. I don’t care what name you carry. Sofia is the only real daughter this family has. You? You’re poison.”

“The Miami project has been losing money for three months. I will go there and fix it.” In my past life, my father took the trust fund my mother left me, and all of it ended up in Seraphina's pocket. When things got bad, I asked her for fifty thousand dollars. She laughed and transferred thirty thousand with a note that said her sister loved her. I learned my lesson, and I refused to make the same mistake again.

​ I lean against the railing, watching a car pass below, headlights splashing golden arcs across the wet street. My jaw flexes unconsciously. Something deep inside me is picking at the edges of memory, trying to connect dots that refuse to sit still. Chloe Quinn, Her eyes, Her tears, Her absence. I sink onto the couch and pick up her daughter’s file again. It’s pointless, but I do it anyway. Sophie Wells. Age six. Chest tightness. Mild arrhythmia. No father listed on the file. My chest tightens, the kind of pressure that shouldn’t be there.

"Ma'am, that young man is banned from the property. Your daughter gave me a direct order. She told me to make sure no calls or messages from him reached you. She said it was for the family's peace." The words hit me like a slap. So, he had tried. He did care. But my own daughter, my scandal, had built a wall between us. A hot, sudden anger flashed through me. "So, Leo really does care, but my scandal of a daughter is behind all this," I whispered to myself. I ended the conversation there, promising to deal with it after the event. But the anger stayed, a low burn under my skin.

“But he’s not invincible. Stay back, Sophie. Protect the girls. Watch for openings.” Darius’s smirk returned as he gestured toward the scattered papers. “Curiosity… greed… desperation. All human traits. Your father had them. And so do you.” He moved closer, and my stomach sank. “What does he want from us?” I whispered, voice trembling. Lucian caught my hand, grounding me. “Not just from us… from your father’s past. He wants something Dad protected. Something powerful. And he believes you have the key.” Darius suddenly lunged again, faster this time, aiming to grab one of the envelopes containing my father’s most sensitive documents. Lucian intercepted, and the struggle became a blur of motio