Step Dad Stories Novels & Stories

“Deal. But you owe me every filthy detail. And if he hurts you, I’m coming for his tenure.” I laughed. We turned the corner together, my heels clicking softly against the tile, the memory of his voice still echoing in my ears. Tonight I’d meet my new stepdad. It was a wish I always prayed for, and I'm going to have it tonight. Finally, my mum will find love again. I went out of the school to collect the clothes I'd wear tonight, my mum personally ordered one for me. I was already running late for my next lecture, mind still half in how I'm gonna meet my stepdad, when the heel of my shoe caught on a loose tile in the corridor outside the literature wing.

"Though I guess it's bandages instead of motor oil these days." I practically leap into his bear hug, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and cigarettes. "I can't believe you're here." "Where else would I be, sweetheart?" He pulls back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Your old man never shut up about his baby girl becoming a hero." "Come in," I step aside. "I've got beer, and I could use some company." "Don't mind if I do." He follows me to the living room, settling into Dad's favorite armchair. "Been retired three years now, but I still remember every story your daddy told about you in that clubhouse."

I loved my mom, but I had a stronger bond with my dad, even before my mom was killed. I sat down in the other chair and listened to the story Dad was telling Noah, and recognized the story, as one he had always told me when I was a kid. It’s about a Lone wolf who never found his mate, and he was a very rare warrior, stronger than any other wolf ever existing. Even after Noah had fallen asleep, Dad kept on with the story, and I leaned back and listened to his voice while he talked. And I must have fallen asleep because I was woken up by him softly poking me.

Adrian’s phone rang at that moment, then he got up and said, “Give me a minute, please; let me quickly take this one.” Scarlett nodded as she watched him proceed to the hallway to take the call. She whispered a quiet “Fuck it. This is starting to piss me off.” She was still waiting for him when the door creaked open again, and he came in. Now wearing a very cold, blank expression. Then he started to speak; it felt like doing a recitation. “Like I said before, I don’t do young girls; they are inexperienced. I am getting married to your mom, and I will be your stepdad. Get yourself together.”

The drive is a little over three hours and when we get there it's dark out. Dad brought me here once. It was the place where he told me he met Mom. It was one of the things he did for me when he was sober. I sit at the spot where he said he spotted Mom crying. I don't remember what Mom looked like. I was three when she was killed, but I can imagine what my dad looked like trying to console her. Giant intimidating man, nervous at the fact that she was crying, trying to flirt to make her feel better. I'd witnessed his awkwardness several times when he was trying to be sweet. It's where I get my awkwardness from. Jay gets his assertiveness from our Mom. Or so dad would accuse him of. His go-to

Especially if the heavy, sick feeling in my gut is right. I know deep down that there is only one explanation. The legends of the Seven are little known, but well documented if one knows where to look. My father was told the stories by his father, and my grandfather was told the same tales by his father, and that is how it was for generations. Then, when I was maybe seven or eight years old, my father returned from the longest absence in my memory.

At the end of the day he's not the same person he was when we were young. "We weren't crazy rich or anything, but we had a nice life. Then one day the FBI kicked in our front door and took my stepdad to jail." "Holy shit." "Yeah, he and my mom were doing mortgage fraud together. I don't know all the details, but I guess my mom couldn't handle the idea of prison. Dad got thirty years if I'm remembering right, and after that it was Jero and me. He kept taking care of me, and as we got older, that's when things started to change."

"We won't have you around much longer before you head back to school. Why don't you tell us some stories about your summer classes?" That went better than I expected. You see, my dad is a great storyteller. I'm sure when he retold some of my little anecdotes from college to his co-workers, they came out much better than when I told the same stories. Still, I was able to be entertaining and informative. It made me smile when I could coax a laugh out of them.

Avie and I both nodded at what Dad said. Dad often talks about his past with Mom. And we have met many people that we have never seen, Patrick Sudalga being one of them. "I found out that he has another child," Dad promised. "Who?" Avie asked this time. "Harold Sudalga." Harold? I don't want to overthink but I can't think of anything else. Jizan was talking to a person named Harold earlier, I heard they are talking about not hurting anyone who is close to Jizan.

"Sneaking around with your brother like this. You need to learn a lesson." I expected a lecture, a punishment, but instead, he unbuckled his belt. My eyes widened as he pulled it free, not to whip us, but to toss it aside. His pants followed, revealing the outline of his erection straining against his boxers. "Jake, you think you can handle her alone? She's family. We share everything." Jake's grip on me tightened, a surprised chuckle escaping him. "You serious, Dad?" Stepdad nodded, shoving his boxers down. His cock sprang free—longer than Jake's, thicker, with a slight curve that made my mouth water despite the fear. "Dead serious. Now, pull out and let me show her how it's done."