Step Father Novels & Stories

My stepfather. My stomach clenched as I watched him speak to the officer, his expression unreadable. Missing person? I wasn’t missing. But somehow, I had a feeling that wasn’t the point.

Today was my father's wedding day. When I got off the plane in my princess dress, the first person I saw was a charismatic woman who stood out from the crowd. It was Brenda Sanders, who would soon be my stepmother. My father had chosen not to remarry all these years because of me. I was very happy for him when he finally met someone he liked. Everyone said that she was a renowned sculptor. Her work was beautiful and gentle, just like how she looked.

Now I'm lying on his bed, simultaneously patting him to sleep and trying to make the hardest decision I've ever had to make in such a long time– returning home. Only some thirty minutes ago my assistant had forwarded an email to me. My step father is dead and his burial has been fixed. I am required to show up for it; pay my last respects and I want to. Richard Steele has always been kind to me. Never condescending, overbearing or difficult. We weren't as close as a biological father would be with his own child because I never really saw him in that light but the few moments we spent together, I saw the effort he made to make me feel welcome in his home. He ne

We look like two people who are very good at not showing things. "How long have you been going to Marcus Chen's offices?" His voice is even. Quiet. The boardroom voice. I meet his eyes in the mirror. "A few weeks." He nods once. The elevator reaches the floor. The doors open. He walks toward his corridor. Takes three steps. Stops. Doesn't turn around. "He's your father." The words land flat and factual in the hallway. Not a question. I go still. "You knew." Also not a question. My voice is steady. I am holding it steady through real effort because underneath the steadiness something is getting very loud very fast.

I immediately looked away, my cheeks burning up. "Cut the bullshit. I doubt you haven't seen a dick in your life." He spat out. My gaze immediately snapped to his and I felt the same temper rising again. "You don't know anything about me. For your information, you're my stepfather, just reminding you in case you lost some of your brain cells on the way here. You shouldn't talk to me like this. Don't be a creepy pervert!" I was panting by the end of my tirade.

“Yes. I remember because my father told the person on the phone that everything had been handled and that nobody would connect them to what happened.” I press a hand against my mouth. For years, my stepfather has been part of my life, offering advice and pretending that he understands how much I miss my father. Now I am beginning to wonder whether his kindness has been nothing more than a carefully maintained lie. “Did your father ever explain what he meant?” “No. But a few days later, I overheard him talking about a will. He said your father had made a mistake by keeping the original somewhere nobody would think to look.”

Cain squeezes and my stepfather turns purple. "Don't kill him!" I shout, and Cain looks down at me. "You okay, baby?" "Yeah, Daddy, I'm okay." My stepfather looks between the two of us, and Cain tosses him to the ground. He coughs and spits as he tries to catch his breath. Cain stands over him menacingly. "She's mine now. You got that?" he growls, and my stepfather crawls back against the wall. "She's packing her bag and she's never coming back. I won't keep her from her mama, but I'll keep her from a piece of shit like you."

“I thought I might start by introducing myself to his father.” He smirked, just slightly. “Stepfather.” “Details,” I said, turning to face him fully. “Such fragile things. Like trust. Like bloodlines.” A flicker of something crossed his face, could it be approval? Curiosity? It was gone before I could name it. “Careful, Miss Virelle,” he murmured, stepping closer, so close I could smell the quiet heat of his cologne smelled of cedarwood and something older. “You’re playing a game where even the winners bleed.”

“You should go,” Stephan said, voice low and strained, even as his body stayed rooted in place. His eyes flicked down again—over the sheer robe clinging to my still-hard nipples, the soaked black thong barely covering my freshly fucked pussy. “This isn’t right. I’m your stepfather. I came here for… fuck, I don’t even know why anymore. Let me leave, Jade.”

“He really is my uncle.” He gave a low chuckle. “Is he now?” “Yes, Dad. But why are you in my room?” I asked, trying to change the topic. “No reason,” he replied smoothly. He released one of my wrists and moved that hand to the small of my back, pulling me closer. I held my breath as he leaned down and pressed his face against my neck, breathing me in. “Da—” “Quiet,” he whispered against my pulse point. He was my stepfather, for God’s sake. I should have shoved him away, screamed for help, and thrown him out of my room. Instead, my body went soft against his. It was as if some part of me recognized him, even while my mind fought it.