Stepdad Novels & Stories

stepdad. I stared at the wall separating our rooms, my breath coming in shallow hitches. I was twenty-one now, back from university for the holidays, but in this house, I was still the "smartest girl in the world" to him. Jordan had married my mom six years ago, stepping into the void my biological father left with a grace that was almost saintly. He was the man who had tied my shoes, the man who drove me to every dance, the man my friends at school whispered about with envious sighs.

He rises from the armchair and begins approaching me in that familiar, intimidating way. That’s old. “Oh, I’ve forgotten, Caden’s my dad,” I utter with sarcasm, shaking my head at him. He stops right in front of me and takes his time as he seems to study me attentively, then rasps in my face, “Stop… stop striving to reach the walls of my patience, or you will regret ever having a stepbrother.” “That’s old, don’t you know? I’ve regretted it since day one, asshole.” I push past him, moving toward my bedroom door.

Shit… we were definitely done for. ................................................................................................................................... “Bea, get up! You always wake up late. You’re going to be eighteen in the next few days, and yet you still have me waking you up like you’re a toddler. You won’t have me forever, and God knows what will happen when I’m gone.” I groaned as my mom ranted. “Calm down, Kate. Isn’t it too early for this?” my stepdad said, giving her a kiss. “You don’t always have to yell at her, you know. She’s the best daughter you could ever ask for,” he said, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “Good morning, B.”

My mom remarried a few months ago, and now there's this new guy in the house, Alex. He's not bad-looking for someone in his forties. Tall, with broad shoulders from whatever gym routine he sticks to, and this deep voice that rumbles when he says good morning, but he's my stepdad now, which makes everything weird. Mom's head over heels for him, always gushing about how stable and charming he is. Me? I try to keep my distance, and we barely talk beyond polite chit-chat at dinner.

I didn’t even realize I was kneeling until I was already at his bedside. “Hey, champ,” I said, my voice rough. “Dad,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. That single word hit harder than any blow I had ever taken. Thank God his grandmother was not in the room to hear him call me dad and clear her suspicions. The doctor cleared his throat. “We’ll keep monitoring him, but the danger has passed. This kind of early transition is unheard of. But he beat it.” I nodded. “Thank you.”

Ethan reaches out, his thumb grazing the dark, angry mark he left on my neck. A cold, satisfied smirk crosses his face. "Consider this your first lesson, Zora. My father wants a companion. I want a sinner. And you? You're going to give us both exactly what we paid for." "Better start thinking of a good lie, Stepmother," he murmurs, stepping back and reaching for his Scotch. "The sun comes up in four hours. And Arthur Reynolds likes to have breakfast together."

“I’m so sorry, baby. Go upstairs, freshen up. There are beautiful dresses in the guest room closet. Pick something nice and come down when you’re ready. I’ll introduce you to your new stepfather later, he’s been asking about you.” Stepfather….the word felt distant, irrelevant compared to the storm inside me. I nodded and climbed the wide marble staircase, each step heavier than the last. My body ached with exhaustion, but deeper was the hollow shame between my thighs, the reminder of all the nights I’d lain there, unsatisfied, wondering what was wrong with me. I pushed open the first door on the right, desperate for a bathroom to splash water on my face and hide for a moment. Steam hit me fi

Even asleep he looked commanding. My stepfather Sebastian. The man Mom married to give me fatherly love for after Dad’s painful death. The one who was supposed to be my daddy. Well, he is giving me fatherly love but in another way. If you know what I mean. I crawled onto the big bed like a shadow, my curvy body pressing against his warm back. My hard nipples dragged across his skin as I draped myself over him. Slowly, I slid one leg over his thigh, letting my soaked pussy grind against the hard muscle there. The friction made me bite my lip to stay quiet. I was dripping, my juices coating his skin as I rocked gently.

Which meant he was my new step-brother. I spent the next hour trying to scrub the memory of his hands off my skin, but it was pointless. By the time my mom knocked on my door to remind me about the trust fund signing, I felt like I was walking through a nightmare. "You look pale, honey," my mom said as we walked into the massive, glass-fronted lobby of Sterling Corp. She reached out to adjust the collar of my blouse. "Are you sure you're not coming down with something? And why are you dressed like a librarian?"

His thumb pressed against the pulse point under my jaw, feeling the frantic skip of my heart. "I am keeping what I paid for," he growled. "I spent three years playing the 'nice' stepfather. I listened to your mother’s drunken stories. I sat through your school plays. I watched you bring home boys who weren't fit to wash your car. I did it all because I knew that one day, the debt would come due. And I am a man who always collects." He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. The sensation sent a traitorous jolt of electricity through my body. I hated myself for the way my breath hitched.