13 comments/ 129236 views/ 154 favorites The Stepfather Chronicles By: GirlintheMoon Volume 1: The Siege ______ A year ago my mother Ellen stumbled onto a real catch. Alexander Bennett was 33 years old, blonde and blue-eyed. He would have looked like an All-American man if he wasn't perpetually scruffy, if he didn't have such a quietly scornful personality, or even if he cut his hair a little. Instead he looked like the guy your mother warned you about. In my case, my mother married him. He softened her a little. Made her giggle with his cutting barbs towards her friends. She even blushed when he paid her a compliment. I knew he didn't mean any of it. He was full of shit. As the son of a well-to-do politician, he was expected to become a prominent member of society and marry a "nice" girl from a "nice" family. Since Alex was a dick, he gave his father the middle finger, invested his trusts into a few restaurants and became a wealthy restauranteur all on his own. Mom wasn't a nice girl, but she did come from a great family and she knew which fork to use. She was also excellent in bed, if I was to believe her numerous lovers after Dad left, and very beautiful. Alex met her one night in his most popular restaurant and must have decided she'd be fun to marry, mostly because she would absolutely let him do what he want. It didn't hurt that he could make fun of her on a daily basis and she wouldn't get it. Our relationship was... complicated. When I met Alexander I was instantly attracted to him, which was strange considering how I was into the alternative look at the time. Tattoos and lip piercings got me wet--not guys who, after a shave, could run for President. I'd also never thought an older guy who wasn't a celebrity was hot before. Mom introduced us and shockingly a thousand butterflies wept in my stomach. Then I noticed the sardonic glint in those blue eyes. His lips curled into something not quite a smile. His gaze swept up from my flip-flops, over the pink sundress I wore, and finally met mine. It felt like a challenge. It gave me chills, chills that I knew he saw and catalogued. He probably cherished them. "How sweet," he said, taking my hand. I knew there was something going on behind those eyes but I couldn't be sure of what it was. It was like that every time he looked at me. He'd utter some false compliment, some empty line of praise. Yet he was aware I knew he was full of bullshit. It became a game. How many times could he get me to roll my eyes? "You look like you belong running on the Swiss Alps," he told me one day when I wore my hair in braids, wrapped around the crown of my head. Another day I wore a red dress to go out to dinner with friends. He kept pulling on the hem as I ran around, getting ready. "If you go out in that, every man is going to try and tackle you down." "What are you talking about?" I asked, distracted as I slipped my feet into some black heels. He blocked my way to the front door and gave me a long look that made my toes curl. "You look like a naughty schoolgirl personified. You're every sick man's daydream come to life and out at night." I swallowed and stepped back from him. He lifted his eyebrows, like "see?", and disappeared upstairs. I changed my dress after that. And then whenever we were all together-- me, Mom, Alexander-- there was the strangest hum of tension between us. He'd converse with my mother but he would keep his eyes on me, watching me take sips of water or chew on bits of steak. I never realized there was a sexual undercurrent to all of this until one night when my friend Jackie pointed it out to me. "Um, your stepdad totally wants to fuck you." I coughed. "Excuse me?" She gave me a wicked grin. "Hello, he only eyefucks you every time you're in the same room with him." "We're always bickering," I defended, feeling uncomfortable. "Right," she laughed. "Foreplay." "Stop it." I smacked her with my pillow. "He's my stepdad." Jackie nodded. With a mocking tone she said, "Totally. Quite the paternal figure." "Fuck you." "I wish your stepfather would, but he's too busy fantasizing about you." I laughed it off then, but from that day forward it was aways in the back of my mind whenever we spoke, whenever he watched me pour milk or whenever we passed one another in the hall. I knew the full extent of his evil when he got my mother to pay attention to the boys I dated. "Your daughter is fond of slumming," he said one morning, buttering his toast. I didn't even get what he meant at first. Neither did my mother. "What?" "Slumming? Is this 1950?" I asked. Next he was going to start describing things as "swell". He smirked and bit into one corner. With his mouth full, he said, "Noticed her boyfriend. Looked like the guy who bagged my stuff last time I was in the supermarket." Mom merely snorted. The next week, however, is when the speeches came. When my curfew got tightened. I knew it was all his fault, and I couldn't figure out why he was torturing me. Mom began telling me that just because I was 19 didn't mean I was a real woman. That I didn't understand men. That I needed to be more aware of what I was doing and who I was hanging out with. This constant harping wasn't due to maternal love; she just didn't want to have to look into the eyes of all her friends whose daughters were either in Yale or married and tell them I got knocked up by "one of those boys", AKA the boys I typically dated. If a guy with a fancy pedigree hung around me, she'd likely hide my birth control. I was currently grounded because I went on a few dates with a guy of questionable character and an even murkier family name. Ellen didn't want a guy like that sniffing around me. When I came home one day at dawn, she was shockingly waiting for me in the kitchen. She was dressed for tennis with Jackie-O sunglasses on and a huge mug of coffee in front of her. Calmly she announced, "You're grounded." I could have innocently said, "What do you mean- I've been home this whole time!" or, "Please, Ellen," and stalked to the fridge for some OJ. Variations of such protestations had worked in the past. But she was getting desperate for me to transform into a Stepford Daughter, and she had really caught me off guard by being awake before noon. I underestimated her will for making me as miserable as she was. "You can't ground me. I'm 19!" I eventually sputtered. Mom smiled almost kindly. That was eerie enough. "And you still live under my roof." "This is so ridiculous! You've never bothered to ground me before." She stood and plucked at her white teeshirt, her red nails clicking together in a way that set my teeth on edge. "Well, you could always move in with your father and see how you like it there." Then she tsked. "Oh, wait. He wants nothing to do with you. How could I forget?" Did I mention my mother was an unbelievable bitch? Still, I knew she was being influenced by Alex. I glared at him whenever I saw him, pissed he was fucking up my life. He'd just grin, or laugh to himself. One day I was swimming in the pool, daydreaming as I slipped through the water. I rolled my eyes behind my thick sunglasses when I spotted Alexander walking toward me in white swim trunks that looked too good against his tanned legs. He carried a newspaper with him, pointedly flipping it open once he collapsed on one of the loungers. Like I wasn't worth a "hello", like he hadn't paralyzed my social life, like every time he stared at me with that foreign something brewing in his eyes meant nothing. It annoyed me. He was messing with me and enjoying it, and I couldn't do anything about it. Except one thing. I smirked as I pushed my body up with my arms. Thousands of droplets skipped down my skin, and I could feel Alexander's eyes following each one's path. The newspaper was lowered onto his lap. His sunglass-covered face was looking in my direction and I knew he was watching. I stood and grabbed my towel, running it over my hair. My breasts lifted with the effort, bouncing with each rigorous rub. I shivered as a nice breeze swept across my goosebumps. My nipples hardened automatically, a combination of the wind's doing and the illicit excitement from trying to tease my stepdad. I knew my nipples were popping out against the pink material of my bikini. The fabric's color might just have been light enough to slightly make out the darkness of the nipples underneath. He deliberately put his newspaper down. He wasn't even hiding the fact that he was drinking in my every movement. I couldn't hold my smile in anymore, so I sat in the lounge chair next to him. I eyed my suntan lotion, debating whether or not to put some on... or better yet, to ask him for help. But I knew that was too obvious and he would most definitely laugh in my face. My head reflexively snapped towards him when I felt his warm and rough hand smack down on my thigh. He'd taken his sunglasses off and was staring hard at me. "You have no idea what you're doing. I highly advice you to cut it out." My mouth dropped open in false astonishment. "I have no idea what you're--" "You will if you try to fuck around with me anymore." I started shaking. It was one thing to play around with him, but quite another to provoke him into actually touching me. So he always commented on what I wore, and maybe he thought I was pretty, but I could definitely sense that I'd crossed a line somehow. For the first time since I'd met him, I was genuinely afraid of Alex. My eyes unconsciously slid down and saw the long hardness of him pushing against his swim trunks. My eyes jumped up to his in shock. I knew I was putting on a show, and I'd aimed to make him uncomfortable but I didn't think I'd be capable of making him hard. That was just... wrong. The confidence in his face didn't even waver, even after seeing the surprise and uncertainly in my own. There was a predator-like quality in those eyes gazing back at me. Something like a promise glittered in them. A terrifying promise that I fantasized over every time I touched my clit after that afternoon. ___ Because of Mom's new quest into making me a respectful member of our ridiculous society, I was a lot more careful sneaking back into our house whenever I went out. The last thing I needed was to be shut up forever in our house, under Alex's scary gaze and stewing in whatever brewed between us now. Weeks passed and, though we kept dancing around one another, Alex and I never danced that close again. Mom was more drugged up that usual, hardly more aware of when I was home than when I wasn't. I figured the whole "grounded" idea was in the past. I knew I still had to be on guard, that Alex was like a tiger, poised and ready to strike at a moment's notice even if he appeared to be relaxed and lounging. He always had an alertness in his eyes that terrified me as much as it fascinated me. But I grew sloppy. Cocky. One night I wasn't so careful sneaking back in and everything changed forever. _____ "Melanie, wake up. You're home." Bright light burned into my eyes. My dizzy mind realized it was the overhead light in the car. "Ugh." My friends laughed and I gave them the finger. I wished we could have spent the night at the bar, dancing and drowning in vodka. Alas the bars closed and I had to get back to Mommie Dearest and Humbert Humbert. So I let my friend shove me outside, teetering drunkenly on the street. "Call me tomorrow, hooker!" Jackie shouted. Then my friends sped off, leaving me behind in the cool September night. My heels stuck in the grass as I slowly made my way to my bedroom window. It was 4am and I was positive Ellen was in an Ambien coma. But where was Alex? It was that thought that sent chills up my spine. I hauled a deck chair beneath my window and hopped on it, nearly falling in the process. Thankfully I swallowed my scream and planted my heels in a much safer stance. But when I went to open the window, it wouldn't budge. Puzzled, I kept yanking at it. There was no way in hell it could be locked; in my buzzed state, I was confident it was just stuck. When it finally slid up, I grinned and swept the curtain aside, tossing my purse in. I pulled my body up and fell onto my carpet, giggling a little to myself. "I decided to let you in. More fun this way, I think." Fuuuuuuuuuck. I got up and turned, cringing at the sight of fucking Satan himself. Ice cold dread rolled through my stomach when I looked into those merciless blue eyes. "I just--" "Got back from partying," he interrupted. "I can smell the booze from here, Melanie." His eyes scanned me from head to toe. I fought hard not to tremble under his stare. I lost when I noticed his gaze catching on my breasts beneath my tight red dress, my long legs and my parted glossy lips. My stepfather was checking me out again, and somehow this time felt more purposeful and direct than the day at the pool. The more disturbing fact was that I liked it. I knew I was wet and I could feel the pleasurable pain of my nipples hardening and rubbing against my bra. I just hoped he couldn't spot their turned on state. The jig was up, however,when his eyes froze there. His nostrils flared and his whole body became tight. He definitely noticed. Nothing escaped Alex's attention for long. He finally looked back at me. "What are we going to do with you? Your mom explicitly grounded you. She'd be crushed to find out you disobeyed her orders." He smirked. "And worse, that you'd been drinking underage." I snorted. I couldn't help it. Alex's eyes narrowed on me. "Something funny?" "You know she doesn't really care, Alex." He came closer and I gulped. A muscle jerked in his cheek. "She feels like caring right now." His breath was hot and blowing my hair away from my face. Then his gaze zoned in on the slim spaghetti strap on my right shoulder. His hand lifted to pluck it. He smoothed it down again, letting his fingers graze my skin. "Which makes me care right now. Your juvenile bullshit is blowing back on my life, Melanie." His voice went soft. "That is unacceptable." I inhaled, trying to ignore the spicy smell of him, his rough fingertips, the warmth of his breath. "How the hell is it blowing back on your life? What I do has nothing to do with--" "How it's messing up my life is irrelevant. It shouldn't be impacting it, period." "Leave me alone," I snapped. I cringed a little when I heard myself; I sounded every bit like the immature 19 year old I was. "What would your father think of you? Out dressed like a slut, smelling like booze and some dipshit's cologne?" he asked, obviously hoping for a reaction. And he got one. I inhaled sharply, tearing my wrist from his hold. I tried to shove him away but he was too strong. He pressed against my body until my back was against the door. "Let go of me!" "Nope." He pushed his knee between my legs and I felt his hard cock against my thigh. Our eyes met at the same time. He didn't even have the grace to look surprised, or embarrassed, or even a little afraid. He just gave me a look as challenging as ever. And I didn't think it was imagination when I felt him thrust against me a little. Pervert. "I knew you were a scumbag," I ground out. "And I knew you were a smart girl." I pushed against him but he wouldn't budge. "Let me go." "Nope," he said again. "Not until I've fucked the brat out of you." I blinked, not sure if I heard correctly. Then he moved purposefully, sliding his hips until his cock aligned with my pussy-- which didn't have the same hearing problem as I did. It was wet and ready. I could practically hear the wetness of my lips separating and rejoining every time he carefully slid between them--even through my dress and his pants. "Mom will wake up," I threatened. He gave a low laugh from down his his throat and pressed his lips against my cheek. "You know she won't. She's... heavily sedated." "I'll tell." His finger skimmed down the side of my face, across my jaw bone, until it settled in the hollow of my throat. "We both know you won't. But please keep on saying so if it'll alleviate some of the guilt." His grin was toothy. "Plus... it's kinda hot." "How can you be so fucking cocky?! I'm 19! I'm your stepdaughter! I loathe you! How the fuck can you be so sure I won't tell Mom, or call the police, or chop your dick off in the night?!" Alex shifted away from my body only to grab onto my hair. He pulled it so hard that tears reflexively came to my eyes. "Let's stop pretending. You want to fuck me as much as I want to fuck you. You can keep up with this Little Bo Peep slash Heidi slash fucking Shirley Temple charade you've got going--though we both know you're my little whore--if it gets you wetter. But I'm done with the Q&A portion of the evening." He kissed my neck and left his lips there for a few heartbeats. "You and I are the same, you know. We both see the bullshit in this world." "I see your bullshit," I panted, turned on and pissed off. His eyes met mine. "Same difference." I watched him as he watched me. He lifted the bottom of my dress up to my stomach. Without even directing it to, my hand reached over to bunch the material up so it was out of his way. He offered me a tilted smile. His other hand dipped into my panties with no preamble. Alex's hand found me wet, of course. He grinned when his fingers swept through my slick lips, though I'm sure my arousal was no surprise to him. And then he was on his knees and I was staring down at his blonde head. I felt my panties slip down my legs and my body sunk into the door. He pressed his lips against my soaked pussy, breathing heavily. I pushed my shoulders back and a slow spasm of pleasure rolled through my body, lifting my hips into his head and pushing his lips harder against my wet flesh. "You're a filthy girl, Melanie," he murmured against me. I opened my mouth to protest that he was the filthy one, that he was the one that started all this, but no sound would come out. He'd already begun to fuck me with his tongue, fast and deep and it was so fucking wet. My shaking fingers slipped through his hair, pulling him harder against me. He moaned and I nearly fell to the ground at the sensation. My knees gave out a little but I couldn't fall; his strong arms held me up by the backs of my thighs as he made me his meal. Then he took one of his hands away to push two fingers into my cunt. I cried out, grinding against his hand. I rode it hard, desperate for the violent orgasm I knew was coming. "My naughty girl," he whispered. "Such a bad girl, letting her stepfather fingerfuck her. Bad, bad girl." "Oh, God," I pleaded. His fingers picked up speed and his mouth returned to me. He laved my clit until I was crying out incoherently. He said dirty things against my pussy. "You gonna let me fuck you? Hmm? Gonna let me stuff you with my thick cock?" The fiery pressure built and built until suddenly white hot ecstasy jolted from my cunt all through every atom in my body. I was shattered once, twice, three times until I was put back together with his lips kissing up my body. He'd stepped out of his pants at some point and I could feel his slippery dick running up my thigh. "I'm going to fuck you so hard and so good that you're never going to be able to come without thinking about me." His cock pushed at my pussy just as he nibbled my nipple. His teeth snipped me a little and I shuddered. He grinned and wrapped one arm under my ass, hoisting me up between his body and the door. "This is going to be good." He shoved his cock into me in one long, slow glide. My eyes widened with every inch he forcefully pushed in. I was panting heavily by the time he bottomed out, and his blue eyes were hooded and filled with a quiet pleasure. The Stepfather Chronicles Ch. 02 Volume 1 Chapter 2: The Agony and the Ecstasy The next morning I was more than a little lost. With no other option, I climbed downstairs and faced Alex at breakfast. He didn't react when I walked into the kitchen. He drank his coffee and only murmured good morning, but every cell in my body hummed with his presence. I knew my cheeks were burning. Mom must've picked up on some weird vibes because she purred and flirted with Alex to excess. He gave her a few smiles, answered a few questions, but he seemed to prefer being quiet. This wasn't unusual in the morning; like me, Alex was a night owl. But I figured this morning would be different, considering less than twelve hours before he'd been inside me. It wasn't until I sat down and nearly knocked over my bowl of cereal that he paid attention to me. "OJ?" he asked, holding up the container with a grin. "No thanks." Mom slid her glass towards him. "I'll take some, honey." He poured the juice, keeping an eye on me. "You should have some of the bacon I made. Get something hot in your stomach." I choked on my cereal. "God, you have the same table manners as your father," Mom said with disgust. I wiped the milk from my lips, ignoring Alex's surreptitious lick of his own lips. I opened my mouth to shoot something back, but Alex had the gall to touch my hand. "Don't choke. Just swallow it all down before you talk." Frustrated in about as many ways as you could be, I gathered up my shit and threw it in the sink. "You didn't finish your food," he said. "I'm not hungry." "That's an interesting top, Melanie." I was frustrated and confused by the subject change. Sighing, I looked down at the plain white blouse I wore. Nothing seemed amiss to me. "Ellen. Tell your daughter I can make out the color of her bra through it. She definitely shouldn't be going out in public like that, don't you think?" Mom blinked her heavily-mascaraed eyes. "Looks fine to me." Alex shrugged. "Whatever you think, sweetheart." Mom tapped her red nails on the table, a sign she was longing for a cigarette. Alex made her quit when they got married, but I caught the whiff of nicotine off her now and then. "Where are you going?" she asked, as if she were reading from a script. "To Jackie's." I needed to escape this stifling house. My body was sore and I was exhausted. Being around Alex like this was suffocating. I needed to think. I knew, however, I wouldn't be able to tell Jackie. She joked about my stepfather wanting me, and maybe she even believed it, but she wouldn't look at me the same way if I confessed. I could hardly look at myself. "Are you guys going out?" I rolled my eyes. "Probably." "Then maybe you should change your blouse." Alex smiled victoriously. The fucker. "Mom, I--" "I'll give you a fifty if you just go and put a fucking sweater on! God, almighty, the two of you drive me nuts sometimes." I groaned and ran upstairs, tearing off my blouse in fury. I pulled out the most hideous sweater I could find and shoved it over my head. There was a knock at my partly opened door and I knew without turning it was Alex. He stalked over to me, ignoring my glare, and plucked at the fabric of the sweater. He laughed breathlessly. "That's better." "Fuck you." His eyes hit mine. "Where are the two of you going?" "The mall," I answered automatically. He cupped the side of my jaw. "Where are you really going?" "A pool party," I said, not knowing why I was telling him the truth. He kissed me before I could object. My head moved back but his mouth chased mine. He plunged his tongue inside and ran across my own. His fingers were already massaging my breasts. It shamed me that I was greedy for his cock so soon after fucking for the first time. I was desperate to get on the bed and do it all again, except go slower this time. When Alex pulled away from me, I could see the same desire in his eyes. "Tonight." "What?" "I'm going to have you again." "Alex--" "I'm going to fuck you so good." "Wait, Alex we--" "You're not going to ever want another guy's cock inside you.' "Alex!" Realizing I was shouting, I lowered my voice and hissed at him. "You know we can't. Not again." He caressed my cheek and pushed his thumb against my lower lip. He appeared to be fascinated by the way my lips parted. "We can, and we will. Do you really think we're going to be able to go back to the way we were before?" "No," I admitted. "But Mom..." "Don't think about it. Block it from your mind." That infuriated me. "How can you say something like that?!" "Life isn't easy," he said calmly. "You've gotta take advantage of the small moments of pleasure. Trust me." "You're a hedonist." His eyebrows lifted. "I'm impressed you know that word." "Fuck you." He laughed and walked towards my door. "Tonight, Melanie. No later than 10." "Don't you love her even a little bit?" Alex looked at me over his shoulder. "Don't you?" "She's my mother." I swallowed. "I must." "I'm her husband, and I don't." He smiled when I flinched. "Would you prefer me to say I did?" "I don't know. I feel bad." He turned around and said, "You'll get over it," before disappearing down the hall. _____________ I didn't go to the pool party. I called Jackie and told her I couldn't make it. She knew something was up but I didn't have it in me to come up with a lie. I promised I'd tell her about it later, rushing her off the phone. Instead of going back home, I went to the mall and wandered around like a zombie. I tried to talk myself out of doing anything more with Alex. My mother sucked, and I knew he didn't love her. In reality, I didn't think she loved him either. She was more obsessed with the idea of Alex, the allure he brought to her life, than she was with himself. Even I had to admit I didn't know him well. When I went home that night, Mom was already passed out. Alex sat in the dark living room, reading a book beneath a faint lamp. He shut it and looked up at me. There was no trace of a smile on his face. "You have a decision to make. Do I go to bed, or do I wait for you?" he asked quietly. This felt like one of the most important moments in my life. I could never go back after this. With a thrill, I knew I'd already turned my back on being a good, respectable girl the night before (if I ever had hopes of being one). I took a breath. "I guess we should go into the backyard. She won't hear us there." Alex didn't smile, but there was a shift in his expression. I knew he was pleased. There was also an intensity there, a grim satisfaction. A sort of happy resignation--but a resignation, all the same. For a second I wondered if he hoped I'd stop this. Then he stood and came over to me, displacing my shirt so he could kiss my neck. "Let's go." That night would be the catalyst for one of the most exciting, revolutionary periods in my life. We fucked through the summer. We got to know each other inside and out in the fall. Somewhere along the lines I lost touch with friends. I stopped going out. Like a starving beggar, I lingered around waiting for the scraps of attention Alex sporadically showered on me. In the winter, however, the world slowed down. The urgency of our beginning fizzled into a wonderful familiarity; the closeness and dependance I began to feel towards him terrified me. It wasn't until December that I feared losing him. I had this feeling of doom hovering above my head, even when I felt happy with him. If he felt the weight of our bond, the shift in our feelings, he didn't show it. Like everything else, it would take a precipitous event to make him show his hand. I feared that moment, knowing Alex as I did. He would act rashly. His impulsivity could mean our end. He might send me away, or worse, he might keep me around and cease touching me. I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen. It wasn't as if he could pick up and run away with me. We didn't have any place to go, and I didn't know if I wanted that. Life with Alex would always be unstable. I'd never be positive about what was going on behind those impassive eyes. He'd forever be domineering and more than a little selfish. It was only at night, after we'd fucked and I was cold and alone in bed, would I admit to myself that I'd take it all if I could have him near me forever. ___________________ It was freezing outside, and I could see my breath puffing in the air as he fingered me. His fingers were thick and torturing. I couldn't see his face-- he'd buried it in my neck-- but I could feel his hot mouth panting against my skin. Imagining the painfully focused expression I had grown to know on his face made me even wetter. "I wanted to do this all night," he moaned. My head smacked against our house as a throbbing wave of arousal slid through my body. "Kiss me." Alex pulled back and stared at me. "Beg me for it." "Please," I said instantly. I was too far gone to play games. "I need your tongue." He stepped away and I groaned. It was so infuriating when he was in control, which was almost 99% of the time. Then he knelt and shoved my jeans down to my thighs. My soaked pussy was released to the frigid nighttime air. It blew across me and mingled with his warm breath. I couldn't hold back my groan. It must have been too loud because he slapped my pussy, making me bite back a shriek. "I warned you that if you couldn't be quiet, we wouldn't be able to have fun." I smiled and wound my fingers through his hair. He gave me a small grin. Then his lips were on me and his tongue snaked through my soft flesh, fucking it with feverish enthusiasm. It felt delicious but I wanted to come with his cock inside me. I tugged at his hair, tried to pull my hips away from him, but he wouldn't release me. He pursed his lips and sucked at my clit. Foreign sounds rose up my throat. Only then did he stand and shove his cock inside me. A moment later I was shuddering, coming all over his cock. He pounded me relentlessly, smacking his hand over my mouth when a tiny scream escaped my lips. Then he slowed his thrusts. I felt his warm cum flooding my pussy and tightened around him all over again. He slipped out of me, wiping his slick cock against my thigh. The filthy gesture should have repulsed me but... God, it sent another frisson of pleasure through my body. He yanked up my jeans and made sure I was presentable. I was no help; I rested against our house, too relaxed to move. "We gotta get back in," he whispered, zipping up his own jeans. "We've been gone too long." "Why are you so worried? You said Mom was passed out." Alex smoothed back his hair. "Ellen hasn't been taking her sleeping pills lately. I think she knows I don't spend the night with her." He stroked my face. "She has no idea I'm fucking her daughter, thank God. She'd kill us both." A pang shot through my heart, not for the first time. There was no love lost between us, but even I knew the sin I committed was the worst thing I could do to her. I'd never seen my mother so rejuvenated. Alex-- being the stunning, dashing husband who was six years younger-- gave her a happiness I wasn't sure she'd ever known. And I was stealing it from her. Almost every night I took her husband inside of me, and every morning I smirked behind her back. Sometimes I still had his cum inside me. It was fucked up and utterly twisted. What was even worse was I was falling in love with him. That was by far the stupidest thing I could do. Sometimes I saw a reverence in his eyes as he licked my wetness from his fingers, or when he occasionally helped to clean me up after our fuck sessions. But I knew Alexander, and I knew that nothing tethered him to this earth. He enjoyed being free, to have the ability to say "when". I didn't think he was capable of falling in love. I told myself so every night when I finally went back to bed. Then by morning I convinced he could love me, too. He was just so interested in everything I did. He listened to me. He worshipped my body and treasured my love-laced whispers. And I knew how dangerous it all could be. The woman sleeping upstairs, the juices leaking down my thighs, were plenty of evidence. As he stared back at me, I thought for the millionth time since we first fucked a month before that we had to end it. He read the emotions likely all over my face and kissed the tip of my nose. "Stop worrying so much, Melanie." "We have to stop." He pulled at the ends of my hair, feigning distraction. "I can't do that." "We have to. The deeper we get into this the harder it will be when we have no choice but to stop." Alex shut me up with a kiss. After he thoroughly made me speechless, he moved back and took my hand. "I don't want to stop. You don't want to stop." "We can't keep going on like this, sneaking out at 3am to fuck in the backyard." He lifted an eyebrow. "Why not?" I was annoyed, and got even more frustrated when I noticed I was amusing him. "This is serious, Alex. We're gonna get caught. People always get caught." He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I kept going. "What are we going to do? Are we both supposed to be satisfied by hiding?" He palmed my pussy through my jeans. I squirmed, but I was unable to tear myself away. "I'm very satisfied." I hated when he acted like this was no more than getting off. I didn't feel that way, and the moments of tenderness he showed hinted he didn't, either. "Alex, please--" "Alex? You out there?" We both froze. Mom was up and looking for her husband, who currently had his hand on my cunt. He bolted away from me and straightened his pants. "Yeah. Just needed some fresh air." Mom popped her head outside and widened her eyes when she spotted me standing there. My heart pounded and I knew I must've looked terrified. A stupid thought flashed through my mind; I couldn't remember the last time I saw my mom without makeup. She looked so vulnerable, so young beneath the floodlight. "What are you two doing?" "Talking, Ellen, Jesus. Melanie couldn't sleep and saw me pacing out here." Usually Mom backtracked when she knew Alex was exasperated with her. But she must've sensed the crackling air between us and she wouldn't be distracted. "Melanie, go to bed. Right now." She hadn't used that tone with me in years--not since Dad lived with us when I was a little kid and she had no choice but to parent me. I obeyed immediately and headed for the door. She stood in the doorway, not moving as I passed her. I could smell her perfume, feel her warmth. The guilt turned my stomach. Her eyes didn't move from my stepfather. I waited in the kitchen for a few minutes, trying to eavesdrop. There was no noise. My bedroom looked out over the basement, so I frantically ran upstairs to peer out into the dark yard. I saw shifting bodies in the moonlight. The dim floodlight shed just enough light on them to make out my mother and stepfather fucking. I barely made it to the bathroom, puking so hard I couldn't breathe. As I gagged over the toilet, my mind flipped through painful snapshots. Alex grunting, Alex fucking me, Alex laughing with me, Alex holding me. I thought about how Alex's dick probably still had some of the juices from my pussy on it and a fresh wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. My body finally had nothing left. Even then, I gagged hopelessly a few more times, my body not ready to convey how disgusted I was. They hadn't come back in the house yet, and I couldn't bring myself to check on them again. Exhausted, heartbroken, shattered, I slipped under my covers and cried silently until I fell asleep. _______ The next morning my eyes somehow opened. I was still alive, even though it felt like my entire world was over. I was horrified by what I'd done, how my life had boiled down to this moment. I staggered into the bathroom, letting the boiling hot water wash traces of my stepfather off me. Was he next to her in their bed, kissing her and offering the same empty promises he made me as I washed? Part of me played Devil's Advocate. Maybe he had to have sex with her to placate her. Maybe she was a little too suspicious, and he wanted to distract her. I wouldn't know until I see him again. That glimmer of hope cheered me up a tiny bit. I walked into the kitchen, desperate for some hot coffee. "Good morning." I nearly dropped my mug. My mother sat casually at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. Her makeup was on point, again, and the dress she wore was beautiful and golden. She looked composed... and ready to strike. I looked around, hoping to spot Alex. She realized what I was doing. "He went into work today." I said nothing. "Sit down." I sank into the chair across from her, a seed of dread growing in my stomach. "Have I ever told you about the day you were born?" I shook my head and said, "Dad has." Her red nail tapped at her smiling lips. She looked me over and then hesitated. She pulled a cigarette out of her bag and lit it, taking a big drag before speaking. "When I found out I was pregnant with you, I thought, 'It's your time, Ellen. Now you will do something wonderful. You're going to give birth to a perfect girl, and she will be all you weren't.' That's what most parents think, you know. That's why we have children. To right all our wrongs, to get the jobs we were too scared to apply for, to achieve the happiness we sought after and never got. All that sentimental bullshit. Can you believe I actually felt that?" "Mom, I--" "Then I went into labor." She shook her head and sipped her coffee. "It hurt like hell. I told your dad it was all his fault. That cliched crazy pregnant woman speech we all give when a human pushes it's way out of our bodies." "What did Dad say?" Mom looked at me with unseeing eyes, like she'd just remembered I was sitting there with her. She sucked her cigarette and it burned, causing ash to fall off and sprinkle on the table. "Robert said nothing. He was late for a meeting and he wanted me to be done with it. He didn't say that, though. He couldn't wait for you to be born. The little girl he could spoil, the girl who'd love him no matter what." She looked out the window. "You burned and clawed at me and the doctors and nurses all ran around like crazy people. I had this fleeting internal monologue and it was so ridiculous. I hated you then, you know. I knew I'd never have my perfect body back. I'd have to be a mother... I wouldn't be able to lie around and have no responsibilities, I couldn't go around as I pleased. I wanted to push you back in and go back in time and have the abortion I toyed with having." She laughed. "This is all I thought of in the one minute I could think." She looked at me, her eyes traveling over me as if she were looking for something. "Then this fat, bloody baby with dark blue eyes was put in my arms. Your dad cried. I just stared at you, not knowing what the hell to do with you. But I promised myself I'd love you, or that at least I'd convince you I loved you, that I'd give you everything I never had. I made that whole speech I gave you a few minutes ago--that you'd blaze through the world and do all the shit I'd only ever dreamed of. I wanted you to have the world. I hoped you'd find happiness. I really did." "Mom." My eyes filled with tears. She suspected something; she had to have some idea if she was sitting with me, telling me all this. She puffed on her cigarette one last time and dropped it in the remainder of her coffee."Now all I feel for you is indifference. I wanted to hate you when I found out you were fucking my husband. Trust me, I did. But hate is too strong of an emotion to feel towards someone like you." The Stepfather Chronicles Ch. 02 She smiled when she saw my eyes widen. "What are you talking about?" I asked, out of breath. I heard the whoosh of my furious pulse thundering in my ears. "Have you ever known me to be an idiot, Melanie?" "No," I whispered. "No," she repeated. "Of course not. I've known almost all along. I figured Alex would tire of you, and when he did, he wouldn't object to me conveniently sending you away." My heart raced. "You let us have sex all that time? Didn't it bother you?" "Yes." Her smile faded. "I knew, however, that by protesting I'd just drive him closer to you. I know that from experience. You're not the first slut he's cheated on me with, you know." No, I didn't know. I paled and she looked satisfied. "You're unique since you're my daughter. I guess that's a reason to feel special." She let out a sigh. "'So I waited--some nights, more impatiently than others--and I thought about the sweet revenge I'd have when it was all over." She got up and dumped the contents of her coffee in the sink. I watched her back move with her breathing, tears finally sliding down my cheeks. This was the most heartfelt conversation we ever had, and it was one expressing the lack of heart we had for the other. Mom turned around and leaned against the counter. "What were you thinking? That he'd leave me and run away with you? Do you honestly think Alex would for one second leave the world he's built?" She snorted. "He can't have the controversy that would inevitably come when people heard he was fucking his stepdaughter." I wiped away a tear angrily. "And you're happy with being his default?" Mom didn't react. "You're not welcome here anymore. Your father has agreed to take you in. Have your things packed; he'll be here by 3." My mouth fell open. "Dad?" "I explained everything to him. Threatened him with a few things. Now it's time for you to screw up his life, and leave mine the fuck alone." "I'm not going with him." She shrugged a shoulder. "Then I'll throw you out without a cent. My way is a lot kinder to you, I think." "Alex will never stay with you," I sobbed. I felt weak crying like this in front of my mother, but I couldn't stop it. Her grin sent a shudder down my spine. "Darling, you haven't learned one of the most fundamental truths of being a woman. You can tempt a man fairly easily; that's different from being able to keep him. Getting a man to stay can be quite difficult. You have to be smart. Much smarter than you." She put on her sunglasses and put her purse on her shoulder. "I'll trust that you won't fuck up anything else on your way out." The Stepfather Chronicles Ch. 03 Volume 2 Chapter 3: Mirrors The sound of Dad's fork and knife clanging against his dish were the only sounds in the room. His new wife—who could have only been a few years older than me—sipped her white wine and stared blindly at the table's centerpiece. Dad hadn't spoken much to me since he picked me up from Mother's. I sobbed silently for most of the two hour drive; he ignored it and fiddled with different radio stations. He offered no words of comfort. He'd hardly said hello. Then we were in his grand home and he had a fucking butler announcing dinner. "Is Ella home?" The butler, named Thomas, nodded. Dad let out a great breath. I couldn't tell if he was relieved or irritated. I never could tell with him. "Will you help my daughter with her bags?" my father asked Thomas. Then Dad half-turned to me. "Dinner will be ready in ten. Thomas will show you to the dining room." Then he opened a door to a room, a study perhaps, and vanished. I felt as though I were in some dreadful gothic novel. Dinner didn't affect his mood. Was I such a fucking albatross that he couldn't deal with me living here for a while? I spent time here during the summers growing up. He had a delightful lake at the back of the property. I almost smiled thinking of all the fun I'd had then, but then I caught a glimpse of my father's expression. He was watching me carefully. Studying me, really. I shifted uncomfortably and looked over at Ella, hoping she'd come up with something brilliant to say. That was a stupid hope, for Ella was never known for uttering anything brilliant. She was a sweet enough girl, but her brains were not her best attribute. I cut my steak up and delicately placed a piece of it on my tongue. I could feel Dad's eyes burning through my flesh and bone and I couldn't take it anymore. "What is it?" Dad didn't pretend to not understand. "I just can't believe how much you've turned into your mother." "Well, you left me alone with her." I sipped the wine that had been poured for me, in spite of the fact I was only 19. Dad didn't fire back with anything. I glanced over at him and thought I saw a tinge of regret cross his face. "I only meant that you look like her. You're smarter than her." "No. No, I'm not. Look at the situation I'm in, Dad." "What situation?" Ella cut in, finally deciding to pay attention. Dad ignored her. "It was bound to happen, you striking out against her. She was always a viper." "You don't blame me?" "Of course I blame you." Dad rolled his eyes. "I don't understand why or how you could have done what you did, but from what I understand Alexander is no novice when it comes to seducing girls." He shook his head. "I've heard he's done quite the number on your mother." "Mom hasn't been manipulated, she's just been—" "Of course she hasn't been manipulated," Dad cut in. "I just mean she's a fool. She's in love with a man who'll never love anybody but himself." Dad's eyes looked me over. "I think you might be more like her than you might like to think." I ignored his implications, his talk of Alex, even Alex's name, because all of it was ripping through my heart. "So you'll let me stay here for a while?" For the first time since he picked me up, he smiled a little. "Yes. Of course. We'll work something out. You're my daughter." Ella took my hand. "I'm so happy you're here. It's been forever since we saw each other last, and it's so boring here during the winter." I laughed, and surreptitiously wiped away the tears. This was undoubtedly a dysfunctional home, too, but no one would hurt me here. I was safe. It was the perfect place to heal. But I'd never forget Alex. How I loathed him. How the images of the last night I saw him, half-illuminated in the floodlight, touching my mother, played over and over in my head. Every tender word he said, or caring look he gave, was a lie. And most of it was my own fault, because I convinced myself Alex loved me, too. __________________________________ Two months passed. I heard nothing from my mother, which was unsurprising, and nothing from Alex. I read in the celebrities column he was opening a new set of restaurants on a few cruise lines. Spring was blooming. The lake was still too freezing to swim in, but Ella and I would go out there and lay and talk about nothing. Jackie called me a few times; I let it go to voicemail. As much as I missed her as a friend, conversation of my total decline wasn't something I wanted to go into. I spent most of my days walking, and nights reading. I didn't let myself think, or dwell. It would do me no good. I was convinced of that. Nevermind my horrible dreams, or the night terrors that ripped me from sleep, sweating and weeping. Then one day I accidentally opened the newspaper and there was a picture of my mother and Alex, coming out of some restaurant together. He was smiling gaily for the papers. That fucking smile I loved so much. I wanted to get a red marker and block out his face with it. Mom's smile was muted a bit. It could have been a host of different things. Perhaps she hadn't been ready for the photograph, or her mind was elsewhere. But something finally clicked for me. I still felt guilt. Immense guilt. I was haunted by it. It was everywhere I went, present in every nightmare I had. She was a bad mother, and an even more terrible person, but she'd given birth to me. She'd raised me. She put a roof over my head and bought me things. And I betrayed her. I didn't just tell her to fuck off, or max out one of the credit cards she sent me, or go off to France with some heathen just to spite her. I stole her man, or at least borrowed him, right under her nose. I thought of calling her but she'd only hang up. A letter would be no use, either. I went into my father's office one Saturday afternoon. "Dad, can I borrow your car?" He sighed and looked up from his papers. How different we looked; he had black hair and a sharp nose, while I looked far more like my mother. We had soft, cutely up-turned noses with big eyes and delicate chins. But I had inherited his dark blue eyes—Mom had hazel. "I was worried one day you'd ask me this... I'm not sure it's a good idea just yet, sweetie." "I want to visit Mom." Dad's eyes popped open and he shook his head. "Sit down." I sat on his comfy leather couch. Then he gave me an almost pitying smile and walked over to his bar. He poured two glasses of scotch and handed me one. "Drink it." I downed it, coughing and sputtering, and watched him sit across from me in his big winged chair. "Your mother doesn't want you to visit her." "I just want to apologize and—" Dad held his hand up. "Ellen doesn't care if you're sorry. Ellen doesn't care if you're alive or dead." "No way, that's not entirely true," I scoffed. "Besides, you left me to grow up with her! I came here a few summers, and then nothing! A phone call here and there. She took care of me, not you." "I'm sorry. I really am. I just was not in a position to raise a kid, and Ellen wanted you as leverage. I didn't want to..." He looked away from me, down at his beautiful Persian rug. "I'm sorry I left you there. Even if I'd brought you here and I was never home, you would have been better off than with that viper." His blue eyes lifted to mine. "I don't blame you for what you did. With her husband. Shocking, I know." "Dad, I shouldn't have—" "No. You should't have. But he manipulated you. He was probably the first person you've encountered you gave you unadulterated attention and affection." He downed the rest of his scotch. "I'm sorry." I looked down at my empty glass, unable to meet his eyes. Mine were a little teary. "Thank you, Dad." "You will get nothing by visiting Ellen but more misery." "I just feel like I have to. It'll make me feel better." Dad got up and poured himself another glass. "Borrow the car, if it makes you feel better, then. Do what you think is best. But don't expect a miracle." _________________________ As I got closer to my mother's house, a horrible thought occurred to me that should have crossed my mind many more hours before: what if Alex was there? I couldn't face him. Couldn't face the two of them together. I'd have to turn back if his shiny car was in the driveway. I pressed on, speeding probably far too fast but uncaring if I got pulled over. I was anxious and sick to the my stomach. My nerves were entirely shot, and all jumbled together. I wanted to see her. I wanted to say the several didn't speeches rehearsed in my mind. Finally I turned on my old street and there was my mother's splendid house. Alex's car was not in the driveway, but that didn't mean he wasn't home. I tried not to think of him as I got out and reached the front door. It didn't feel right just waltzing in, so I rang the doorbell. After what seemed the hours, the door opened a crack. I could hardly see inside, but the person—my mother—could clearly see me. "What are you doing here?" She spoke as though she were underwater; her words were slow, tired and heavy. She was drunk. I could smell it. Recognize the tone of her voice. "Mom, I wanted to—" "Don't call me 'Mom'." "I'm sorry. For everything." She swung the door open more. All the curtains were closed and there no lamps lit. The house was mostly dark and it smelled of damp and smoke. And vodka. She wore a lace nightie with big pink fluffy slippers. Her breasts were practically out, and I tried to avert my eyes. Her dye-job had faded into a dull dirty-blonde. I couldn't recall ever seeing her look so dark. And the shadows under her eyes only made her look worse. She was sallow and gaunt. "You're sorry. Is that what you said?" "Mom, I—" She picked up a nearby vase and threw it to the side. I didn't see it smash, but I heard all the pieces hit the floor. "Don't call me that!" I was quiet for a minute. She hadn't slammed the door, which I took as a pitifully good sign. "Are you all right?" Mom looked confused and let out a breath of laughter. "Do I look all right?" She was terrifying me. I'd never seen her like this, not even after Dad had left. I wanted to come inside, to get a good look at her, but I had no idea what she'd do. Her expression calmed and she looked me over. "Daddy has been taking good care of you, has he? Nice dress. Nice highlights. Nice everything." I wasn't sure how to respond. I knew she was being sarcastic, cruel. I told myself to remain calm. "Do you want me to come in and make you some lunch? Or something? Anything?" She laughed that brilliant laugh of hers, only there was a note off. Instead of sounding charming, it came off alarming. "Lunch?" She sighed and shook her head, a joyless smile twisted across her face. "Melanie, what do you want?" "To apologize. To set things right." Mom reached for a cigarette and lit it, blowing the smoke in my face. "Should have kept you here." I relaxed a little. Was she making her own apology? She didn't really need to, under the circumstances. "Really?" She nodded and looked up at the sky. It was due to rain any minute. "Yes, really." "Why?" Mom looked back at me. "So that he'd stay. So that when he was bored, he could go to you. He left me a little while after I sent you away. He was furious with me, actually. Does that make you happy? That he was mad I took his toy away? That he was so mad at me he broke all of your grandmother's plates? Almost tore off my head." My mouth had opened at her revelation and everything froze, but I shook my head after a minute. "Of course that doesn't make me happy. But Mom, I saw the two of you at some restaurant together. Some—" "It was taken a month ago. A little before he left." She flicked the ash off her cigarette. "So he's not here. You better be on your way." "Mom." I grasped her wrist. She looked up at me, eyes on fire, and ripped herself from my hold. Then she slapped me. Hard. "Don't you ever touch me!" I put my cool hand against my heated cheek and gave her a pleading look. "Please. I'm sorry. I know I owe you a lot more than an apology, but—" "I never want to see your face again." Mom took a deep breath and released it slowly. "If we happen to pass one another on the street, I want neither of us to acknowledge the other. I want to pretend I never had a child, or that if I had, she's dead. I never want to think of you again. Now get the fuck off my property." _________________________________ Mom picked herself up after that, or that's what the society pages said. She began dating a wealthy hotelier. She looked tons better than she did the day I visited, but there was still a haunted expression on her face in some of the photos. When I showed Dad at the breakfast table, he muttered a, "good for her," and went about buttering his toast. I thought about what she said to me all the time. It was unfathomable to me she could hate me so much, but I knew it was true. It wasn't just Alex, either. She'd always hated me. Alex was merely the icing on top. Ella poked me in the ribs. "Time to get dressed for the galaaaaaaa." Both my father and I groaned. Ella rolled her eyes. "C'mon, it's going to be such fun. And our dresses are gorgeous. Besides," she added, standing and coming around to my father and plopping right on his lap, "it'll be nice to see you dapper for a change." "I'm always dapper." It was weird for me to see my father act flirtatious, so I always watched with fascination when they were like this. Ella kissed him lightly on the lips and then came over to me and grabbed my arm. "Let's get ready!" "But it's only 10:30 in the morning! And it doesn't start until 8!" "Um, hello, we have spa and hair appointments. Not to mention, you are in definite need of a mani." I looked back at my father and he was grinning. "You are definitely in need of a mani, Mel." "See, even your dad gets it!" Ella insisted, not getting he was making fun of her a little. And so I followed her, allowing myself to have a little fun. ________________ Ella wore a silky blue dress that clung to her curves. My father couldn't hide the desire in his eyes, or the way he tightly gripped her arms; he looked like he wanted to drag her away from the gala by his teeth on the back of her neck. It amused me. I wore a red cocktail dress that had a bit of bounce to it in the skirt. It flattered my long legs, and it was playful and youthful. I loved it. My blonde hair had been wrapped up in some elaborate twist, and I wore just enough makeup. I felt pretty and happy for the first time in a long time. I snagged a flute of champagne. Dad gave me a jokingly disapproving look. Then he spun Ella out onto the dance floor and the two danced and danced. I remember being a little grossed out when they married. Their age difference was something like 30, 31 years apart. I recall thinking, "What the fuck can they have in common?" But watching them twist and turn, and spin and sway tonight made me realize it worked for them. Ella admired and respected my dad. And he adored her. It was really none of my business, either, was it? I was smiling, enjoying another glass of champagne, when a warm hand touched the naked skin of my shoulder. I turned, smile dimming and brain conjuring up some kind of polite version of "fuck off", and there he was. Alex looked exactly the same. Maybe a little more tanned, and he had grown some scruff. It brought out the blue of his eyes, and the blonde of his hair. I didn't react at first. I watched the lips that had kissed me, that had brought me such unbelievable pleasure, smile. It was a smile I knew well. The champagne buzzed unpleasantly in my chest and stomach. I looked around for an exit, blinking away tears. God forbid I fuck up the unbelievable makeup job Ella's stylist did. "Melanie..." "Please go away." "Melanie, it wasn't my fault." I took five large steps away, hoping to catch my father's eye. Alex grabbed my wrist. "Please, give me five minutes," he hissed, keeping a smile on his face for those who'd begun to turn their eyes to us. I laughed bitterly. "Absolutely not." "A minute, then." "Alex," I said, and then swallowed back the lump of emotion his name gave me. "Alex, please just leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with you, okay?" "Why not? What did your mother tell you?" "God!" A tear dropped down my cheek and I met his eyes straight-on for the first time. "You broke my heart! And this is inappropriate, and you know it! So just stay away from—" "I didn't send you away," he said, eyes sparking. He was breathing heavily. "It wasn't me." I looked anywhere but him. "You fucked her that night." He laughed and my eyes shot up to his in disbelief. He thought it was funny? "We were married, Melanie, it's like I could be like 'no, gotta be faithful to your daughter'. I had to. I didn't want her to suspect." "You were never going to leave her. You didn't love me." God, how I wished I could suck those last words back inside my mouth. What a stupid fucking thing to say. And now he was looking at me tenderly, remorsefully. He pitied me. "Please leave me alone, Alex, okay?" "Not until you give me my minute to explain." People had begun to pay attention to us. I forced a smile but I was sure I looked more like I might vomit. "Fine," I gritted out. He took me outside on the back patio. Some people were gathered together, smoking cigars. Couples were sharing drinks and laughing quietly. He took me as far away as he could get behind a large bush. "I didn't know what I planned on doing with you, but I knew I wasn't going to stay married to Ellen. I didn't want to jeopardize my career, so no. We wouldn't have been moving in together or anything like that. But I intended on seeing you." I opened my mouth to say something but he put his hand over it. "I needed time. Sort things out. People will forgive anyone who has enough money and clout, who they owe shit to, who they're forced to put up with. I was making sure I was that kind of person. And then, Melanie, I was going to come and drag you away with me. Maybe on one of the cruises that feature my restaurants. At a launch, maybe. And I was going to kiss you in front of the cameras, and deal with the fallout that may or may not follow, and then later I'd take you to my room and fuck you and forget all the politics. I'd fuck you so, so good." His words were liquid gold, and my body was a quivering system of skin and nerves and piping hot blood. "Alex..." "I've wanted you so long. It's been torture." He took a piece of my hair down from the twist and sniffed it. "I didn't know exactly how I'd see you. I knew it was only a matter of time your father brought you somewhere..." He met my eyes. "I didn't want to have sex with her that night, but I didn't know what to do. I couldn't think that quick. And she was suspicious, as you found out the next day." "Let's not... Let's not talk about that anymore." "That's the main reason you're mad, right?" He got closer, breathing against my face. "No." "I think it is." "It's been 4 months and I haven't heard anything from you. And I don't trust you." His fingers danced up my arms. I wanted to push him away, call for help. Tell him to go fuck himself. But my mouth wouldn't work, and my body was a lot more powerful. "Yes. Nearly 4 months and it's been agony. There's been no one else." "Oh, please. Don't give me any bullshit. This isn't a romance novel. You, Alexander Bennett, have been celibate since leaving my mother." Alex laughed and looked around to make sure no one was close. "It's true. I've been in a monogamous relationship with my right hand." I wanted to believe him. He looked sincere. He sounded as believable as ever. I wanted to kiss him. But my father's words echoed in my mind. He manipulated me. God, he knew how I'd respond to him. The Stepfather Chronicles Ch. 03 "It's over. I'm not interested in—" But he shut me up again, this time with a scorching kiss that immediately made me wet. His lips twisted against mine until finally his tongue slid in, running slowly against mine. He sucked my tongue into his mouth and curled his own around it. And then he shoved his tongue back into my mouth, mimicking what he obviously wanted to do to me. Alex ran my skirt up and pressed against my red silk panties that were drenched. I'd missed this, and said so without even realizing it. He laughed into my neck. Then his fingers slipped into my panties and toyed with the wetness they found. One by one they worked their way inside my resisting flesh until four were fucking me steadily. I could hear their movements inside my pussy even over the gentlemanly chat and the feminine laughter feet away. Alex bit my ear and then licked it, soothing the hurt. "God, I've missed you." I clutched his bicep, holding on for dear life as an orgasm crept its way though my body. I could feel his muscles flex and release as his hand worked hard between my legs. My stomach warmed, my breasts filled and my face flushed. He fished for a nipple with his other hand, annoyed when the fabric was too tight. I heard a ripping sound and even in my mindless rapture I gave him a look. He shrugged unrepentantly and then ran a calloused thumb over my nipple. I cried out and he quickly covered the sound with his panting mouth. His fingers sped up just as his fingers pinched my clit. My entire body went on fire and I shook while Alex held me, giving me soft kisses over the exposed part of my chest. Then his sparkling eyes kept my blurry gaze as he removed his fingers and licked them, one by one. When I came down I instantly felt like a moron. I regarded Alex suspiciously as I put my clothes back together. The tear in my bodice wasn't too noticeable, thank God. He watched me from a few feet away, his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have done that. I took advantage. Doesn't make me appear too trustworthy and upstanding, does it?" My body didn't care. "I don't know." I hated that I sounded like a little girl, uncertain and frightened. He came over to me, slowly as if I might run away, and brought me to his chest. I couldn't remember ever being hugged like that. It sounds silly, but I felt so safe and warm. Maybe even a little cherished. Alex played with a strand of my hair. "I've just been so hungry for you and... When there's a will, there's a way, Melanie. We're going to figure out something." I'd begun to cry, but I laughed through my tears. "What a fucking cliché." "No one makes me harder than you do. No one drives me crazy like you can with just a roll of your eyes, when you walk, a smirk. Fuck, you make me hot." Not exactly romantic, and definitely not a declaration of love, but there was honest affection in those crude words. Or maybe I was just looking for it. I pulled my head back and kissed him. He stuck his hand in my hair and ruined my twist, but I couldn't stop him. Then he ran a hand down my body, cupping my breast, stroking my side, pressing against my pussy and clutching my ass. "We're going to figure out something. We just need to wait a few more months." That felt like an eternity. A sillier, more immature part of me thought we could run away tonight. "Right." I stared at the trees beyond the top of his right shoulder. He put his fingers on my chin and turned my face back to his. My tear-filled eyes plead for something I didn't think I'd ever receive. He kissed me softly one last time. "I promise." "Gonna put me up in an apartment? Visit me when you can pry yourself from the parties? I'll be be your kept girl." I wiped a tear away. "Your kept teenager." "Jesus Christ, Melanie, sometimes you have the flair for the dramatic. Just like..." he trailed off. "My mother?" He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "What do you want me to say? We will be together. In public. No hidden apartments, no secret affair. I just ask for a little time." "You've had 4 months." "Do you really think that's enough time for me to separate myself enough from your mother to start dating her daughter? Think about it for a minute, for God's sake." "Do you really think that any amount of time will make it okay?" Alex shook his head and looked at the grass. "So, should we go to the best French restaurant in town tomorrow night?" I laughed even though I wanted to desperately hold on to my pout. "No." In spire of the heaviness of the conversation, I felt drowsy. Satisfied. I shimmied over to him, still annoyed and confused, and kissed his nose. I was doomed. I loved him. Any intelligence I might have possessed was ignored by my starving body. "How much more time?" Alex put a piece of errant hair back behind my ear. "Not much longer. Soon. I promise." I looked deep into his sapphire eyes and saw no trace of a lie. Just affection. Desire. I wanted to believe him. And so I believed him. I hugged him delicately, as if he were a dream that might slip away if I touched him too hard. "Can you smuggle me back in? My father will be watching?" He kissed the space between my throat and shoulder. "That I can do for you." "I love you, Alex." He kissed me again and then blew air across my ear. "Soon." The Stepfather Chronicles For all his talking before, he was silent as he humped me into a puddle of pleasure against the door. He thrust against me in slow, constant, and thorough hunches. I had to shut my eyes; I couldn't handle his intense and determined gaze. Then I felt his mouth close around my breast and suck my nipple hard. My eyes flew open. "Fuck, Alex." He just continued fucking me, not saying a word. His hand ran over my body, clutching at my ass, pushing against my stomach, positioning me by my shoulder. "Please," I begged after a while. I was so close to coming again. Alex stood up tall and lifted my body higher against the door. My legs automatically crossed over his ass, pulling him in tighter. He grabbed my breast and proceeded to fuck me harder than I ever imagined. The pounding was rough and constant, and very nearly too much. His face tightened as he watched me come again. He groaned when my pussy squeezed his dick, pulling him in deeper. I shut my eyes, unable to handle the expression of naked desire and barbaric intent on his face. His hand went to my hair, pulling it tightly so that I'd keep my eyes on him. And I knew it was always meant to be like this. We were destined to fuck every since we laid eyes on each other. A growl built up from his chest and into his throat. By his frantic thrusts and desperate grunts, it was obvious he was close. My drenched pussy gave me another shock of pleasure that I knew he could feel. I was almost positive I would die coming. His lips came to mine in a scorching kiss. Our first one, it dawned on me. His tongue battled my own in a fierce, wet violence that made my pulse skyrocket. Finally Alex gasped and pulled his mouth away to bury his face in my neck. He groaned passionately, holding onto my ass with spread fingers. His heavy body covered mine as his cock let go, pushing bursts of cum inside me with every jump. And then he sighed and pushed away from me. His cock fell out, leaving a trail of cream. He pushed my hair back from my sweaty forehead and gave me another kiss. It was so consuming that I almost felt like I could orgasm again from it. He moved away from me, pulling up his pants in the process. My fingers let go of my dress and it fell down, covering my ravaged pussy dripping with his cum. The intimate sound of his fly zipping up made me blush, which was ridiculous considering everything we'd just done. He came over to me once he was presentable and grabbed my chin. "Be a bit more quiet the next time you sneak out," he panted, still out of breath from our fucking. And then he was gone, leaving me pleasure-wracked and completely confused. I'd just fucked my stepfather. Did I feel guilty? Grossed out? Used? My fingers had a mind of their own. They slipped into my used pussy and spread around his cum. Only then did I realize I was grinning.