Page 5 of Don’t Call Me Son

I grab a fresh sheet from my closet and walk over to the bed, keeping my gaze locked on the mattress as I start tucking in the first corner. A second later Colt mirrors me on the opposite side, working quietly, helping me make the bed. I’m grateful he’s helping, it’s way faster with two people, but I’m also surprised. I figured he’d make me do it alone since I didn’t stay put like he told me to.

We finish tucking in the last of the sheet in silence. I’m just about to straighten up when Colt suddenly moves. In one smooth motion he grabs me, spins me around, and throws me down onto the clean bed. The mattress bounces under my back as I land with a surprised grunt. Before I can even push myself up, he’s on top of me, heavy and overwhelming.

“Colt, what the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer with words. He just growls low in his chest and starts marking me like a dog claiming territory. His mouth latches onto the inside of my thigh first, sucking hard, then biting down. The sharp sting makes me jerk and gasp. He moves higher, licking a hot stripe over my hip before sinking his teeth into the skin just below my waistband. Then my wrist; he grabs it, pins it above my head, and bites hard enough to leave a perfect bruise blooming under his teeth.

He shifts again, shoving my vest up, and drags his tongue over my chest until he finds my left nipple. He licks it slow and filthy, then sucks it into his mouth and bites, hard. I choke on a moan as a dark hickey immediately starts forming around it.

Every mark burns and every lick feels possessive. He’s not even trying to get either of us off, his cock isn’t even hard against me; this is purely about ownership. He’s groaning deep and satisfied against my skin, like he’s finally letting himself do what he wanted.

“Mine now,” he mutters roughly between bites, voice gravelly. “Doesn’t matter what you tell yourself when you’re out there running with your friends. This body knows who it belongs to.”

My face is burning with humiliation even as my cock throbs against fabric. I should hate this; I should be pushing him off. Instead, I’m lying here panting, covered in fresh bites and bruises, letting my stepdad mark me up like property.

Colt finally pulls back, breathing heavy, and looks down at his work with dark satisfaction; the blooming hickey on my nipple, the teeth marks on my thigh and wrist. He gives one last slow lick over the fresh bruise on my thigh like he’s sealing it. Then he stands up, runs a hand through his hair, and looks almost… calm again.

“Get ready,” he says casually. “And don’t cover those up. I want you feeling them every time you move today.”

Chapter Three

Colt

It’s half past six and Sarah’s finally up, walking into the kitchen in her pale blue scrubs, her long blonde hair still messy from sleep as she ties it into a ponytail. A few silver strands catch the light, I love those; I love all of her. Hard-working and soft-hearted, the kind of woman who’ll stay late at the hospital just to hold an elderly patient’s hand; she’s everything good.

She walks over and gives me a sweet kiss. I return it instantly, cupping the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheek. I love the pants off this woman. Funny though, how I don’t feel even a flicker of guilt about what I did to her son a couple hours ago… but the thought of anyone else touching either of them makes my blood boil.

She turns toward the table and nearly jumps out of her skin. “Christ, Arch!” she laughs, hand flying to her chest. “What are you doing up, love?”

Archie’s sitting at the table in his track kit, shovelling cereal into his mouth; the branded stuff he likes. I wasn’t about to let the kid run sprints on an empty stomach after earlier.

Archie grins at her, easy as anything. “Morning.”

She tightens her hair tie again and tilts her head. “You’re never awake at this hour.”

“Uh… I just…”

I watch Archie start to flounder, eyes darting. Before he can dig himself into a hole, I clear my throat and rub a warm hand down Sarah’s back.

“My fault, love. Couldn’t get back to sleep after I woke up at four,” I say casually. “Didn’t want to turn all the lights on and wake you, so I accidentally bumped into his door pretty hard when I was heading downstairs.”

Archie lets out a short laugh. “Yeah… one hell of a way to wake up.”

I catch the filthy double meaning in his tone and have to fight back a smirk.

Sarah turns to me, looking genuinely apologetic. “Sorry, babe. Did I kick you again?”

I huff a little laugh. “I didn’t say that.” She does kick like a damn mule in her sleep; right now, it’s the perfect cover.

She kisses my cheek, soft and quick. “Well, sorry for disturbing you both.”

Then, like the good mom she is, she walks around the table and hugs Archie from behind, arms looped around his neck. “It’s nice to see you before work for once, baby.”

Archie smiles up at her. “You too, Mom.”

Sarah pulls back, about to say something else when her eyes catch on his wrist; her whole face changes. “Uh… Archie?”

“Yeah, Mom?” He lifts another spoonful of cereal toward his mouth.