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When I pull back enough for her to look at me, her eyes flare with lust, and the look shoots through to my cock, making it jump inside her.
My request is fucked up on so many levels. Aleah should shove me away and call me a pervert. It’s what I am. What man in their right mind wants to be called Daddy while he’s fucking a woman? We’re not related by blood, but she’s still my step-daughter, for fuck’s sake.
Aleah was eleven when her mother and I married. She never called me daddy when she was a child. It wasn’t until the last several months, when she started taunting me, that she started using the term. For some reason, I hated it the first few times she did. It wasn’t until I started recognizing her taunts as her attempt at trying to seduce me that the term started to get to me. Now when she calls me daddy, I want to bend her over my knee and smack her ass at the same time I fuck her with my fingers.
Aleah’s eyes hold mine as she whispers her plea, “Fuck me, Daddy.”
My control is obliterated the moment those words leave her lips. I rear my hips back and slam forward. She lets out a startled cry, but she doesn’t try to buck away from me. In fact, she thrusts her hips back even more. I pound into her over and over again as grunts leave my lips.
Abruptly pulling out of her, I spin her around, palm her ass, and pick her up. Her legs hug my waist just as I drop her back down on my swollen cock.
She feels so fucking good, too fucking tight, I’m seconds away from exploding. Aleah is small and doesn’t weigh much, so it’s easy to lift her up and down on my shaft. The glide of her pussy has me seeing stars and my balls get tight.
When her head falls back, exposing her neck, I latch my lips around a piece of her delicate skin and suck, purposely leaving my mark on her.
“Ah, fuck,” I groan when her walls clamp down on me. Her blissful cries of pleasure fill my ears. My fingers dig into her ass, and I frantically lift her up and down.
Just as my orgasm hits, Aleah lifts her head, and our eyes meet. We both move at the same time and lock our lips together. I groan into her mouth as cum shoots from me, filling the condom. She still spasms around me, prolonging my release.
Seconds, minutes, or maybe hours later, it’s hard to tell, our kiss slows, and we break apart. Aleah's eyes are glazed as she looks at me.
A little smile forms and she whispers softly, “Happy birthday to me.”
Chapter 8
ALEAH
I stretch my arms over my head and a slow smile slides across my face when I feel a twinge of pain all over my body. Last night was the best night of my life, and I really hope I have many more of them.
It’s no wonder my body aches. After the first time Spencer took me in the family room, he carried me upstairs and did it again in the shower. We ate the dinner he brought home at the dining room table, then he proceeded to fuck me on it. I’ve had Spencer in me three wonderful times, and I swear I’ve never felt anything so good.
It was well after midnight when I went to my room, and he went to his. I wanted to join him in his bed, but I didn’t want to push him. I did enough of that yesterday, and while the results were just what I wanted—him finally giving in to the attraction between us—I knew I needed to proceed with caution.
Tossing back my covers, I get up from my bed and slip on one of Spencer’s shirts that I stole from him a while back. I stop by the bathroom to take care of business and brush my teeth before I go downstairs. It’s a little after nine in the morning, so I know Spencer will be up. I’m already looking forward to what the day will bring. Since it’s Saturday and he typically doesn’t work on the weekends, the day should be free for both of us. I personally hope we spend part of the day in one of our beds.
His back is turned toward me as he sits at the table, so he doesn’t notice me walking in. Keeping my steps light, I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders from behind, planting a kiss on the side of his neck.
He stiffens and grabs my hands before they can reach the bottom of his shirt. Frowning, I step back when he pushes his chair away from the table and stands. The look on his face when he turns around has my stomach plummeting to my toes.
“Aleah,” he sighs my name as he eyes the shirt I’m wearing. “We need to talk.”
I know what’s coming next without him saying it. It’s written all over his face. He regrets what we did yesterday.
“Sit,” he says, pointing to the chair opposite of the one he was just using.
I wrap my arms around my stomach and glare at him. “No thanks. Just spit it out, Spencer.”
“Look.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks down at his feet for a moment before lifting his head. “Yesterday was a mistake that should have never happened.”
My laugh is anything but humorous. “Thanks for that. It’s nice to know that the best night of my life was the worst for you.”
A pained frown pulls down his brows. “You have to know this would never work between us.”
“No, I don’t know that, and neither do you.” My eyes sting with impending tears. “That’s just what you think because you’re scared. What I know is if you want something bad enough, you fight for it, no matter how hard that fight might be.” I sniff and blink back the stupid tears wanting to fall. “Apparently, as much as you are that for me, I’m not that for you.”
“Goddamn it, Aleah,” he growls, lifting a hand to rake his fingers through his hair. Hair that I grabbed onto last night as he ate me out on the pool table. “You are worth fighting for, and don’t you dare think otherwise. You’re an incredible young woman and any man would be damn lucky to have you. I’m just not that man.”
“Because you choose not to be.”
