My New Step-Dad(5)

I clench my teeth, processing the rude thought I had about the woman. Fuck it, she is a dumb slut. I can think it all I want. Grabbing my hair tie off the nightstand, I pull my wild blonde hair into a messy bun on top of my head, and make my way through the condo to the kitchen. If I’m lucky, I won’t run into Bruce or his date from last night. The thought puts a knot into my stomach. Would they be in the kitchen playing house together? Her making him breakfast like a happy lovey couple. I long for something like that.

I’m about to walk into the kitchen, when I hear Bruce’s deep voice, and I halt my movements.

“No, we can’t have dinner again tonight.” He pauses for a long moment, and I realize he must be on the phone. “She’ll only be here for a few weeks, and I’m getting her out of here as quick as I can. Trust me, I don’t need a little girl running around here, you and I both know I don’t have time for that.”

His words sting more than they should. Why should I care that he doesn’t want me here? Story of my life. Fuck him. If he didn’t want to have to deal with me then maybe he shouldn’t have married my mom.

I stroll into the kitchen, ignoring him, determined to let the insult roll off my back. I hear him take a deep breath, and I can feel his eyes on me, but I pretend he’s not standing there, drinking his coffee, with the phone to his ear. I feel a small weight lift off my shoulders when I realize no one else is here. She didn’t stay over. Pulling the fridge open, I feel the cold air hit my body, and it’s then I realize what I’m wearing, or more accurately, what I’m not wearing. I’m so used to only being around and living with other girls that I didn’t think about my attire when I rolled out of bed this morning. I feel my nipples contract against the cold air, the threadbare strappy tank doing nothing to protect them from the chill. Goosebumps break out all over my bare legs.

Fucking shit. How am I going to turn around? I’m standing in front of the fridge in nothing but a small tank top, tiny white panties, and my freaking knee-high socks.

“No, Holly, lunch is fine.”

I bite back nausea at the mention of Holly’s name.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

I hear his phone hit the granite counter and I cringe at the sound. I’d be surprised if it hasn’t cracked.

“Where the f*ck are your pants?” Glancing over my shoulder, I see his dark green eyes on my ass. Does he like what he sees? I’m nothing like Holly. In fact, Holly and I are night and day if you compare us, and sadly I have. Where she is toned and firm, I’m curvy and soft, she looks enticing whereas I look boring and couldn’t get a tan to save my life. Her legs go on for miles, and the only thing that goes on for miles on me is my hair, and it’s pretty uncontrollable.

He looks so mad. If he could he’d spit fire from his nostrils right about now, he would. The fact that I provoked this much emotion in him is exciting.

This is uncharted territory for both of us. I can tell by the look on his face that poking him would be dangerous. But for the first time in weeks, I feel something. I don’t ever recall pulling this much emotion from anyone. I was just always there, the girl in the corner. Now I am standing in a kitchen, with a man who looks wildly pissed at me, and I want more. It wouldn't bring the tears I wanted moments ago, but it felt like it could bring so much more.





Chapter 3





Bruce



How can she walk around the house like that and not expect a reaction? I bet that’s why she did it. Does she always walk around in front of men like this? The thought that someone else may have seen her like this makes me murderous. I would like to think my feelings stem from a fatherly concern, but that would be total bullshit. She seemed so meek and innocent yesterday when she got here, but it must have been an act. I’m visibly shaking as I wait for a response to my question.

Slowly she shuts the fridge, turns around to face me, and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. My imagination was nothing compared to what her curvy body really looks like. I can see every curve of her perfect, little, compact body. I can tell she would fit against me perfectly. She would be so easy to do with as I pleased.

Her paper-thin top shows the clear outline of her areolae and her diamond-hard nipples. I can’t quite make out the color of them, and now I’m mad about that too. Fuck. I’m sure she’s not turned on by an old pervert like me starring at her, but my inner animal doesn’t care. He thinks her body is getting primed for him, and he’s ready to rut deep inside her. I could bend her over the kitchen counter, the cold granite top making her nipples even harder as I pounded into her cunt until I filled her with my cum. It would drip down her milky, plump thighs. Maybe I should leave those bite marks first. The cum would fill in the little divots as it drained down her legs.

I blink hard a few times, trying to rid my brain of this image. I look down her body and see her panties are so sheer and small, I can make out the outline of her bare * lips.

“Fuck.” I turn around to face away from her, but I still have the picture of her hairless * covered in see-through panties burned into my mind. I take gulps of air, but this only serves as more fuel for my inner beast.

“I’m sorry, I’m used to living with girls. I didn’t even stop to think.”

“You will need to stop to think next time, Sophie. I can’t see you like this. It isn’t appropriate.”