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Daddy's Girl [ Erotica Forbidden Romance]
This book contains raw contents. Read with caution. R18+
Stéphane had never desired Aleen; she was off-limits as his wife's daughter, Christine. But something about her captivated and locked him in, igniting his appetite and desire for her.
Stéphane knew he should keep his distance; he shouldn't have any longing for his stepdaughter.
He shouldn't want to know how she tastes or long to feel her tightness wrapped around him as he buried himself deep inside her.
However, all resolve to resist was shattered when Aleen boldly made the first move, bringing Stéphane to his knees and causing him to taste the forbidden when she called him 'Daddy'.
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Chapter 5
When my hands dropped to the front of my shorts, I could see his body stiffen all the more, and as he quickly glanced outside the entrace of his bedroom, towards the sitting room, he slowly dropped his own hand to the front of his jeans and slowly stroked it over the huge bulge growing there.
And it was right then that I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. He wasn't just not looking away or trying to sneak looks.
He was standing right at the door across from me, stroking his cock right through his jeans and watching me.
Right there, I knew that he had always wanted me as I wanted him for so long. I thought I had been delusional about everything, but his response tonight proved that he has the same attraction I had for him, and it made my heart soar with joy.
And the fact that he just didn't seem to care if I did had my young pussy throbbing with heat.
I made my final move. I turned fully towards him, my small breasts and harden nipples, right out in the open, directly for him as I took a deep breath and drew my eyes right up to his.
He may have pretended before. Maybe he'd felt awkward with our meeting earlier in his kitchen. But here he's watching me with wanton lust.
And when our eyes met, he didn't dart away or hide. He didn't even move his hand away from the bulge in his jeans. Instead, his eyes just flashed fire at me.
I wanted this; I wanted to show him every part of me. I want him to memorize every part of my small body.
I turned sideways as I hooked my thumbs into my shorts and began to slowly slide them down and ease them over my tight little ass. I glanced at him coyly over my shoulder as I pulled them down, showing him my bare ass.
I saw him groan quietly, his hand zipping down his jeans a bit lower as he stroked his thick bulge harder and with more purpose now that nothing was hidden.
I moaned softly, loving that I had this effect on him. Even as inexperienced and young as I was, I could have this kind of power over a much older, much more experienced man.
The naughtiness of it all was like a drug to me, and I realized as I turned back to him that my panties were soaking wet for him.
As I stood there shyly, half in the dimlight of my room and half in shadow, I slowly hooked my fingers into the hem of my tiny panties and slowly pulled it down my feet. I could see Mr. Chase eyes blazing as they stared at me, and as I shivered under his gaze.
I slowly lifted up the panties, examining that exact spot filled with my wetness for him.
Without breaking eye contact, I lifted my panties to my nose, inhaling my wetness as I closed my eyes. I opened slowly to see him shift, his breathing ragged as he kept looking at me. I could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The way he moved, his eyes never leaving me even for a second.
He groaned then, his face tightening and his finger going to the front of his boxer. I gasped quietly as he pulled it down for me.
But it was when he slowly pulled his hand back out that my eyes went wide and my jaw about hit the ground when I saw the thick, gorgeous cock wrapped tightly in his strong hand. Under the light of his bedroom, I could see his penis weeping precum for me.
As he held it - the huge, fat shaft pulsing in his fist - I let my fingers slide gently down over the soft folds of my hairy small slit. I could see his jaw tighten as I did and he started to stroke his hand up and down his big dick as I began to explore my young pussy for him through the door.
I see the way his eyes glued to my pussy area, I hadn't bother shaving because I see no reason why. I don't have a boyfriend, I have never had sex. And with the way my stepuncle's eyes are glued to my small pussy, I think he appreciate and love the view.
It felt so dirty, playing with my small pussy like that for my stepuncle, so slutty, and that wasn't a feeling I'd ever felt before. But at the same time, I loved how it made me feel.
I love that I was behaving like a little slut, stripping and playing with myself for my stepuncle to watch. I'm a naughty girl whose legs part wide open, showing her teenage pussy to her step uncle.
His hand was moving faster and faster up and down his throbbing cock, and I groaned and let my own small fingers slide deep into my tight folds. His jaw tightened again as he watched me penetrate myself, watched how the soft light in my room glistened on my wet, sticky fingers as they slid in and out of my tight, hairy small cunt.
He watched how my face scrunched up with pleasure as my thumb brushed against my clit. We stayed like that, just watching the other, pleasuring ourselves:- the sexy, totally forbidden and unbelievably taboo act.
With my legs quietly widely apart, I fingered myself faster and faster, feeling my own desire drip down my fingers from my small slit and my clit buzzing as my thumb flitted across it.
My stepuncle cock looked even bigger then, and his face flushed bright red as he shuttled his hand up down his enormous dick quicker and quicker. I knew I was close, and I knew that I wanted him to see me.
I wanted my uncle to watch me come hard for him. To watch me call out his name in pleasure.
As I edged closer to climax, watching him pump his cock, muscles bulging in his forearm, I suddenly heard footsteps approaching and his wife's voice calling out, "Honey! Are you there?"
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7.1
I was eight months pregnant, waiting on the sofa for my billionaire husband to come home.
But when the heavy oak doors opened, Cayden threw a fake DNA test on the glass table, showing a zero percent probability of paternity.
He accused me of carrying another man's bastard. I cried and begged, swearing I was framed by his childhood friend, Carmella. He didn't listen. Instead, he ordered his massive bodyguards to pin me down while a private doctor forced an abortion pill down my throat.
"The Merritt family does not raise bastards. Get rid of it."
He forced me to sign divorce papers and ordered his men to throw me out into the freezing storm. Before I was dragged away, I desperately told him the truth: I was the anonymous donor who gave him a kidney to save his life three years ago.
He just sneered, saying Carmella had the surgical scar to prove she was the donor, and kicked me out to die.
Lying in the freezing rain, vomiting up the half-dissolved poison to save my baby, I didn't understand how the man I loved could be so completely blind. How could he let that woman steal my kidney, my marriage, and murder his own flesh and blood?
Five years later, I returned to New York not as his pathetic discarded wife, but as a top-tier medical fixer for the global elite.
And my genius five-year-old son has already infiltrated his mansion, ready to tear his empire apart from the inside.
9.2
Johnny Simmons thrives on competition-whether in the pool, in playful bets, or in charming his way through life. He's used to being in control, but when Jane Shepperd enters his world, she proves to be an unexpected challenge.
Assigned to his study group, Jane is sharp, unfiltered, and unimpressed by his usual charm. Their first real interaction is filled with witty banter, subtle tension, and a clash of personalities that leaves Johnny both frustrated and intrigued.
9.2
The camera flashes felt like a firing squad, dragging me back to the night I lost my baby five years ago. My husband, Faron, sat in the front row, his hand on his mistress Kassie’s thigh, utterly ignoring my public humiliation. This was the thirtieth time he’d made me a joke, and it would be the last.
For three years, I played the dutiful Blackwell wife, shielding Faron from his endless affairs.
At a press conference, a reporter’s question about his yacht booking with Kassie shattered my facade. Faron, smiling at his mistress, completely ignored me. The last filter I viewed him through instantly shattered.
Later, Kassie deliberately spilled champagne on me at a gala. Faron, instead of helping, tenderly wiped it from her.
She hissed, "Faron said you just lay there. Fucking you is like fucking a dead fish."
This venomous taunt, after thirty public betrayals, snapped my sanity.
Chained by my mother-in-law's threats, my pain was expected. My silence demanded. But I was finally done.
With a cold, empty void, I slammed the folder shut. I dropped the family crest.
"Have a wonderful evening, Faron," I said, turning and walking out. I left him and his suffocating charade behind.
9.5
I was the heiress to a real estate empire, celebrating my engagement to Douglas at our Manhattan penthouse.
But when I stepped into the master bedroom, I caught him sleeping with my best friend, Krystle.
Before I could even react, Douglas forced me to sign away my family's entire trust fund.
He held up a tablet and forced me to watch a live feed of my parents being burned alive in our Hamptons estate.
"The fire hasn't reached the main house yet, sign it and I'll call them off," he lied.
As soon as the ink dried, he beat me to the ground and locked me in the soundproof study.
He poured twenty-three-year-old whiskey on the carpet and dropped a lit cigar.
"You could have walked away with nothing, but alive," he sneered.
He left me to burn to death while he and Krystle went back to our engagement party to drink champagne.
As the flames melted my skin and my bones shattered against the bulletproof glass, I couldn't understand it.
How could the man who promised me forever brutally exterminate my entire family just for money?
But I didn't die in that fire.
Three years later, with a reconstructed face and a new identity as the mysterious global designer Alice Moreau, I returned to New York.
Watching Douglas and Krystle flaunt the wealth they stole from my family's ashes, I smiled behind my black veil.
It was time to make them pay with everything they had.
8.9
"Are you sure, Jake? I can be a very bad girl," I purred sexily, brushing my hands lightly over his pants. He stiffened and grabbed my hands.
"Bad girls get punished," He snarled.
"Would you like to punish me then?"
** ** **
Warning: This book contains hot, explicit, and mature content rated 18+.
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7.1
To save my family from ruin, I remarried my billionaire ex-husband, Jaxon Lowe. He held my late mother' s locket hostage, forcing me back into a gilded cage where I endured his cold contempt and his very public affair. I played the part of the silent, obedient wife he demanded, building a wall of ice around my heart just to survive.
But my obedience didn't protect me. He abandoned me in a torrential downpour to rescue his mistress, Ivory.
Then, he broke his one promise. He let Ivory have my mother's locket pulled from auction, the very reason for my sacrifice, simply because she found it "unlucky."
That final betrayal led me straight into the hands of his business rival, where I was tortured and left for dead.
But I survived.
Four months later, Jaxon found me. He stood before me, tears streaming down his face, holding the now-repaired locket and begging for forgiveness.
I took back what was mine.
"I want a divorce," I said, my voice calm and final. "And I never want to see you again."