HOUSE OF TABOOS(erotica shorts)
A collection of scorching stepdad erotica shorts where forbidden desire knows no limits. Every story is packed with raw lust, shameless seduction, and taboo encounters that will leave you wet and burning for more.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
M y breath hitches as his hand draws a lazy line up and down the back of my leg. He moves a few inches closer to me so that both of our lower
halves are hidden behind the counter.
"If you keep prancing around the house like this, I might take as a sign that you want me to touch you."
I swallow as his fingers get a tiny bit higher with each pass.
"Is that what you want, Allie?"
I can't even form words to answer.
"If you show me your tits again, I'm going to pinch them. Is that what you want?"
"Is... is that what you want?" I ask.
"Are you asking because you want to please me?"
Do I? Yes. I do, so I nod.
"Good girl," he whispers.
I moan and shift my hips at his words.
"You like praise, Allie?"
"I... don't know."
"Then let me ask you this, do you want to be daddy's good girl?"
A drip of wetness overflows from inside me. It cascades down my inner thigh. I close my eyes, praying he doesn't feel it. But then he groans and whispers a curse.
His hand trails higher, slipping into the loose leg of my pajama shorts. When his fingers glide through the wetness on my thighs, his hand tightens around my leg.
"Fuck," he whispers.
We both look over at Mom, but she's still talking on the phone, looking down at her tablet.
"You want it, don't you, Allie?"
I nod.
"Give me words. Tell me you want it."
"I... I want it."
He leans even closer, whispering into my ear. "Say 'I want it, Daddy,'
like a good girl."
I shudder. "I want it, Daddy," I whisper.
"Good girl."
His finger traces over my entrance, then glides higher. I'm already close to coming. If he touches my clit, I know I'll combust, but I want it. I need it. I grip the edge of the counter and tilt my hips back to give him better access.
Mom groans, taps at her phone to end the call, starts stuffing all her things into her bag and says, "I need to go in early."
Daddy and I break apart as she walks around the counter to fill an insulated travel mug with coffee. I pant as I grit my teeth.
My hands still grip the counter, but now in frustration because I was so close. When I look over at Daddy, he's watching me. Our eyes lock and hold as he lifts his finger to his mouth and licks them clean. My mouth drops open.
I may technically be a virgin, but I thought I knew a lot about sex and what turned me on. Turns out, I have no clue, because watching my stepdad lick my flavor from his fingers is the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"Garrett," Mom says. "I need you to move your truck. You're blocking me in."
He looks at his watch. "I have to get going, anyway. I'm supposed to pick up a load of reclaimed wood at eight and it'll take me a while to get there."
"Let's go, then," Mom says before turning to me and adding, "Don't be late for school."
"That's right," Daddy says. "Be a good girl."
"Yes, Daddy."
I say it in a bratty voice that has Mom rolling her eyes and turning for the garage. But Daddy stays there for a minute, watching me. His gaze trails down my body, then back up. Then he presses the heel of his hand to the tent in his jeans and lets out a deep groan as he shifts his hips.
"We'll finish this later," he says before turning and following mom out to the garage.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
8.5
Tyla thought Miami was her fresh start. She didn't expect to become the obsession of the city's most dangerous "Golden Boy," Daniel Thorne. He's untouchable, wealthy beyond measure, and used to getting what he wants. And right now? He wants Tyla-body, soul, and everything in between.
But the heat in Miami isn't just from the sun. While Daniel's magnetic pull draws Tyla into a world of high-stakes parties and whispered promises, a blade is being sharpened in the shadows. Summer, the "best friend" who has lived in Tyla's shadow for years, has finally reached her breaking point.
Summer doesn't just want Daniel; she wants Tyla's life. And she's willing to burn both of them to the ground to get it.
9.6
My eyes struggled open, but a heavy weight held them shut. I was paralyzed, trapped in a cold hospital room, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor a cruel reminder of my mother's death. I, Elena Vitiello, who controlled everything, was now helpless, reduced to a slab of meat.
Then I heard his footsteps. Dante. My husband, my anchor. But his voice was chillingly devoid of warmth as he ordered, "Do not increase the dosage. I will not risk damaging the organ's viability." The organ. My mind went blank, ice filling my veins.
Trapped and unable to move, I realized Dante saw me only as a "political placeholder," never loving me. He was having my kidney removed, carved from my body like livestock, to save his mistress, Sofia-the woman whose messes I'd cleaned for ten years. His hand, usually my comfort, smeared away my tear with sheer disgust.
The scalpel tore into my flesh, a blinding, white-hot agony. Every tug and pull hollowed me out, stripping away my potential, my love, my future. How could the man I bled for reduce me to a mere object, a spare part for his true love? The sheer insult of it fueled a volcanic rage.
As my kidney was lifted out, the final illusion of our marriage shattered completely. My fear dissolved, replaced by a chilling, absolute calm. The darkness that embraced me was not defeat, but the coiling silence of a viper preparing to strike. This kidney was not a sacrifice. It was the down payment for Dante Moretti's life.
9.7
I secured the lifeline investment for my fiancé's company and went to his office to surprise him.
Instead, I caught Preston sleeping with his top actress—the woman he publicly claimed as his stepsister.
Through the cracked door, I heard him call me his "scarred, ugly bitch shield" to hide their sickening affair.
I didn't cry. I hacked the live broadcast of the Star Awards and played their sex tape to two thousand people.
But that night, drunk and reeling from the agonizing nerve pain in my facial scar, I stumbled into the wrong hotel penthouse.
I was pinned down by a drugged billionaire, Josephus Hodges.
The next morning, he left me a million-dollar check and a Plan B pill.
When he later tracked me down to offer a cold, calculated fake marriage just to absorb Preston's ruined empire, I threw the contract at his chest and told him to go to hell.
But when I got home and looked in the mirror, the chronic, burning torture in my scar was completely gone.
His touch during that terrifying night had somehow cured the agony that had ruined my life.
I had just declared war on the only man on earth who could heal me.
Just then, my ruined ex-fiancé called, begging me to save him with a PR press conference.
"I'll do it, but I control the venue."
I booked it at Josephus's heavily guarded hotel. I was going to slaughter my ex on live television, and force the apex predator to look at me again.
9.6
For four years, I played the perfect, naive, low-income wife to my wealthy husband Duke, completely hiding my true identity as a top-secret DARPA scientist.
On our anniversary, I discovered he was having an affair with an old-money socialite named Adelia.
He used our marital assets to buy her a half-million-dollar Birkin bag, but that wasn't the worst part.
While hiding in a parking garage, I recorded him telling his mistress that the daily prenatal vitamins he lovingly gave me were actually high-dose contraceptives.
He had secretly sterilized me to ensure I would never produce a "low-class" heir, planning to toss me aside with a tiny settlement in six months.
When I confronted him, he violently attacked me, smashed my head against a marble dresser, and locked me in our bedroom.
I thought of the four years I spent crying in doctors' offices, blaming my own body for my infertility, while he held my hand and comforted me with perfect, monstrous concern.
I didn't wait to be punished.
I climbed down the second-story balcony in the dark, leaving behind every diamond and luxury bag he had ever given me.
Sitting in the back of a taxi, I wiped the blood from my forehead and opened a secure app on my phone.
"Divorce fraud. Initiate sequence."
It was time for him to finally meet Dr. Patterson.
7.2
Five years ago, Elena Moretti walked away from Dominic Russo without explanation-leaving him to face the collapse of his father's empire alone.
Now Dominic is no longer the reckless man she once loved. He's a ruthless billionaire CEO with power, influence... and a memory that hasn't forgotten betrayal.
When he acquires the company Elena works for, he offers her a deal she can't refuse: work under him for six months-or watch her family's name be dragged through a financial scandal from the past.
Forced into close proximity, old wounds reopen and buried secrets threaten to surface. But the more time they spend together, the more dangerous the tension becomes.
Because hatred is easier than forgiveness.
And love?
Love is guilty as sin.
9.0
My father was dying in the ICU, and our family company, the Martin Group, was on the verge of total collapse.
While I was desperately trying to sign the consent form for his life-saving surgery, my fiancé, Eston, sent me a text.
"I told you not to be stubborn. The company is mine by Friday. Beg me, and I might pay for the funeral."
He had been secretly looting my family's assets from the inside, waiting for me to break so he could steal everything. He thought I would crawl back to him in absolute despair, surrendering my father's legacy just to survive. The sheer weight of my helplessness crushed my chest as the heart monitor next to my father's bed let out a frantic, high-pitched scream.
The betrayal tore through me, but the despair quickly hardened into a cold, sharp stone.
Why should I let the man who ruined me dance on my family's grave? Why should I let him walk away with everything while I lost the only family I had left?
I wiped away my tears and blocked his number permanently.
Then, I stepped out into the freezing Manhattan rain and went straight to the top floor of the Maxwell building.
I threw my remaining shares onto the desk of Ellwood Maxwell—the apex predator of Wall Street, and Eston's untouchable, ruthless uncle.
"I want you to marry me," Ellwood said, pushing a marriage contract toward me. "That is the only way your company survives."
I picked up the pen. If Eston wanted to destroy my life, I would become his aunt and make him bow.