Daddy's Stepstalker (Daddy's Little Deviants)

“No, Shaw. I’m done with this. He’s a pathological liar. I’ve known him longer than you, and as your wife, I need you to trust me on this. I’m not comfortable coming home to this…deviant.”

“Anne —”

“Don’t Anne me. I’m pretty sure he stole those diamond earrings you bought me.”

I gasped, clutching my hand to my chest. “Why’d you say that? I’d never steal from you. You’re my mother, and I love you.”

“Anne, you need to cut that boy some slack.” Daddy shook his head when she opened her mouth to speak. “We all need to sleep on this. We’re tired and we need a break from each other before we make any more accusations and say things we don’t mean. Ari, go to your room and stay there for the rest of the night unless you need to use the bathroom.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

My mom gritted her teeth, but this was one thing I’d never give up. I intended to call Shaw Daddy until they all admitted he was my Daddy. She stole him from me. I saw him first when I tried to win a stuffie from a carnival game. My attempts had been in vain, but we’d started talking, and I would take that as a win.

“For god’s sake, take my shoes off!”

I ignored Mom and hurried out of the room. Would they see how well I walked in those heels? This wasn’t the first time I wore them. I’d been practicing every chance I got. Heels were sexy, and when I paired them with the lingerie, I looked hot. Daddy was so busy trying to calm down Mom, though, I doubted he noticed.

“Bitch,” I cursed under my breath.

In my bedroom, I kicked off the shoes and lined them up in my closet next to my high tops. I dropped down onto my bed and waited. It didn’t take too long before they came up the stairs, Daddy reassuring Mom that it would all be fine.

Almost an hour passed when a knock sounded on the bedroom door. I was lying across my bed with my head dangling over the edge, enjoying the rush of blood flowing the wrong way. The last time Mom and I had a confrontation, she slapped me silly. I swore my ears rang for a week. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to her right now.

“Ari, may I come in?”

Daddy.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He’d changed into gray sweatpants, the ones that showed off his ass so well. And when he wasn’t wearing any underwear? I’d use the image as spank bank material for days.

“What are you doing?” He stopped at the foot of the bed.

“Thinking.”

He sat beside me. “Sit up for a minute, will you?”

He was being so serious that I didn’t argue. I slowly pulled myself upright and crossed my legs, spreading the fabric of the lingerie around me.

“Are you going to send me away?” My stomach clenched at the idea. “Please don’t let her send me away. Not to him. Please don’t.”

Daddy slung his arm around me and pulled me into his side. “Shh, I’m not going to send you away.”

“Swear it,” I begged. “Swear on your life that no matter what she says, you’ll never send me away.”

“Ari, I—”

“Please, you have to.”

He kept silent, and I jerked out of his arms. What a fool I was to believe he would go against my mom. Without a word, I shuffled off the bed and walked over to the window that overlooked the quiet suburban street we lived on. I was badly in need of a smoke, but I couldn’t take out my pack of cigarettes with him here. I couldn’t let him see that side of me.

I’m his sweet little Ari. Always will be.

“Ari, I’m not going to let her send you away,” he said from behind me. “You’re a part of this family. I know everything’s not good for you right now, but if I’m going to get your mother to lighten up on you, you’re going to have to work harder at being nicer to her. She’s your mom.”

“One who tells me she regrets having me,” I replied stiffly. That sort of remark would fuck with your mind when you were only eight the first time you heard it.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it. Your mom had a tough time raising a child on her own. You understand, don’t you?”

No, I didn’t. I never would. Not when the image of her screaming into my eight-year-old face that she wished she never had me was stuck in my mind forever. I hated her. I hated my mom, but for him, maybe I could pretend.

I was good at pretending. Like right then. He didn’t know how much I wanted to back him up against the bed and climb on top of him.

“Okay, I’ll try.”

I saw his reflection behind me as he got up from the bed and approached me. I held my breath. If only he would slip his arms around my waist and kiss my neck. Instead, his hand came down on my head, and he stroked my hair. It was almost better than the kiss I wanted, and I melted into his touch.

“That’s a good boy,” he said softly. “Just a bit confused, but you’re a good son.”

It took everything out of me not to go down on my knees for him, but it wasn’t the time. If I did it now when I was still in school, he would only start believing what Mom said about me. So I kept my mouth shut and took pleasure in him stroking me like the good boy he thought I was.