Step Stalker

Emotion makes the tip of my nose sting momentarily. “Thank you.”

“I’m only telling the truth, Lula.” He exhales roughly, shifting his hips, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “You’re a fucking treasure. Don’t ever doubt it. Okay?”

“Okay,” I breathe, my nipples puckering painfully, my nerve endings waking up and dancing like they’ve been dormant, waiting for this man to arrive and touch me.

“You do have one serious problem, though,” Vale says in a gruff voice beside my ear, his chest rising and falling heavily underneath me. “And we need to discuss it.”

“I-I do? We…do?”

He unwinds my hair from his fist, trailing that hand over my shoulder, collarbone and down to my breasts. Kneading the left one once through my dress, before sliding his hand down the front of my bodice, dipping those long fingers into my bra and fondling me, skin to skin. “I’ve only been here half a day, Lula, and I can see…you’ve been parenting yourself. Isn’t that right?” He unsnaps the front of my bra, groaning deeply in his throat when my breasts tumble free into his waiting hands. “They live in their own world, don’t they? Letting you disappear into crowds at the airport. Camping. You’re not getting the attention you need. Or the protection.”

There is so much truth to what he’s saying.

Of course, I’m able to camp and handle myself in public alone.

But. There’s no denying that I do feel like I’m fending for myself all the time.

There’s no denying how isolated I am in my own home. Isolated just like Vale.

My stepbrother lifts his head briefly, his lips leaving my neck as he glances around the room, making sure we’re not being watched. He pulls the blanket over the top of us more securely, covering us from neck to feet. When he’s finished with the task, his hand doesn’t return to my breasts, though.

No, it cups my knee, squeezing. Slowly. Then his fingertips climb beneath the hem of my dress, traveling higher, higher up my inner thigh. Knowing instinctively where he’s heading, I bite my lip and squirm a little in Vale’s lap, earning a “shhh” from his gorgeous mouth.

When he’s halfway to the juncture of my thighs, he seems to lose patience and grips my sex roughly, his breath releasing in a rush. I have to throw my head back against his shoulder and concentrate on holding back my climax. The very act of him touching me there is enough to blow my hormones sky high. His hand is warm and strong and possessive, his palm perfectly curved to my mons, his fingertips digging into the giving flesh of my femininity. “I mean what I say, Lula. You need more attention. Better care. My father obviously isn’t qualified to parent you way you need.” He begins to massage me gently, teasing the flesh inside my underwear. “This pussy needs a Daddy, doesn’t it, princess?”

A seismic ripple passes through me, my thighs jerking closed around his hand, and it’s everything I can do to keep from panting in the too quiet, too crowded den. I never would have expected my body to react to that sentiment so eagerly. But it does. I do want this capable man to care for me. I want to soak up his attention like a sponge that has been left out and forgotten too long. I’ve never had a strong male support figure in my life. Not one that made me feel safe. Not one that took an interest in me.

Even if Vale’s presence in the house is only temporary, I can’t help but gravitate toward it. Wanting to hear more. Wanting to live inside this feeling of being cherished and secure.

This pussy needs a Daddy, doesn’t it, princess?

“Yes,” I finally answer, as quiet as a mouse.

I might as well have shouted it based on his reaction. He groans long and guttural into my shoulder, his shaft growing impossibly large beneath me, pressing up into the split of my bottom. Unfettered now, I open my thighs back up and rub against him, waiting in breathless anticipation to find out what his touch will do to me next.

I don’t have long to wait to find out.

Those thick fingers slip into my panties, delving into the ample wetness, parting my folds with a slow, purposeful stroke. “Fuck. That is sweet.” His middle finger drags up and back in the valley of my flesh, making me whimper. “Actually thought I could leave in three days without a backward glance, but that’s not going to happen, is it? This needs to be guarded at all costs. Needs to be raised right. That’s what I’m here for now, Lula, you get me?”

There is no way to process the meaning behind what he’s telling me—or if he means something more serious than my brain can currently grasp—I’m too caught up in the maelstrom of sensation. The winding up of storm clouds in my tummy. Especially when the pad of his middle finger grazes my clit for the first time, then moves faster and faster on the small, sensitive bud, shooting lust and urgency straight down to my toes.