Claimed By My Stepdad

Chapter 5

Damien Pov

She looked like sin and vulnerability wrapped in one tempting package, sitting in my armchair with that slinky black dress riding high on her thighs and my expensive whiskey clutched in her delicate hand. The daughter of my wife. My stepdaughter. Twenty-two years old and utterly off-limits.

Yet here she was, in my private sanctuary, lips parted and eyes glazed with alcohol and unspoken need.

I crossed the room in measured strides, the scent of her—whiskey, faint perfume, and the lingering trace of our earlier encounter—hitting me like a drug. When I reached her, I didn’t hesitate. My hand shot out, pushing her firmly back into the deep cushions of the chair. She gasped, the bottle nearly slipping from her fingers as I loomed over her, one knee bracing beside her hip.

“How old are you, Sophia?” My voice came out rougher than I intended, low and demanding. I needed to hear her say it. Needed the reminder of exactly how forbidden this was.

“Twenty-two,” she whispered, her breath warm against my thumb as I traced her lower lip. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated with a mixture of fear and arousal.

Twenty-two. Barely more than a girl compared to my forty years. My wife’s daughter. I should stop this now. Walk away. Pour myself a drink and send her to the guest room like a responsible stepfather. The rational part of my mind—the cold, controlled businessman—screamed at me to end it.

But then she shifted slightly in the chair, her dress sliding higher, revealing the smooth, fresh skin of her inner thighs. Those soft, untouched-looking laps parted just enough to tease me with the shadowed promise between them. Heat surged through my veins like wildfire. My c**k thickened instantly, pressing hard against the confines of my trousers, heavy and insistent.

Fuck.

The sight of her like this—flushed cheeks, whiskey-glazed lips, legs slightly open in my chair—shattered the last thread of my restraint. I had tasted her earlier in the hotel, had felt her tight heat clenching around me as she came undone, but seeing her here, in my room, made it infinitely more dangerous. More addictive.

I pushed her down further, my palm firm on her chest until her back met the cushions fully. “You shouldn’t be here,” I growled, even as my other hand slid up her thigh, fingers digging into that soft, fresh flesh. “You have no idea what you’re asking for, princess.”

Her breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping her lips. That sound went straight to my c**k, making it throb painfully. I was rock hard now, thick and aching, the head already leaking with need. I wanted to ruin her properly this time. Not the controlled encounter in the hotel, but something darker, more possessive.

I leaned down, my mouth hovering just above hers. “Tell me to stop,” I demanded, giving her one last chance even as my fingers traced higher, brushing the damp heat between her legs. She was already wet. Soaking.

She didn’t tell me to stop.

Instead, her hips lifted slightly, seeking my touch. The movement snapped what remained of my control. I captured her mouth in a bruising kiss, my tongue delving deep as I shoved the dress up to her waist. My hand cupped her p***y possessively, fingers stroking her slick folds before sliding inside her tight channel.

She moaned into my mouth, her body arching. I pumped my fingers slowly at first, then faster, curling them to hit that spot that made her tremble. My thumb circled her swollen c**t with relentless pressure. All the while, my c**k strained against my zipper, thick and heavy, demanding to be buried inside her.

I broke the kiss, moving my mouth to her neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin hard enough to leave marks. “This is wrong,” I rasped against her throat, even as I added a third finger, stretching her.

“But I’m going to f**k you anyway. Right here in my bed. Until you can’t walk tomorrow without remembering who owns this p***y now.”

Her answering moan was all the permission I needed.

I pulled her up from the chair, lifting her easily and carrying her to the bed. I pushed her down onto the black sheets, spreading her legs wide as I stood above her, finally freeing my thick, aching c**k from my trousers. It sprang out, heavy and veined, the head glistening.

Sophia’s eyes widened at the sight, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

I climbed over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. “Look at me,” I commanded. “This is your last chance to say no.”

She didn’t say no.

I thrust into her in one powerful stroke, burying myself to the hilt in her tight, wet heat. The feeling was exquisite—hot, silky, and so f*****g tight. I groaned deeply, holding still for a moment to savor it, before I began to move. Hard. Deep. Possessive strokes that claimed every inch of her.

“Mine,” I growled against her ear as I f****d her. “Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasped, her body rocking with every thrust, fresh moans spilling from her lips.

I lost myself in her—pounding harder, my thick c**k stretching her with every stroke, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room. This wasn’t gentle. This was raw, taboo, and utterly consuming.

And I knew, even as I drove us both toward shattering release, that one night would never be enough.