Daddy’s Obsession

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Sunlight was already pouring through the curtains when Vivienne’s eyes finally opened.

Her body felt heavy. Sore in places she had never been sore before. A deep, throbbing ache pulsed between her legs, and every small shift of her hips sent a dull reminder of everything that had happened the night before. The sheets beneath her were cool, but the solid heat pressed along her back was not.

Arcturus’s arm was locked around her waist, heavy and unyielding. His chest was flush against her back. One of his legs was thrown over both of hers, effectively caging her in place. Even in sleep, he held her like something he refused to let go of.

Vivienne tried to ease forward, just enough to create a little space.

The arm around her tightened instantly.

A low, rough sound rumbled from his chest. Then she felt him stir behind her—the slow inhale, the subtle shift of muscle, the moment awareness returned.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was thick with sleep, but the possessiveness in it was already fully awake.

Vivienne froze.

“I… I need to get up,” she whispered.

“No.” Arcturus’s arm banded tighter, pulling her fully back against him. His lips brushed the nape of her neck. “You’re staying right here.”

Silence stretched between them. Vivienne’s heart was beating too fast. The ache between her legs throbbed in time with it. She could still feel the faint stickiness of dried c*m on her inner thighs. The evidence of what he had done to her.

“Daddy…” Her voice was small. “Why… why did you do that to me?”

Behind her, Arcturus went still for a moment. Then she felt the slow curve of his mouth against her skin—a smirk.

“Because I’ve wanted to for three years,” he said simply. “Since the day you turned eighteen. Since the law stopped protecting you from me.” His hand slid lower, resting flat over her lower stomach. “I watched you grow up in this house. I watched you become this. And every single day I told myself I couldn’t have you. Last night I stopped lying.”

Vivienne’s throat tightened. She wanted to say it was wrong. She wanted to say he was her stepfather. The words sat heavy on her tongue and refused to come out.

Arcturus finally moved.

He sat up, the sheets falling away from his bare chest, and looked down at her. His dark eyes moved slowly over her face, her tangled hair, the faint marks on her neck and shoulders.

“You’re sore,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Before she could answer, he slid an arm under her knees and another behind her back, lifting her out of the bed as if she weighed nothing. Vivienne let out a small, startled sound, her hands flying to his shoulders for balance.

He carried her into the adjoining bathroom without another word.

The shower was already running by the time he set her carefully on her feet inside the glass enclosure. Warm water cascaded over both of them. Arcturus stepped in behind her, chest against her back, and reached for the body wash. He didn’t ask permission. He simply began washing her—slow, thorough, almost clinical in his care. His hands moved over her shoulders, down her arms, across her stomach, between her legs. When his fingers brushed over her sore, swollen folds, Vivienne flinched and sucked in a quiet breath.

He paused only long enough to murmur, “Easy,” before continuing.

They didn’t speak. Vivienne stared at the tiled wall while he washed every inch of her, rinsed the soap away, then shut the water off. He dried her with the same quiet efficiency, wrapping a large towel around her shoulders before leading her back into the bedroom.

He pulled one of his own white long-sleeved polos from the closet and slipped it over her head. The fabric was soft and oversized, falling to mid-thigh. The sleeves hung past her wrists. It smelled like him.

“Arms up,” he said.

She obeyed.

Once the shirt was on, Arcturus looked at her for a long moment—bare legs, damp hair, swimming in his clothes—and something dark and satisfied settled in his expression.

Then he bent and lifted her again, bridal style.

Vivienne squeaked, arms looping around his neck on instinct.

“Daddy—!”

“Quiet.” The word was soft, but it left no room for argument. He carried her out of the bedroom and down the stairs as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The kitchen was bright with late-morning light. The clock on the wall read 10:07 a.m.

Arcturus set her carefully on one of the high stools at the island, then moved around the kitchen with the same calm control he did everything. Coffee. Eggs. Toast. Fruit. He plated everything and placed it in front of her before taking the seat beside her, close enough that their knees brushed.

Vivienne picked at her food in silence. The ache between her legs made sitting uncomfortable. Every small shift reminded her of the night before.

Arcturus watched her for a while before speaking.

“We’re going to Italy.”

Vivienne’s fork paused halfway to her mouth.

“What?”

“A private villa on the Amalfi Coast,” he continued, as if discussing the weather. “Two weeks. We leave in three days. Pack light. You won’t need much.”

She set the fork down carefully.

“I… I was planning to spend the break with Rowena. We talked about going to—”

“No.”

The single word was quiet. Final.

Vivienne’s fingers curled against the edge of the counter. “Daddy, it’s my last semester. We’re about to graduate. I haven’t spent proper time with her in months because of—”

“Because of me,” he finished for her. His dark eyes met hers steadily. “I know. And the answer is still no. You’re coming with me.”

“I don’t get a choice?”

Arcturus leaned in slightly, voice dropping into that low, possessive register that made her stomach twist.

“You stopped having a choice the moment I decided you were mine, Vivienne.” He reached out and brushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture almost gentle. “Last night wasn’t a moment of weakness. It was the end of my restraint. Do you understand what that means?”

She didn’t answer. Her pulse was too loud in her ears.

Arcturus’s hand slid down to rest on her bare thigh, just beneath the hem of his polo. His thumb stroked once, slow and deliberate.

“It means there are new rules,” he said quietly. “Our relationship is forbidden. I know that. You know that. But I am not stepping back. Not now. Not ever. You will not date. You will not let another man near you. You will not disappear with friends for weeks at a time. And when I tell you we’re going somewhere, you will come.”

Vivienne’s throat felt tight. She stared down at her barely touched plate, heart hammering.

“And if I say no?”

Arcturus’s fingers tightened just slightly on her thigh.

“Then I’ll remind you what happens when you disobey me,” he said, voice soft and dangerous. “Last night was only the beginning, my heaven. I suggest you don’t test how far I’m willing to go to keep what’s mine.”

The kitchen fell quiet again.

Vivienne sat there in his oversized shirt, sore and marked and trapped, while her stepfather calmly returned to his coffee as if he hadn’t just rewritten the rest of her life.

She didn’t have a choice.

And the worst part was—

Some small, broken part of her wasn’t sure she wanted one anymore.