Craving my stepdaddy

Learning to be his secret

Bronte’s POV

The days after the wedding blurred into a dangerous new normal.

Rufus was officially my stepdaddy now, and the title only made everything hotter. Every time Mom called him “honey” or kissed him in the kitchen, a dark, possessive jealousy twisted in my stomach. He was hers on paper. But in the shadows, in the stolen moments, he was mine.

We had to be careful. Mom was home more than usual that week, excited about their new life together. She kept planning little family dinners and talking about how happy she was. Every time she said it, I felt a pang of guilt mixed with the thrill of knowing I was f*****g her husband behind her back.

Rufus and I barely had time alone, but we made the most of every second.

One afternoon, Mom was in the garden tending to her flowers. Rufus found me in the laundry room. He didn’t say a word. He just closed the door, locked it, and pushed me against the washing machine.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he growled, his hands sliding under my skirt.

I moaned softly as his fingers found my already wet p***y. “Me too, Daddy.”

He dropped to his knees, pushed my panties aside, and buried his face between my legs. His tongue was relentless licking, sucking, f*****g me with it. The vibrations from the running washing machine added to the sensation. I had to bite my hand to stay quiet as I came hard on his tongue.

He stood up, freed his thick c**k, and bent me over the machine. He thrust into me in one deep stroke, f*****g me hard and fast. The machine’s vibrations traveled through my body as he pounded me.

“You’re mine,” he groaned in my ear. “My dirty little secret.”

I came again, my p***y clenching around him. He filled me with his c*m, holding me tight as he emptied himself.

We barely had time to clean up before Mom called us for lunch.

That night, while Mom was asleep, Rufus snuck into my room. He f****d me slow and deep, his hand over my mouth, whispering how much he loved my tight p***y.

But the guilt was starting to eat at me.

One evening, Mom noticed I was quieter than usual. “Is everything okay, sweetie? You seem distracted lately.”

I forced a smile. “Just college stuff.”

Rufus looked at me across the table, his expression unreadable. But later that night, when Mom was in the shower, he cornered me in the hallway.

“You’re pulling away,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t.”

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “What if she finds out? What if we ruin everything?”

He pulled me into a deep kiss. “Then we’ll be careful. But I’m not giving you up.”

His words both comforted and terrified me.

The next day, Jake started texting me again. My ex was persistent, asking to meet up. I ignored him at first, but when he showed up at the house unannounced, things got complicated.

Rufus saw him from the window. His jaw tightened.

“Who is that?” he asked when I went back inside.

“My ex,” I said.

Rufus’s eyes darkened. “Does he know about us?”

“No,” I whispered. “But he’s suspicious.”

The jealousy in Rufus’s eyes turned me on more than I wanted to admit. That night, he f****d me harder than ever, claiming me like he was marking his territory.

“You’re mine,” he growled as he came inside me. “Not his. Not anyone else’s.”

I was falling deeper.

And I had no idea how to stop.

The next morning, Jake sends me a message saying he saw me looking different and wants to talk, while Rufus reads the text over my shoulder.