Wet & Wicked: Forbidden Collection Of Lust

Good Girl For Daddy (7)

Elena's POV

I should have screamed.

I should have shoved him off me, slapped that smug, chiseled face, and told him to get the f**k out of my room like any normal twenty-one-year-old would.

But my body didn't get that memo.

My body had other plans. My body had been making other plans since the day mom walked through that front door six months ago with a man twice her age, smelling like old money.

Rick. My stepfather.

"Not until I'm done," he'd said.

And the worst part? The absolutely worst part?

I didn't want him to be done.

"Get off me," I whispered.

But it came out broken. Shaky. Like a prayer I didn't believe in.

He didn't move. His weight pressed me into the mattress, so heavy and warm and so f*****g close I could feel his breath on my lips.

"Say it again," he murmured. His voice was gravel. Low. Dangerous. "Tell me to get off you, Elena. Tell me you don't want this."

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

The truth was that I'd been watching him for six months. Six months of stolen glances across the dinner table. Six months of pretending I didn't notice the way his eyes tracked me when I walked into a room.

Six months of lying in this bed at night with my hand between my legs, imagining it was his fingers. His mouth. His c**k.

The truth was that I hated myself for it.

And I needed it more than I needed air.

"I..." My voice cracked. My eyes burned. Not from anger. From something worse. From want. "I don't... I can't..."

"Can't what, baby girl?"

Baby girl.

The words hit me like a slap. My thighs pressed together involuntarily and I felt myself clench around nothing.

He pulled back just enough to look at me.

His eyes dropped to my chest, to the way my n*****s were cutting through that thin black fabric like they were trying to escape. Then lower. To my bare p***y, glistening and swollen and completely exposed.

His jaw tightened.

"You're so f*****g wet," he said.

"Shut up," I breathed.

"No." His hand came up slowly. One finger traced down my collarbone. Over the valley between my breasts. Down my stomach. I shivered so hard my teeth chattered. "You don't get to shut up. Not tonight. Tonight you tell me the truth."

His finger stopped right above my p***y. Hovering. Not touching.

I nearly sobbed.

"Tell me what you want, Elena."

I wanted to fight him.

God, I wanted to fight him so bad.

I wanted to be the good girl. The one who didn't do this. The one who didn't lie in bed at night thinking about her stepfather's hands on her body. The one who didn't get wet every time he walked into a room with his sleeves rolled up and his forearms thick and veined.

But I wasn't the good girl.

I hadn't been the good girl since the first night mom brought him home. Since I saw the way he looked at her. Possessively and hungry. Like she was his and only his.

And something in me, something dark and twisted and so deeply buried I'd never said it out loud, wanted that. Wanted to be looked at like that. Wanted to be owned like that.

Even if it was wrong. Especially because it was wrong.

My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. And I watched my own fingers reach up and grab the front of his shirt. I pulled him down. Until our foreheads touched and I could feel his breath mingling with mine.

"Punish me," I whispered.

His eyes went black. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." My voice was barely a breath now. My nails dug into his chest. "Punish me, Daddy. For the truck. For making you wait. For being so f*****g wet for you that I can't even think straight."

Something snapped behind his eyes. I saw it. The last thread of restraint. The last wall between us. It crumbled like ash.

He moved so fast I gasped.One hand fisted in my hair hard and pulled my head back. My neck arched. My back bowed off the bed. And his mouth was on my throat, biting, sucking, marking me like he was branding his name into my skin.

"You want to be punished?" His voice was a growl against my pulse. "You want me to treat you like the dirty little girl you are?"

"Yes," I moaned. "Yes, Daddy, please—"

"Please what?"

"Please... please make me forget my name."

He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were wild and feral. The face of a man who'd been holding himself together for six months and had finally, finally let go.

"Your name is Elena," he said slowly. "But tonight? Tonight you don't get a name. Tonight you're mine. You're my dirty girl. My little slut. My w***e. Do you understand?"

A tear slipped down my temple. "Yes, Daddy."

"Say it again."

"I'm your dirty girl."

"Again."

"I'm your w***e, Daddy. Please. I'm your w***e. I've been your w***e since the day you walked into this house. Please just— please—"

He kissed me. He kissed me like he was trying to devour me. His tongue swept into my mouth. My legs wrapped around his waist and I pulled him closer, grinding my bare p***y against his hard c**k through his pants.

He groaned into my mouth. The sound vibrated through my entire body.

"You have no idea," he rasped against my lips, "how long I've wanted to hear you say that."

"Then stop talking," I begged. "And f**k me like you mean it."

He didn't f**k me.

Instead, he moved down my body slowly. Agonizingly. His mouth trailed fire down my throat, over my collarbone, between my breasts. He bit down on my n****e through that thin fabric and I screamed.. My hips bucked off the bed.

"That's it," he murmured against my skin. "Let me hear you. Let everyone in this house hear what you sound like when Daddy's touching you."

"f**k… Rick… Daddy—"

"There it is." He smiled against my chest. "Again."

"Daddy—"

His hand slid between my thighs. One finger. Just one. He dragged it through my wetness slowly, spreading me open, watching my face the whole time.

"Look at you," he whispered. "Soaking wet. Dripping all over my bed. For me. You've been saving this for me, haven't you, baby girl?"

"Yes," I sobbed. "Always. It's always been you. It's only ever been you."

That broke something in him. His control shattered.

He pulled his finger away and I whined at the loss. He didn't f**k me.

That was the cruelest part.

"Rick—"

"Shh." He pressed two fingers to my lips. His eyes were dark. Hungry. But controlled. So f*****g controlled it made me want to scream. "I said not until I'm done. And I'm not done."

He rolled off me and stood at the edge of the bed. I watched him undo his belt.