Sins Of The Flesh: A Taboo Collection

Chapter 7.

Layla's POV.

The scent of garlic and herbs filled the kitchen as I stirred the pasta sauce, but my mind was nowhere near the food.

Cum continued to leak slowly down my inner thighs, a warm, sticky reminder of how thoroughly Marcus had claimed me against the entryway table. I hadn’t been allowed to wipe it away completely just only enough so I could move without it dripping onto the floor. Every step made me acutely aware of the slick mess between my legs, the way my well-f****d p***y still fluttered with aftershocks.

Marcus sat at the dining table behind me, sipping whiskey and watching me work. His eyes burned into my back, occasionally dropping to the hem of my short pleated skirt where fresh trails of his seed were beginning to show.

“You’re dripping again,” he observed casually, his voice carrying that calm authority that made my stomach tighten. “Spread your legs a little wider while you cook. I want to see it.”

My cheeks flamed, but I obeyed, stepping my bare feet apart. The cool air kissed my exposed, c*m-smeared p***y. I could feel a thick drop escape and slide down toward my knee.

Marcus hummed in approval. “Good girl. That’s exactly how I want you from now on, marked, filled, and ready for more.”

My phone buzzed on the counter, and I glanced at it nervously. s**t! A video call from my Mom.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I froze, the spoon hovering over the pot.

Marcus stood slowly and came up behind me, his large body pressing against my back. One hand slid under my skirt from behind, two thick fingers pushing into my c*m-filled cunt without warning. I bit back a moan, gripping the counter.

“Answer it,” he ordered quietly against my ear. “And keep stirring. Act normal.”

My hands shook as I accepted the call and propped the phone against the spice rack. My mother’s face appeared on the screen, smiling from what looked like a sleek Singapore hotel room.

“Hi, sweetheart! How are you settling in? I miss you already.”

“Hi, Mom,” I managed, my voice only slightly strained. Marcus’s fingers were moving slowly inside me, curling against that perfect spot while his thumb brushed my c**t. “I’m… good. Just making dinner.”

“You look a little flushed. Are you feeling okay?” My Mom asked. Of course, I look like a tomato now.

Fuck!

Marcus chose that moment to thrust his fingers deeper, scissoring them to spread me open. I had to lock my knees to stay upright.

“Yeah, just… the kitchen’s warm,” I lied, biting my lip hard as pleasure coiled low in my belly. “How’s the new job?”

My Mom launched into a story about meetings and time zones, completely oblivious. Meanwhile, Marcus f****d me steadily with his fingers from behind, his free hand reaching around to pinch and roll my n****e through my blouse. I fought to keep my breathing even, stirring the sauce with trembling hands while my p***y clenched greedily around his invading fingers.

“You’re being such a good girl for Daddy,” Marcus whispered so softly only I could hear, using the word that always made me melt. “Taking my fingers while you talk to your mother like nothing’s happening.”

My eyes fluttered. I was dangerously close to coming.

“Mom, I should go, dinner’s almost ready,” I said quickly, my voice pitching higher than normal.

“Alright, honey. Give Marcus a hug for me. Tell him thank you for taking such good care of you.”

Marcus’s fingers sped up, his thumb pressing firm circles on my c**t. “I will,” I gasped. “Love you.”

I ended the call just as the orgasm crashed over me. My knees buckled, but Marcus’s strong arm around my waist held me up as I came hard and silently, biting my lip bloodily to stay quiet. My p***y spasmed around his fingers, milking them while more of his earlier load was pushed out around them.

When the waves finally subsided, Marcus withdrew his hand and brought his glistening fingers to my mouth. I cleaned them obediently, tasting myself and his c*m mixed together.

“Close call,” he murmured, kissing the side of my neck. “You almost came while talking to your mother. That would have been interesting.”

I leaned back against him, boneless. “You’re going to get us caught,” I whispered, half accusation, half thrill.

Marcus turned me around to face him, lifting me onto the counter so my bare ass rested on the cool granite. He stepped between my spread thighs, his c**k already hard again and pressing against my slick entrance.

“No,” he said firmly, his eyes dark with possession. “I’m going to train you so well that even if she walks in on us, you’ll still spread your legs for me.”

He pushed inside me in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt in my c*m-slick p***y. I moaned loudly this time, wrapping my legs around his waist as he started f*****g me right there on the kitchen counter.

The angle was perfect, deep, grinding strokes that made me feel every thick inch. Marcus gripped my ass, spreading my cheeks as he drove into me.

“Tell me you want it,” he growled. “Tell me you want your stepfather to breed you while your mother is gone.”

“I want it,” I sobbed, clinging to his shoulders. “Breed me, Sir. Fill me up again. I want your baby inside me.”

The words spilled out easier every time. The risk of my Mom returning, the risk of my life changing forever, only made the pleasure sharper.

Marcus f****d me harder, the sound of our bodies slapping together mixing with the simmering sauce on the stove. “Good girl. Such a perfect little breeding slut. I’m going to keep this womb full every single day until it takes.”

He reached between us and rubbed my c**t in tight circles. I came again within minutes, crying out his name as my p***y fluttered and squeezed around his c**k.

Marcus followed right after, groaning deeply as he pumped another heavy load deep inside me. He stayed buried, grinding slowly to ensure every drop stayed where he wanted it.

When he finally pulled out, he watched with satisfaction as a thick stream of c*m leaked from my stretched hole onto the counter.

“Leave it,” he ordered when I reached down. “We’ll eat dinner like this. You sitting in my c*m while we talk about your day.”

We ate at the table with my skirt hiked up, my bare, leaking p***y on display. Marcus asked me detailed questions about my classes, making me describe every moment while his seed continued to drip out of me.

After dinner, he took me upstairs and f****d me again, this time slower, more possessive, in my own childhood bed. He made me ride him, his hands on my hips guiding me as I bounced on his thick c**k, my sore ass slapping against his thighs.

“Imagine it,” he whispered as I neared another orgasm. “Your belly starting to swell in a few weeks, t**s getting fuller, everyone wondering who knocked up the good girl. Only we’ll know it was your stepfather breeding you right under this roof.”

The fantasy pushed me over the edge again. I came with a broken moan, collapsing onto his chest as he filled me for the third time that evening.

I laid lumped against him, tangled together with him, his hand resting possessively over my lower belly.

“I bought a pregnancy test today,” he said quietly, stroking my skin. “We’ll start checking in a couple of weeks. But even if it’s negative at first… I’m not stopping. I want you pregnant, Layla. Carrying my child. Tied to me forever.”

I shivered, pressing closer despite the fear blooming in my chest. He was married to my Mom, why did he want me pregnant with his child?

The consequences were no longer distant, they were becoming terrifyingly real. My Mom would be home in five months. College, my future, my entire life could shatter if this went wrong.

Yet when Marcus kissed my forehead and whispered “Good girl,” the warmth spreading through me drowned out the fear.

I was falling deeper every day, and the scariest part was how much I didn’t want to stop.