Dark Desires (erotica collections)

Chapter two

Lucia's heels clicked sharply against the marble foyer tiles as she slammed the penthouse door behind her. The Uber ride home had been torture—her body still hummed from the orgasm she'd chased in the backseat, Alexander's name a forbidden chant on her lips. But the afterglow shattered the moment she stepped into the sprawling apartment overlooking the glittering skyline. Anger boiled over the lust, hot and unrelenting. Her father. Four wives down, and now Elena number five. What kind of monster collected women like trophies?She kicked off her shoes, bare feet sinking into the plush Persian rug her mother had picked out years ago—the one pristine thing left from a happier time. The living room was a shrine to Richard's excess: crystal decanters on the bar cart, abstract paintings worth fortunes, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city lights like distant stars mocking her chaos. Lucia poured herself a scotch, neat, the burn matching the fire in her veins. She downed it, then another, pacing like a caged panther. How many, Dad? How many hearts do you plan to break before you're done?The clock ticked past midnight. Elena and Alexander had vanished into the night, their scents—her perfume, his musky cologne—still clinging to her dress like ghosts. Lucia stripped it off in the hallway mirror, admiring the flush on her olive skin, the way her full breasts heaved with each ragged breath. n*****s pebbled in the cool air, begging for touch. She traced them, imagining Alexander's rough hands instead—pinching, twisting, claiming. Stepbrother. The word sent a shameful thrill straight to her core. She was soaked again, thighs slick. But no. Not now. Confrontation first.Headlights swept the driveway below. Her father's Aston Martin purred into the garage. Minutes later, the door opened, Richard striding in with his usual swagger—silver-fox hair tousled, tie loosened, a satisfied grin from whatever post-dinner f**k he'd had with Elena. He froze when he saw her, barefoot and furious in nothing but black lace panties and a silk robe loosely tied."Lucia? You're up late." He tossed his keys on the console, avoiding her eyes."Damn right I am." She blocked his path to the bar, scotch glass clutched like a weapon. "Sit. We need to talk."Richard sighed, theatrical as ever, sinking into the leather armchair. "If this is about Elena—""It's about all of them." Her voice cracked, but she pushed on, years of resentment spilling out. "Wife one: Mom's best friend from college. You f****d her behind Mom's back, got her pregnant, then 'accidentally' knocked Mom up too so you'd have an heir. Divorced her after the kid miscarried. Wife two: the yoga instructor half your age. Lasted eighteen months before you caught her with the pool boy. Wife three: that actress who OD'd on pills after you drained her bank account. And now Elena? Number five? Do you have plenty of love to share, Dad? Or is it just p***y and power?"He flinched, but his jaw set. "Watch your mouth, young lady. Those were mistakes. Elena's different.""Different?" Lucia laughed bitterly, pacing again. The robe slipped open, exposing the curve of her hip, but she didn't care. Let him see her rage. "You're adding her to your list like a f*****g collector. I'm done with this circus. Planning to move out tomorrow. Better than joining the family drama you're creating."Richard's eyes narrowed, the charming facade cracking. He stood, towering over her at six-foot-three, his once-athletic frame gone soft around the middle but still imposing. "You're not going anywhere.""Watch me." She turned toward her room, but his hand shot out, gripping her wrist hard enough to bruise. "Let go!""No." He yanked her close, breath sour with whiskey. "If you do, you'll regret it. I control everything—your trust fund, your car, this roof. Walk out, and I'll make sure you have nothing."Lucia wrenched free, heart hammering. This was the real Richard—not the doting dad act. "Inheritance," she spat. "That's what this is about. Mom's huge inheritance from Grandpa's oil empire. You played the grieving widower after she died, but we both know the truth. You killed her."His face darkened, veins bulging in his neck. "Don't you dare—""You had that affair with Sasha. She was my age, Dad. Twenty-four. Mom found out, walked in on you balls-deep in her best friend's daughter. Heart attack, they called it. Stress-induced. But it was you. Broke her." Tears stung Lucia's eyes, but she blinked them back. "Now you're claiming to be the caring father? Polishing up your image for the lawyers when they divvy up Mom's estate next year. Hypocrite."Richard's laugh was cold, devoid of humor. "Your mother was weak. Clingy. Sasha was fire—tight little body, eager mouth. She begged for it." He stepped closer, eyes gleaming with something ugly. "And you? You're just like her. All fire and curves. But you'll stay. Or I'll spill every destroy the little image your mother had maybe as a woman who cheated on her husband—yours included He smirked. "I have eyes everywhere, Lucia. Move out, and they go viral."She paled, "You bastard.""Family sticks together." He straightened her robe with mock tenderness, fingers lingering too long on the tie. "Elena and Alexander will be good for us. Play nice."Alexander. The name ignited the embers low in her belly. Even now, fury twisting with fear, she pictured him—those lust-filled eyes at dinner, the rock-hard bulge grinding against her ass. If Richard was the devil, Alexander was temptation incarnate. He wants me. The thought made her c**t throb."f**k your family." She stormed to her room, slamming the door. But sleep wouldn't come. She stripped naked, sliding between silk sheets, body alive with conflict. Richard's threat loomed, a cage tightening. Move out? Into what—poverty, exposure? No. She'd play his game, bide her time. But Alexander... he was the wildcard.Her hand drifted down, fingers parting slick folds. She was drenched, arousal spiking at the danger. Stepbrother. Taboo heat flooded her as she circled her c**t, imagining his mouth there—rough tongue lapping, teeth grazing. "Alexander," she moaned softly, plunging two fingers inside. Tight, wet, clenching. He was huge; she'd felt it. Stretching her, pounding relentlessly.In her mind, he kicked open the door now, eyes black with need. "Knew you'd touch yourself thinking of me." He'd rip the sheets away, flip her onto her stomach, ass in the air. Slap—sharp sting on her cheek. "This p***y's mine." Then he'd thrust in, bare, thick c**k splitting her open. She'd scream, beg, come undone as he rutted like an animal, tattooed arms caging her."f**k, yes," she gasped, fingers pumping faster, thumb on her c**t. The orgasm built savage, crashing over her in waves. She bit the pillow to muffle cries, body shuddering.Panting, reality seeped back. Richard's footsteps echoed down the hall—his bedroom door clicking shut. Safe, for now. But tomorrow? Wedding plans. Elena moving in. Alexander under the same roof.Her phone buzzed. Unknown number: Can't stop thinking about that ass. Dream of me, step-sis. -AHeat bloomed anew. How did he get her number? Didn't matter. She typed back, reckless: Nightmares only. Stay away.His reply: Liar. You'll beg for it.She tossed the phone, pulse racing. Drama indeed. But dark desire? That was hers to claim.Morning light filtered through blackout curtains. Lucia woke sticky, sheets tangled, resolve hardening. Coffee brewed, she dressed in yoga pants and a cropped tank—form-fitting, defiant. Richard was at the breakfast bar, newspaper in hand, playing the patriarch."Slept well?" he asked, not looking up."Like a baby." Lie. She poured cereal, ignoring the bruise blooming on her wrist. "When does Elena move in?""Week's end. Alexander too—his place is under renovation." Richard folded the paper, eyes appraising. "Be welcoming."She snorted. "Sure. Family first."He chuckled, but tension simmered. The day blurred: work calls from her home office, dodging Richard's hovering. By evening, her phone lit up again. Alexander: What are you wearing?None of your business.Bet it's something tight. Send pic.Fuck off.Tease. See you soon.Anticipation coiled low. She hated it—hated him. But her body craved the friction.Dusk fell. Doorbell rang. Richard answered, ushering in Elena with boxes, Alexander hauling suitcases like they weighed nothing. His eyes found Lucia instantly, raking her yoga-clad body. Sweat beaded between her breasts from a quick workout; he noticed."Lucia," Elena cooed, hugging her. "Family now!"Alexander set down a bag, closing the distance. "Miss me?""In your dreams." But her voice wavered as his scent enveloped her—clean sweat, cedar cologne.He leaned in, whispering, "Yours too. Saw you squirming last night." How? Spying? The thought thrilled.Dinner was tense domesticity: takeout Thai, forced chatter. Richard dominated, regaling tales of conquests. Elena hung on every word. Alexander's foot found Lucia's again under the table, bolder now. Up her calf, thigh. She gripped her chopsticks, core aching.Later, alone in the kitchen washing dishes, he cornered her. Back to the sink, his body caging. "Dad's a prick, huh?"She stiffened. "Eavesdropper?""Heard the yelling." Hand on her hip, thumb circling. "Stay. Let me make it worth it."His erection pressed her ass—hot, insistent. She arched back instinctively, grinding once. "This is f****d up.""Best kind." Lips grazed her neck. Bite—sharp pleasure-pain.Footsteps. They sprang apart as Richard entered. "Everything good?""Perfect," Alexander said smoothly, winking at her.Night deepened. Lucia locked her door, but fantasies raged. Richard's empire of lies trapped her, but Alexander? He was the key—or the lock.She'd endure. Plot. Seduce the enemy, maybe.