Dirty Daddy:A Secret Baby Bad Boy Romance(7)

By: Alexis Angel

“Yeah, graduated just a few months ago,” she replies as I pour some wine in both our glasses. “And you? Still a rich bastard, right?”

“Still a rich bastard, yeah,” I smile, the sound of her voice making me more lightheaded than the fucking wine itself. We keep on talking about nothing and everything, two strangers bridging the divide between them. It’s a struggle to keep the inner beast inside of me in chains, but I somehow manage to do it.

“This feels right, doesn’t it?” I find myself saying, not even knowing why the fuck I’m saying it.

“What feels right?”

“Being here. Being a rich bastard gets lonely, you know? And you’re family.” She laughs at that, her clear voice feeling like a thorn in my heart.

“Lonely? You seem anything but lonely, Magnus.” She twirls the wine inside her glass, her eyes locked on mine, and I have to wait a few heartbeats before my brain starts to decode her words. “In fact, have you ever been alone? There’s always a woman hanging on your arm. Hell, more than one, sometimes.”

“What can I say?” I shrug, and then finish my wine. “Women are like a good wine. You can never have enough.”

“Maybe that’s because you’ve never come across a real woman.”

“Tell me where I can find one and I’ll gladly let you know how that goes,” I smile, leaning forward slightly, the scent of her perfume climbing up to my brain and making it boil.

She leans forward as well, and I can’t help but let my eyes fall from her full lips to her cleavage, the round swell of her breasts calling to me like a fucking drug.

“Maybe that real woman is off limits,” she says, lowering her voice, and I find my mouth going dry.

“And maybe I don’t have any limits,” I reply, even though I know I’m walking on the edge of a razor. Whatever I say, though, there are a few lines I won’t cross, and fucking my own stepdaughter is one of these lines. As long as this is just harmless fun, I’m happy to play along, but don’t think I’ll pull the fucking trigger.

“So I’ve heard. You really live life on your terms, don’t you? It must be nice,” she continues, but this time I notice a judgmental tone in her words.

“I live life on my terms, yeah. I don’t hide and run from who I am or what I want. That doesn’t mean I’m the monster some people think I am.”

“Then who are you, Magnus Davion?” she asks me, and the reply shapes itself up in my mouth before I can think of it.

“That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?” I say, and this time there’s no snappy comeback from her. She just gazes at me, a contemplative expression on her face, and then she bursts into a laugh.

“We’ll see about that,” she chuckles, biting down on her lower lip as a grin takes over her mouth. I look back at her, my heart giving up and picking up the pace. Warm blood rushes through my veins, and I feel my cock hardening under my boxer briefs.

Two words to the manager. That’s all it would take for me to empty the whole restaurant and have the room to myself. Two words to the manager and I could be alone with Penny in here. I can already imagine the straps of her dress falling down her shoulders as I kiss her neck from behind, my crotch pressed against her ass… Forget all about money and world peace; right now, the thing I want most in the world is to bend her over this table and have my way with her.

Here’s one thing you should know about me, though: I’m a man of my fucking word, and I promised myself this would be a family reunion    , not a fucking date. And so I just laugh with her and finish my fucking dinner and wine.

All while trying to forget the raging hard-on inside of my pants.

Fuck, you know what? The moment I’m out of this place, I’m going to call those strippers from the other night, and ask them if they have any friends. Because, as it is, I doubt three strippers will be enough to sate my hunger. Maybe Penny’s right—maybe I’ve never come across a real woman.

After we finish dinner, I pick up the tab (despite Penny’s insistence we split it up), leave a large tip, and then we both leave.

“This was nice,” she smiles, taking her cellphone out of her purse. “We should do this again.” I see an Uber icon popping up on her cellphone screen and I reach for her phone, taking it out of her hands and close the app.

“You’re not taking an Uber. I’ll take you home.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I just throw her a look that says this isn’t up for debate and she remains silent. Half a minute after that and my limo halts right in front of us. Without waiting for the driver to get out, I open the door and step aside for Penny to get in. I settle in by her side and, the moment I lock the door behind me, the limo starts rolling down 7th Avenue.

“I’ve never been in a limo before,” Penny says, but what I hear is I’ve never fucked in a limo before. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Me either,” I say with a teasing smile, and she laughs and places her hand on my knee. My heart jumps hard, electricity spreading to my muscles and making me tense up like a nocked arrow.

She looks at me, her eyes slowly falling down to my lips, and I realize that I could have her now. Right fucking now. Just one kiss and there’d be no coming back. But I’m not going to fucking bend and break. She’s my fucking stepdaughter, and that’s a landmine field I don’t want to walk on.

I turn my gaze away from her, trying to calm myself down, and she takes her hand off of my knee, perhaps taking the hint. She then starts looking around the limo, playing with the buttons and displays just like a young kid would do. At the press of one button, a compartment opens up slowly and a small tray with champagne and two glasses slides out from a panel on the wall right by my side.

“Oh, champagne,” she cries out, getting up from her seat. She tries to sit on my other side, the one closest to the champagne compartment, but the limo suddenly jumps up and sways as it goes over a bump in the road.

Next thing I know, she’s on my lap, her ass pressed against my crotch.

“Oops,” she whispers, a devious grin on her lips. I’m not even fucking breathing anymore. Fuck that; I can’t even think. “Sorry,” she continues, without getting off of my lap. Instead, she sways her hips slightly, rubbing her ass against my cock as it stiffens up.

Instinct kicks in and, before I can stop myself, I place my hands on her waist. I exhale sharply, feeling my hard cock pressed tight between her ass cheeks, and I grit my teeth.

“Stop,” I manage to say, that simple word feeling like a brick inside my mouth. “Stop if you know what’s good for you.”

“Why?” she asks, turning around so that she’s facing me. Her lips are slightly parted, just like an invitation.

“If we do this, we’re fucked,” I say, my heart pounding against my ribcage. “I’m your dad.”

“Stepdad,” she corrects me, her voice wrapping itself around my brain and choking out all rational thought.

“We can’t. We --” she places her index finger over my lips, shutting me up, and her lips curl into the most sinful smile I’ve ever seen.

“We can, and we will,” she breaths out, the scent of her body driving me fucking crazy. Then, as an afterthought, she continues: “I’ve wanted this for too long.”




I know that it's wrong, trying to seduce my father. Sure, he's my stepfather. But ... well, even if it makes a difference, does it make enough of a difference? No one here needs to be the judge of that right now. I've got a fire in my stomach that is pushing me forward. That nagging thought in my brain that wanted me to resist? I've basically got lust in my stomach that's jumping up and down. You know, if something could actually be in my stomach and jump up and down on a thought I was having. Yeah.

The point is, my pussy is getting wetter by the second. It started out with just a little bit of dampness, but soon the wetness is going to soak into my thong. The moment I landed on his lap and felt his cock hardening against my ass, I knew there was no turning back from this. My body demands his.

I look at him—my stepfather—and I need him.

""I’m glad we’re here, Daddy," I say, letting my words be sharp enough to sting us both. Let the flames of what's right, wrong, or otherwise just plain scandalous to sear right through us because my entire body knows right now that I want this. I inhale, running my tongue over my lips slowly, then closing my mouth and scraping my teeth over my lower lip. I look up at him and put on my most innocent look. "I'm so glad we..." I slide out from his lap and, sitting by his side, I scoot closer to him in the limo so our legs are pressed together, and I grip his thigh. "Reconnected," I finish my sentence, and look up into his eyes.

They narrow and take me in. Oh, there's no way that he doesn't know I'm hitting on him. I flirted all through dinner. He tried to be good, but I know he wants me just as much as I want him. The man who painted a cheerleader with cum on a Jumbotron is being coy with me now. I know that there's a real beast beneath this princely facade, and I'm looking forward to breaking him free.

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