Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
6
Daniel
I’m wandering around the house wanting to punch the fucking wall.
This is my fucking house. The house that I want to put for sale so that I can get some fucking money for the business that supports this goddamn family. I shouldn't feel this way, but all of a sudden, everything seems to have been turned upside down.
If the business were profitable right now, I wouldn’t have called both Colt and Karen to come and spend some time here to try and figure things out. They act as if it’s painful to be in their family home. So what’s the big deal in selling it?
Besides, this is the business that helped pay off the home loan when Linda was sick. The business that helped Clara when she went into rehab, the first and the second time. This is the business that pays for those vacations they want to get away to. For the college tuition. For the La Perla lingerie that Karen is probably wearing right now.
God, dear sweet Karen. Whether it’s anger or lust, or a combination of both, I just want to grab her and throw her on my knee and rip off those yoga pants and spank her. Rip that $500 lace thong off her ass and run my finger along her ass crack and make her fucking moan.
I hate the idea that both Karen and Colt are acting as if I’m some gold digger when that’s far from the truth. Especially when getting the funds doesn’t just mean a cash injection for the business, but that’s something that they don’t need to know about. I just need the house sold, the funds distributed, and then we can all get on with our lives.
I decide to go into the kitchen and look around. I should drink something. Something that will take away the pain that I’m feeling at the moment. It's a strange feeling being in this house with Colt and Karen again. They aren't children anymore. And I'm thinking of them in ways I never did in the past.
And not just Karen. I know how fucking gorgeous Karen is.
But why am I thinking about Colt?
Why does my cock get hard when he stands up to me? When he calls me selfish?
This is too fucking weird. I’m his fucking stepdad.
It’s one thing to be lusting after my stepdaughter. But my stepson too? This has got to be crossing some sort of line.
I look around the kitchen and catch sight of an amber-colored bottle. I realize it's my favorite scotch.
I take out the bottle of scotch and feel the weight of it in my hand. I look at the label and watch the overhead light pierce the amber liquid. Then, I grab a couple of blocks of ice, and dump them into a glass. Just as I finish pouring the scotch, Karen stumbles into the kitchen. She’s got her ear buds in; she's swinging her hips to music I can't hear and she doesn’t realize that I’m standing by the sink.
I watch her. Taking in her sight. Drinking in her beauty.
Those luscious curves.
Those mouth-watering hips.
She gives a start as she turns around and sees me watching her.
“Daniel, you scared me!” She nearly drops her plate as her arms fly up, so I quickly grab it from her.
“You went to eat in your room?”
Silly question, because the evidence is right in front of me.
“Yes, you and Colt were going at it, and I just didn’t want to get involved,” she responds and I wince.
She takes back the plate and wipes it before putting it in the dishwasher. I watch her bend over, and the same feeling that came over me at the pool washes over me again. The one that I shouldn’t be feeling, the one I had when she was playing with Colt, when her lips curled in a smile and her tits jumped up and down. My cock jerked and I didn’t look at her as if she was my daughter; I felt like a jealous ex-lover looking at their ex move on with a new lover.
“Just tell me one thing,” I ask.
Maybe I drank the scotch a bit too quickly because I can’t get my eyes off her ass.
Is it me or did she just lick her lips
“Anything you want…” she says, before her eyes travel my body. “Daddy.”
All of a sudden blood rushes to my brain.
We’re playing a different game now.
This isn’t the innocent little girl that used to hide in the closet.
This is a courtesan of the 21st century.
I give her my undivided attention, “Sorry, I must've drank a bit too much. I just feel a bit disorientated. Maybe we can talk in the living room.”
She hesitates in agreeing, “Where’s Colt?”
“Oh, he left a while ago. I’m not even sure if he’s coming back,” I start to mumble as I feel guilty about Colt leaving and the fact that he feels that Linda’s memory means nothing to me. I loved his mom; he must know that. I was never the bad guy when it came to being a husband to Linda.