Step-Santa (Wanting What’s Wrong #7) Read Online Dani Wyatt

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Mafia, Taboo, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Wanting What's Wrong Series by Dani Wyatt
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
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Spin for me, honeysuckle. Spin and bend, hands on the floor, ass high. Tell Papa you love him while he strips you of your virtue and seals your fate with the splash of my seed against your womb.

Call me Papa when I’m between your legs. Always remember you are my most precious secret, even when I’m fucking you like a dirty little toy.

I fist my girth as it pulses in my hand, giving in yet again as I’ve done more times than I care to remember.

The music lifts to the ceiling. The tips of her toes hold the tentative burden of her slight frame as I spit onto the swollen head of my cock, pre-cum not enough for me to imagine her warm wetness surrounding me.

I know, baby, don’t cry. It’s a lot, I’ll feed it to that unbreeched hole you’ve been saving for me an inch at a time. I want to savor the moment I ripped your purity from your body, your blood splashed on my balls, swirling around my dick like stripes on a candy cane.

I bite back my groan as the pace of my hand blurs. I yank and squeeze, torturing myself for what I feel, but helpless to stop, willing her to give me pleasure even in secret. My balls crawl and ache as my jaw locks.

Her cheeks rise with deep pink as she twirls and twists, the force of her effort showing in the strain on her forehead, in the tendons of her neck, the same way she will strain under me the first time her lithe body takes the brunt force of my obsession with her.

I’ll fuck my granddaughter, by God. I’ll breed her with the impossible weight of the seed in my balls, over and over until she can never get away.

She’s breaking me one arch of her back at a time. She will hate me in the end, I’m sure of it, but that no longer is enough to persuade the demons inside me to do what is right.

Nothing in my life has moved me like she has. Not the birth of my son, nor my own contractual marriage to a heathen of a woman that doubled my fortune but reminded me that I am not a man made for happily ever afters.

Not that I expected one. No, we went into our union knowing the hatred we carried for one another would never diminish. It grew exponentially, but creating an heir to our black kingdom was the only purpose of our marriage.

But, I could never bring myself to fuck my wife. Body and mind refused the consummation, but there was business to be done and we found a way. Night after night, I worked my cock with my hand, spilling my seed into a cup as she stood on the other side of the door, waiting.

From there, she did what she did. It took two months. My fucking dick nearly fell off it was so raw, but she bore a son and our business flourished.

I give myself a few soothing strokes as the music tempo slows, my fingers dancing along my shaft in time with my granddaughter’s graceful movements.

Up and down. Side to side. Faster. Slower.

With every nuance of the dance, the beast inside me grows. The pain in my balls turns my vision sparking white when the final crescendo weaves into the space between us.

Her eyes drift to the empty seats. She knows I’m here, watching, ever present. As she spins, her body turning to a blur, my fist beats up and down, my flesh making a wet tic-tic-tic sound with the fury of my dark pleasure.

I palm the swollen knob, then back down the shaft, clenching harder, strangling the shame from me as I beat off to the vision of her riding me, eyes rolled back, calling me…

Papa.

My chin drops to my chest, my vision blurring before the muscles in my thighs twitch, my grip crushing, my strokes manic.

Come for me, angel. Baptize me with you as I burrow into your untouched body and create a life from my obsession.

A life made from both of us. A life that will bind you here with me forever.

As the final note of the composition plays through the sound system, the floor vibrates and I choke back my depraved bellow. Grabbing the armrest with my other hand, I hold on for my life. Hot spend spurts from the swollen tip of my erection as she takes her final plie, then a bow, head to her knees, arms outstretched as the wicked pleasure turns my blood to flame.

I clench my ass, raising my hips from the cushioned seat, my core lanced with pain and pleasure as the force of my climax speeds my heart and the muscles of my core flex into spasm.

When she falls to the wooden floor of the stage panting, I grit my teeth, my balls heave the last spurts of my releasee. Her legs and arms spread wide with her eyes toward the ceiling. Heated cum drips onto my knuckles and into the seams where my fingers hold a vice grip on the solid steel of my girth.


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