The Naughty

Naughty

I pulled a face, genuinely shocked.

"You think I'm worried about keeping this place? I mean, sure, it's nice, but I couldn't give a toss whether I have a nice four-bed detached or not. The apartment is plenty enough for me."

"Hasn't the apartment sold already?"

"No. I could pack up and be back there in an hour if I wanted to. I could get straight on to the agent in the morning and tell her I was pulling it from sale, no big deal."

There was silence between us as she tried to digest it. Both of us drunk and lost for words.

"I really thought you were staying here because you had to," she said. "I didn't think you had a choice."

"Well, now you know, don't you?"

Another silence as she tried to digest it, and I didn't fill it in with pointless words.

Her breaths were shallow when she spoke next. "I don't really hate you, Kyle, I just pretend I do. It always makes it easier to think people hate me, then it doesn't hurt so bad when I find out it's really true."

I swallowed hard, trying to stay detached from her. Just enough to keep my wits and my cool.

She twirled her hair. "You know, when I was little, I thought my mum bought me things because she loved me, now I know it was because she didn't. She'd always tell me I was a good girl and hand over presents, like they showed me she cared. She was lying, though. She never gave a shit. It was just an easy way to pretend she did. An easy form of compensation."

I shrugged. "People show love in different ways."

"She doesn't show love inanyway. Nobody does. I've been bad my whole life and nobody says a thing. Nobody stops me. Nobody cares. Mum would sigh and tell me to be good and offer me a reward if I did as I was told. She did it to shut me up, not because she gave a stuff about my behaviour. If she could shut the door on me and let me get on with being a spiteful little brat, she would do," she paused. "She'd only buy me off when it was necessary. Usually when she had friends over or work to be doing."

My heart was thumping like crazy. "That's crazy talk. Your mother is your mother. She cares.Peoplecare."

"No, they don't. And I don't blame them." She twisted her fingers on her lap. "Iamthe stupid, bad bitch everyone says I am."

I've always hated the victim mentality. Even coming from her with a tear-streaked face, it irritated the shit out of me.

"It's always a choice, sweetheart. You choose who you want to be. Only you can change your behaviour."

Only that was bullshit, and I knew it. I could change her behaviour with a few decent slaps on her ass and some proper fucking discipline.

She opened her legs a little, almost imperceptibly. Almost. There was something unspoken between us. A tension building. That's when I guessed she knew theonly you can change your behaviourcrap was bullshit too. She knew as well as I did that someone like me could change her behaviour with a decent amount of guidance.

I didn't think she'd risk voicing it out loud. The alcohol must have been flowing rampant through her brain to even consider it, but she did.

"Maybe I want to be bad, hey? Maybe I hope one day someone will care enough to stop me... to put me in my place and make me behave."

"You're drunk," I stated the obvious.

"So? What if I am? It doesn't make any difference, does it? I'm only telling the truth."

"You need to go to bed," I said. "Now."

"I have secrets, Kyle..."

"Don't we all," I muttered, then took another breath. "Get your ass up to bed, Aimee. Sleep it off."

"I'm not lying. I haverealsecrets. I write about them in my diary. I write about you,too."

"Go to bed, Aimee." I fixed her in the most serious stare I could muster, part of me begging her to leave, the other part daring her to stay.

She sighed and steadied herself, pulling her legs away from me and raising herself from the sofa. "Fine. Goodnight then,Daddy."

I held my breath until she was long gone.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Aimee's bedroomlight was on as I made my way upstairs. I walked past quickly, not entirely trusting my urges.Stepdaughter, stepdaughter, stepdaughter.The mantra should have rammed some perspective into my swollen fucking balls, but all it did was stoke me higher. I ditched my suit and took a shower, acoldshower – scrubbing my skin to citrus-scented purity, desperate to scrub heroutof me.

But the glimpse of her white lace panties held firm, blazing bright behind my eyeballs. My mouth watered, hungry for the scent of silky young pussy, hungry for the dirty little girl down the hallway. She'd be satin soft, her tight little cunt so eager for my fingers, so eager forme. I turned up the shower to hot, lowering my head until the force of the jet scorched my shoulders. The water surged around my ears, drowning out the world, but I was all out of fight.

With a groan I relented and reached for my cock. In my deviant mind Aimee was reclining on her bed, head lolling back against frilly white pillows, blonde curls splayed like a clichéd golden halo. Her legs were spread wide, nightdress hitched around her waist as her glitter pink nails circled her sweet clit. She'd look at me through hooded eyes, breathing hard and fast.

And then she'd say the words; words I should never hear but fuck, they'd sound so fucking sweet.Fuck me, Daddy, please. Please, Daddy, give it to me.Jesus Christ. My cock leapt in my hand, jerking and twitching and pulsing into oblivion. White hot release shot through my balls until I was a wreck, a grunting hulk of sin, coming like a fucking animal.Dirty girl, so fucking dirty.

I caught my breath, my brow pressed to the tile. The forbidden fruit always tastes so fucking juicy. Hell don't I know it. I've been filthy my whole life.

I slung a towel around my shoulders, stopping at the sink to brush my teeth. I wiped a streak in the steam on the mirror, ready to meet the eyes of the dirty fucker who'd shot his load over stepdaughter pussy, but instead I saw beyond. Beyond to the crack of light in the doorway and the flash of blonde hair stumbling from my bedroom.

What the fuck?