“Not really,” he said, laughing. “Let’s put it on.”
We spent the next half hour picking through records, listening to a song or two, and then putting a new record on. I quickly forgot that I disliked this guy Carter, and that he was my stepfather, and instead just enjoyed myself. He was funny and charming, and he seemed to know a lot about the records we were listening to.
Finally, we ended up on a small couch against one wall near the fireplace listening to Lorde’s most recent album.
“You know,” I said, “it’s a little ironic that you have this album. This song is all about how normal people will never be rich and famous like the royals.”
“What’s so ironic about that?”
“You’re rich and famous,” I pointed out.
“I wasn’t always.” He shrugged. “I don’t discriminate.”
“Neither do I, which is why I’m hanging out with mister rich and spoiled.”
He laughed. “Okay, fine, fair enough.”
“This house is incredible, you know.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He leaned toward me and I felt my heart starting to beat faster.
“It’s more like a resort than a house,” I said quickly, looking away from him. I couldn’t get any ideas, even though I was already imagining what it would be like to kiss his attractive mouth, to let his hands roam my body.
“We have a lot of guests. This place is rarely empty.”
“Don’t like to be alone?”
“No,” he said, coming closer. “I like to be alone. Except when the company is worth being around.”
I looked into his intense gaze for a second and shook my head. “Carter,” I said.
“What?”
“I thought we had a truce.”
He grinned huge. “I guess I broke it already.”
I could see what he wanted clearly in his eyes. He was looking at my body like a starving man, hungry for my skin. Truthfully, I didn’t mind it one bit, and wanted him to come closer. I wanted to feel his lips against me, his hands on my hips, on my ass. I wanted him to take me the way I knew that he could.
Except he was my stepfather, and that was so messed up.
As he came nearer, his phone suddenly started ringing. Frowning at it for a second, he stood up quickly and walked away, answering.
I couldn’t hear what he said, but his expression quickly got serious. He said something and nodded a few times before hanging up. He turned to me, an apologetic smile on his face. “I have to go,” he said.
“Okay.” I stood up. “Thanks for showing me this.”
“You can stay here as long as you want,” he said. “Bar is all ours, records are all yours.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll see you later, Emily.”
I nodded, biting my lip. He turned and quickly left, and I released a pent-up breath.
I needed to be smarter than this. I couldn’t let myself be alone in a room late at night with a man like Carter. I could barely control myself and I knew that if he had made a move to kiss me, I would have let him. I wouldn’t have had had the strength to stop him. I wanted him more than I cared to admit to myself, and that was a problem.
I couldn’t believe that I wanted to feel my stepfather’s cock deep inside of me.
6
Carter
The last thing I wanted to do was walk away from Emily, but apparently the world wasn’t going to conspire with me. Maybe I should have taken my bad luck as a sign that I shouldn’t be trying to fuck my stepdaughter, even though we’re not related and she’s still age appropriate, but no, that wasn’t me. Signs or no signs, I was going to try and take what I wanted and forget about everything else.
As I headed toward my head of security’s office, I kept thinking about the way Emily was looking at me. She was practically begging for me, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. I pictured my cock pressing between those pretty lips, sliding down her throat, making her gag. I bet she could suck cock like it was breathing, and I wanted to see her pretty body down on her knees in front of me, doing whatever I told her to do.
I had to stop in front of a window for a second, opening it up to breathe in the cool night air. My cock was fucking rock hard and I couldn’t go into a meeting with my head of security with a fucking hard-on. I needed to get a fucking grip.
It wasn’t like me getting all fucking crazy about some girl. I’d been with plenty of women with nice bodies, some of them models, some of them just wet and begging for it. I didn’t get my playboy reputation for no reason. But I’d never before gotten hung up on a girl like apparently I was getting hung up on Emily. I just couldn’t get her out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. She could easily be the fucking downfall of everything that I was trying to achieve, and yet I just kept picturing her down on all fours, ass in the air, dripping wet pussy begging to get fucked.