Chapter 116 Stepfather, Please Ruin My Pussy (3)

Chapter 116 Stepfather, Please Ruin My Pussy (3)
~MIA~

I looked at Chase through half-lidded eyes, watching the way he held the camera up to his face, the way the lens angled toward me.

Though the camera hid his expression, I could make out the line of his jaw, the way his throat moved as he swallowed.

A slow thrill ran through me as I opened my legs wider, letting him see exactly what he was about to capture.

The G-string was thin, barely a whisper of fabric, and I knew with the way I was positioned, with the way the light fell, that the soft folds of my pussy were almost visible, just barely contained by the scrap of pink lace.

I watched his throat move, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, but he said nothing.

The camera clicked.

One shot.

Then another.

I shifted, turning in the chair, letting my back arch as I positioned my ass toward him.

The net socks pulled tight over my thighs, the suspender belt cutting a dark line across my hips, and I looked over my shoulder at the black circle of the lens.

The camera clicked again.

I threw pose after pose at him, each one more obscene than the last.

My fingers trailed down my stomach, my lips parting, as my gaze grew heavy and dark.

Spreading my legs again, I eased them wider, then closed them, only to part them slower the next time.

My fingers brushed the strap of my bra, sliding it down my shoulder before I caught it, stopping it from revealing anything.

I leaned forward, pressing my breasts together, the bra doing nothing to conceal my hardened nipples.

Any other man would have been on his knees, begging to fuck me.

But Chase didn’t.

He just kept taking pictures.

The camera clicked, steady and mechanical, and his face remained hidden behind the lens.

He didn’t say a single word to me. Not one.

He didn’t even glance at me over the top of the camera. He didn’t give me a single shred of attention.

Nothing but the quiet professionalism of someone doing a chore they wanted to finish.

And that made me so fucking angry.

As the minutes stretched, my poses grew bolder, more desperate, yet he still didn’t give me a glance.

The ache between my legs had grown into a throbbing pulse, and my patience was fraying, burning away in the heat of my frustration.

My impatience grew, my skin prickling with need and anger.

Turning to Chase fully, I spread my legs wider than before, letting my knees fall apart, and then reached down with one hand.

My fingers hooked into the edge of the G-string, and I shifted it to the side, pulling the thin strip of fabric away from my body.

The cool air hit my wet pussy, and I saw him go still behind the camera.

The lens dipped slightly, just a fraction, and I knew I had him.

Bingo.

I let my fingers trail down, parting my pussy folds, spreading myself open for him to see.

My pussy was wet, slick and glistening in the morning light, and I made sure he could see every detail.

The camera clicked once before he lowered it down.

I don’t miss the look on his face. It was flushed, red creeping from his neck to his cheeks, and his eyes locked on the space between my legs for one breathless second before he jerked his gaze away.

“I think that’s enough,” he said. “I’ve taken more than enough pictures.”

I pulled the G-string back into place, slow and deliberate, and closed my legs.

My eyes drifted down—and then I saw it.

The large bulge straining against the front of his pants, pressing against the fabric as if his cock was trying to escape.

A slow, wide smile spread across my face.

He could deny it.

He could stiffen, tighten his jaw, and use that stern voice and pretend I hadn’t gotten to him.

But his cock couldn’t lie.

He moved closer, closing the distance he had kept between us.

He held out the camera, his hand steady even as the flush on his face deepened. “Here. Have your camera back.”

I stretched my hand out, my fingers reaching for the camera, but instead of taking it, I let my fingertips drag along his hand.

His hand trembled beneath my touch, a fine, almost invisible shake that I felt all the way down to my bones.

He stared at me.

I looked up at him through my lashes, letting the smile linger on my lips.

“With the look on your face,” I murmured, “it’s obvious you want me.”

“What the hell?” He gave me a strange look. “No. I don’t.”

I stood from the chair and stepped into his space—close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to see the rapid pulse throbbing in his throat, close enough to breathe the same air.

He opened his mouth to speak. “Mi—”

I placed my hand on his cock, cupping him through his pants, feeling the hard length and the way he twitched beneath my palm as his words died in his throat.

His eyes doubled in size, his pupils blowing wide and dark, and his breath came out in a sharp, sudden rush.

“You are hard,” I said. “Which means you are clearly lying.”

“No.” His voice cracked. “It’s a mistake.”

“A mistake?” I tightened my fingers around his cock, just slightly, and a groan reverberated from his throat, a sound that made my pussy clench.

“Yes,” he managed to say.

He swallowed hard, his throat working, and his hands rose as if to push me away, stopping just an inch from my skin. “You should stop. This… this isn’t right.”

“What is not right?” I pressed closer, my chest almost touching his, my hand still wrapped around his cock. “You being hard because of your stepdaughter?”

He opened his mouth, lips parting, some protest forming, some denial clawing its way up his throat.

But I didn’t let him get the words out.

I crashed my lips to his.

The kiss was hard, desperate, months of wanting pouring into the press of my mouth against his.

His lips were soft, warm, and for one electric moment he was frozen beneath me, his whole body locked up tight.

I pulled back, just enough to see his face.

He stared at me in shock, lips parted, eyes wide, the flush on his cheeks spreading down his neck.

I leaned in, my mouth brushing against his ear, and I let my voice drop to a whisper.

“Please… fuck me, Daddy.”