two years earlier when he'd started dating my flakey mother. Within four months, they were married. A few weeks after their first anniversary, she wanted a divorce. As soon as the ink was dry, she left town—and me. Rex was nice enough to take me in and provide the stability I so desperately craved.
"Were you smoking pot?" He picked up a package of rolling papers and waved them in my face.
"No!"
"Allie…" He used the voice .
"Okay, so, like not tonight but, you know, sure, I've been known to light up." I touched his arm, the starched fabric of his white button-down shirt stiff beneath my fingers. "But never in your house!"
"Oh, that makes it so much better, Allie." He slipped the papers into his pocket. "No more dope, Allie. If I have to start drug testing you, I will."
My mouth gaped. "You're joking!"
"Try me, sugar."
"No, thanks," I murmured meekly. Head low, I whispered, "I won't smoke again."
"Good." He gestured to the table. "Put your hands on the table and spread your legs."
"Wh-what?" I blinked as his sternly spoken order ricocheted round and round in my head. "Why?"
"Because I said so," he replied rather gruffly. "Hands on the table. Now."
Caught off guard by his cop voice, I instantly complied. He used the toe of his boot to push my feet wider apart. My heart raced as Rex put a hand on the back of my neck. I'd never been manhandled like this. It was simultaneously disconcerting—and exciting. "Why are you searching me?"
"You think I was born yesterday, Allie? You've got rolling papers in your purse but no pot. If it's hidden on you, I'll find it."
"Rex, I don't have any drugs on me."
He snorted with derision. "Sure you don’t, sweetheart."
I gasped when his rough palms glided along my sides. His big hands swept up around my breasts and followed the curve of them. His fingertips brushed across my nipples. For a split-second, his hands faltered and then lingered. I wondered if he'd just realized I wasn't wearing a bra under my hot pink mini-dress. Whenever I got nervous or excited, my nipples always tightened to hard peaks. Right now was no exception. No doubt Rex had felt the hard nubs pushing against his palms.
His hands moved slower now. They slid down my belly, rode the gentle slope of my hips and glided along my thighs. His touch felt different. Instead of being business-like and cursory, he seemed to be trying to memorize the feel of my body. I sensed something in him had shifted. When he'd first put his hands on me, it was completely innocent and with a purpose. He'd truly wanted to make sure I wasn't smuggling something illegal into his home.
But now? No, his touch had changed. Maybe it was the sensation of my nipples pressing against his palm but some switch inside his head had been flipped.
I shivered as his callused palms glided along my inner thighs. He moved at a torturously slow pace. My heart raced as he took a step closer. His body heat and that cologne he preferred, a rugged, masculine scent, enveloped me. I closed my eyes and tried to fight the need building low in my belly.
Was this really happening? Was I seriously letting my step-father feel me up in the entryway of our house? Part of me wanted to shout that this was wrong, that we shouldn’t even be flirting with this kind of danger, but I silenced that moral bitch quickly. I wanted to know. I needed to know what would happen. It was taboo and dirty but I couldn't help myself.
I wanted Rex. I wanted my step-daddy.
When his hands reached the apex of my thighs, I held my breath. His thumbs grazed the tiny scrap of silk guarding my pussy. The flimsy thong I'd chosen would provide little protection against him.
His hot breath breezed across my neck. Goose bumps erupted on my flesh. He was so close now I could hear him gulp. Pained, he whispered, "Allie…"
He didn't have to say anything else. I understood implicitly. He wanted permission. He needed me to say it. "Don't stop, Rex."
With a low growl, he dropped his lips to
"Were you smoking pot?" He picked up a package of rolling papers and waved them in my face.
"No!"
"Allie…" He used the voice .
"Okay, so, like not tonight but, you know, sure, I've been known to light up." I touched his arm, the starched fabric of his white button-down shirt stiff beneath my fingers. "But never in your house!"
"Oh, that makes it so much better, Allie." He slipped the papers into his pocket. "No more dope, Allie. If I have to start drug testing you, I will."
My mouth gaped. "You're joking!"
"Try me, sugar."
"No, thanks," I murmured meekly. Head low, I whispered, "I won't smoke again."
"Good." He gestured to the table. "Put your hands on the table and spread your legs."
"Wh-what?" I blinked as his sternly spoken order ricocheted round and round in my head. "Why?"
"Because I said so," he replied rather gruffly. "Hands on the table. Now."
Caught off guard by his cop voice, I instantly complied. He used the toe of his boot to push my feet wider apart. My heart raced as Rex put a hand on the back of my neck. I'd never been manhandled like this. It was simultaneously disconcerting—and exciting. "Why are you searching me?"
"You think I was born yesterday, Allie? You've got rolling papers in your purse but no pot. If it's hidden on you, I'll find it."
"Rex, I don't have any drugs on me."
He snorted with derision. "Sure you don’t, sweetheart."
I gasped when his rough palms glided along my sides. His big hands swept up around my breasts and followed the curve of them. His fingertips brushed across my nipples. For a split-second, his hands faltered and then lingered. I wondered if he'd just realized I wasn't wearing a bra under my hot pink mini-dress. Whenever I got nervous or excited, my nipples always tightened to hard peaks. Right now was no exception. No doubt Rex had felt the hard nubs pushing against his palms.
His hands moved slower now. They slid down my belly, rode the gentle slope of my hips and glided along my thighs. His touch felt different. Instead of being business-like and cursory, he seemed to be trying to memorize the feel of my body. I sensed something in him had shifted. When he'd first put his hands on me, it was completely innocent and with a purpose. He'd truly wanted to make sure I wasn't smuggling something illegal into his home.
But now? No, his touch had changed. Maybe it was the sensation of my nipples pressing against his palm but some switch inside his head had been flipped.
I shivered as his callused palms glided along my inner thighs. He moved at a torturously slow pace. My heart raced as he took a step closer. His body heat and that cologne he preferred, a rugged, masculine scent, enveloped me. I closed my eyes and tried to fight the need building low in my belly.
Was this really happening? Was I seriously letting my step-father feel me up in the entryway of our house? Part of me wanted to shout that this was wrong, that we shouldn’t even be flirting with this kind of danger, but I silenced that moral bitch quickly. I wanted to know. I needed to know what would happen. It was taboo and dirty but I couldn't help myself.
I wanted Rex. I wanted my step-daddy.
When his hands reached the apex of my thighs, I held my breath. His thumbs grazed the tiny scrap of silk guarding my pussy. The flimsy thong I'd chosen would provide little protection against him.
His hot breath breezed across my neck. Goose bumps erupted on my flesh. He was so close now I could hear him gulp. Pained, he whispered, "Allie…"
He didn't have to say anything else. I understood implicitly. He wanted permission. He needed me to say it. "Don't stop, Rex."
With a low growl, he dropped his lips to
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