Daddy's Dirty Obsession - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
You are reading Daddy's Dirty Obsession, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of Daddy's Dirty Obsession.
The walk home with Daniel after my shift felt endless.
We had exactly fifty-seven minutes before Mom's car would pull into the driveway - I'd counted.
Normally I'd say goodbye at the porch, but tonight some reckless impulse made me push the door open.
Nathan's darkening expression the second we stepped inside made my stomach drop like a stone.
Daniel wasn't the one who made my pulse race.
He never had.
The boy trailing behind me fidgeted like a nervous Chihuahua, still muttering about "making a good impression" from our awkward walk.
"Good evening, Na—"
I caught myself mid-word, hastily correcting.
Daniel parroted me, his voice cracking.
Nathan just raised one eyebrow in that terrifying way of his, the silence stretching until I could hear my own heartbeat.
When he finally spoke—"How was your first day?"—the relief hit me like a wave.
"Same old greasy spoon chaos," I shrugged, trying for casual. "Kinda fun, I guess."
Nathan's knuckles whitened around his coffee mug before he turned back to the kitchen, dish towel slung over his shoulder like some domestic god.
God, I loved his work-from-home days.
Daniel's tap on my shoulder startled me—I'd been staring like some lovesick groupie.
"He really hates me, huh?" Daniel whispered, tracking Nathan's movements like a rabbit watching a hawk.
My chest twinged with something almost like pity.
Everyone craved Nathan's approval.
It meant everything.
"He's like that with everyone," I lied, patting Daniel's arm.
But secretly?
I reveled in it.
Nathan didn't just tolerate me—he whispered secrets in my ear that even Mom would never hear, touched me in ways that left bruises I cherished.
"Can we go to your room?" Daniel blurted, shifting like his shoes were full of ants.
"Why?"
"Because I feel about as welcome as a fart in an elevator here." His Adam's apple bobbed. "I just want alone time with you, Evelyn."
I barely suppressed an eye-roll.
Eighteen whole minutes together and he needed more?
Those pathetic puppy-dog eyes wore me down.
"Fine," I muttered, standing just as Nathan materialized in the hallway.
"You're going upstairs?"
That low, dangerous tone sent ice through my veins.
"For a little while," I managed, biting back promises I shouldn't have to make.
Nathan's "Have fun" sounded like a death sentence as he walked away.
Upstairs, Daniel collapsed onto my bed like he'd been waterboarded with tension.
"Your stepdad's fucking terrifying," he breathed.
Pathetic.
"He'll come around," I lied again, perching as far from him as possible.
Two months of this charade and he'd only been in my room twice.
"Movie? Games? Monopoly?" he offered like some overeager camp counselor.
Disgust coiled in my gut.
Before I could kick him out, his clammy hands grabbed my face for the world's worst kiss—all slobber and zero skill, like a golden retriever trying to eat pudding.
"Amazing, right?" he panted.
I nodded like a hostage.
Round two was even worse, his teeth scraping my neck like he was trying to gnaw through a pork chop.
When he finally pulled back, grinning like he'd discovered fire, I wanted to bleach my skin.
"Look," he whispered, gesturing to his tented shorts. "I'm hard for you."
"Wow," I deadpanned. "Must be nice."
"Yeah... feel it."
He mashed my hand against what felt like a lukewarm hot dog.
"Does this make you wanna call me Daddy yet?"
I gave a half-hearted squeeze.
He whimpered. "I—I think I'm gonna come!"
Jesus Christ.
I yanked free, but he came at me like a horny octopus, hands groping my chest like malfunctioning vending machine claws.
"Stop."
His face fell. "You don't want to?"
"No."
"Oh." He deflated. "I didn't mean to—"
"Leave."
The door barely clicked shut before I screamed, "FUCKING LOSER!" into my pillow.
Downstairs, Nathan sat stone-faced at the dining table, eyes glued to his laptop.
"We didn't do anything," I blurted.
Silence.
"Daddy..."
Nothing.
I couldn't take it.
I slammed his laptop shut and climbed onto the table, fingers already slipping under my panties.
His gaze dropped.
"Daddy..." I moaned, circling my clit with practiced ease.
His grip on the table turned murderous.
I hooked a leg over his lap, pressing my foot against the growing bulge in his shorts.
"Fucking slut," he growled. "You want punishment?"
"Yes, Daddy."
I had his shorts down before he finished speaking, taking him deep without preamble.
He fisted my hair, forcing me to take every inch until tears pricked my eyes.
"Gonna come, baby girl," he groaned. "Swallow it all."
I did.
Then he flipped me onto the table and drove into me with punishing thrusts.
"Sorry for bringing that boy home?" he snarled.
"I'm sorry, Daddy!"
He didn't stop until my vision whited out, leaving me a trembling wreck on the polished wood.
"Clean up," he said, straightening his clothes. "Your mother's almost home."
I lay there boneless, still throbbing.
"Thank you, Daddy," I whispered to his retreating back.
The delicious ache would linger for hours.
We had exactly fifty-seven minutes before Mom's car would pull into the driveway - I'd counted.
Normally I'd say goodbye at the porch, but tonight some reckless impulse made me push the door open.
Nathan's darkening expression the second we stepped inside made my stomach drop like a stone.
Daniel wasn't the one who made my pulse race.
He never had.
The boy trailing behind me fidgeted like a nervous Chihuahua, still muttering about "making a good impression" from our awkward walk.
"Good evening, Na—"
I caught myself mid-word, hastily correcting.
Daniel parroted me, his voice cracking.
Nathan just raised one eyebrow in that terrifying way of his, the silence stretching until I could hear my own heartbeat.
When he finally spoke—"How was your first day?"—the relief hit me like a wave.
"Same old greasy spoon chaos," I shrugged, trying for casual. "Kinda fun, I guess."
Nathan's knuckles whitened around his coffee mug before he turned back to the kitchen, dish towel slung over his shoulder like some domestic god.
God, I loved his work-from-home days.
Daniel's tap on my shoulder startled me—I'd been staring like some lovesick groupie.
"He really hates me, huh?" Daniel whispered, tracking Nathan's movements like a rabbit watching a hawk.
My chest twinged with something almost like pity.
Everyone craved Nathan's approval.
It meant everything.
"He's like that with everyone," I lied, patting Daniel's arm.
But secretly?
I reveled in it.
Nathan didn't just tolerate me—he whispered secrets in my ear that even Mom would never hear, touched me in ways that left bruises I cherished.
"Can we go to your room?" Daniel blurted, shifting like his shoes were full of ants.
"Why?"
"Because I feel about as welcome as a fart in an elevator here." His Adam's apple bobbed. "I just want alone time with you, Evelyn."
I barely suppressed an eye-roll.
Eighteen whole minutes together and he needed more?
Those pathetic puppy-dog eyes wore me down.
"Fine," I muttered, standing just as Nathan materialized in the hallway.
"You're going upstairs?"
That low, dangerous tone sent ice through my veins.
"For a little while," I managed, biting back promises I shouldn't have to make.
Nathan's "Have fun" sounded like a death sentence as he walked away.
Upstairs, Daniel collapsed onto my bed like he'd been waterboarded with tension.
"Your stepdad's fucking terrifying," he breathed.
Pathetic.
"He'll come around," I lied again, perching as far from him as possible.
Two months of this charade and he'd only been in my room twice.
"Movie? Games? Monopoly?" he offered like some overeager camp counselor.
Disgust coiled in my gut.
Before I could kick him out, his clammy hands grabbed my face for the world's worst kiss—all slobber and zero skill, like a golden retriever trying to eat pudding.
"Amazing, right?" he panted.
I nodded like a hostage.
Round two was even worse, his teeth scraping my neck like he was trying to gnaw through a pork chop.
When he finally pulled back, grinning like he'd discovered fire, I wanted to bleach my skin.
"Look," he whispered, gesturing to his tented shorts. "I'm hard for you."
"Wow," I deadpanned. "Must be nice."
"Yeah... feel it."
He mashed my hand against what felt like a lukewarm hot dog.
"Does this make you wanna call me Daddy yet?"
I gave a half-hearted squeeze.
He whimpered. "I—I think I'm gonna come!"
Jesus Christ.
I yanked free, but he came at me like a horny octopus, hands groping my chest like malfunctioning vending machine claws.
"Stop."
His face fell. "You don't want to?"
"No."
"Oh." He deflated. "I didn't mean to—"
"Leave."
The door barely clicked shut before I screamed, "FUCKING LOSER!" into my pillow.
Downstairs, Nathan sat stone-faced at the dining table, eyes glued to his laptop.
"We didn't do anything," I blurted.
Silence.
"Daddy..."
Nothing.
I couldn't take it.
I slammed his laptop shut and climbed onto the table, fingers already slipping under my panties.
His gaze dropped.
"Daddy..." I moaned, circling my clit with practiced ease.
His grip on the table turned murderous.
I hooked a leg over his lap, pressing my foot against the growing bulge in his shorts.
"Fucking slut," he growled. "You want punishment?"
"Yes, Daddy."
I had his shorts down before he finished speaking, taking him deep without preamble.
He fisted my hair, forcing me to take every inch until tears pricked my eyes.
"Gonna come, baby girl," he groaned. "Swallow it all."
I did.
Then he flipped me onto the table and drove into me with punishing thrusts.
"Sorry for bringing that boy home?" he snarled.
"I'm sorry, Daddy!"
He didn't stop until my vision whited out, leaving me a trembling wreck on the polished wood.
"Clean up," he said, straightening his clothes. "Your mother's almost home."
I lay there boneless, still throbbing.
"Thank you, Daddy," I whispered to his retreating back.
The delicious ache would linger for hours.
End of Daddy's Dirty Obsession Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to Daddy's Dirty Obsession book page.