Don’t You Dare Pull Out, Book 2
After ignoring each other for nearly a month, Frank and Lexie are thrown together by Tess, Lexie’s mother. They don't waste any time “reuniting,” and Frank makes sure she feels just how much he's missed her.
But how far does Lexie expect Frank to go? When they find themselves alone in Frank’s office, they both just might surprise each other...and themselves!
Don’t You Dare Pull Out, Book 3
After their rendezvous at the hospital, Lexie and Frank take things up a notch back at the house--and they almost get caught when Tess hears something out on the balcony.
Just how far do they want to take things? Will they have the willpower to keep hiding their passion? Or do they actually want things out in the open? One thing's for sure, when things heat up, there's no chance Frank's gonna pull out!
Don’t You Dare Pull Out, Book 4
After nearly getting caught on multiple occasions, Lexie and the man of the house, Frank, end their summer fling when Lexie goes off to college. It was fun while it lasted, Frank reasons, but all good things must come to an end, right?
But when Lexie’s mother, Tess, cancels her visit for parents’ weekend, and Frank is forced to visit Lexie alone, will they really be able to keep their hands off each other? And when Lexie drops some earthshattering news, what will Frank’s reaction be?!
Seducing Her Seal – Vixen Von Fock
“I don’t want to move again.” I sounded like I was eight, but I couldn’t help it I couldn’t believe what he was telling me.
“Sorry Myka, you have no choice.” His deep voice pissed me off. Not just from what he was saying to me, but also because of the way it affected my body.
Something was seriously screwed up with my head. For years, his deep baritone had made my tummy flip with a swarm of butterflies buzzing around, and sent cream leaking from between my thighs. Since my mom had died the unsavory obsession I had for my stepfather had increased tenfold. What I needed was to move away from him, not be dragged off to some foreign country while he trained a team of overgrown boys to be sharp-shooters while lying in the snow.
“But I do have choices, I could stay with the Wards. I start—”
“Enough Myka, we are going, end of discussion. Now go and pack, we leave in thirty-six hours. So get a move on.” His voice was commanding like he was talking to one of his men and not his stepdaughter.
With an attitude I knew would piss him off, I tapped my heels together and saluted him. “Yes Senior Chief, right away Senior Chief. And you are an asshole, Senior Chief.”
“Do not push me little girl, I am not in the mood. Now go and pack.”
His jaw ticked when he was annoyed. With the way it was twitching, there was no denying that he was well and truly pissed. Not wanting to push him too far, I stormed my plush ass down the hallway of our base home to pack up my belongings. Slamming my bedroom door before walking over to the sound system I hit play on my favorite CD, the FSOG soundtrack. As far as I was concerned, the best thing to come from those books was the album. Cranking the volume to high I ignored the Chief’s bellows for me to turn it down.
Slumping down on the bed I let the beat wash over me, waiting for it to calm my frayed nerves. Instead of the music unruffling my feathers over having to move, though, it ignited the naughty thoughts I seemed to constantly have, about my stepdad doing nasty things to me. My over imaginative brain re-wrote the book to include a much more dominant senior chief to replace a rather passive billionaire. Brown hair became dusty blond, trimmed military short, his large hands rough from years of holding weapons. Arms roped in muscles from carrying heavy loads, replaced those of a pencil-pushing businessman.
A shiver coursed down my spine as the image of the chief wielding a soft leather flogger filled my depraved mind. Rolling over, I studied the immaculate ceiling of my perfectly white room. But the image of my dad wouldn’t leave me. Knowing I shouldn’t but unable to stop myself I shimmied the tight denim of my jeans over my hips enough to push my fingers past my panties.
My kitty was already wet; the bastard did this to me constantly with nothing more than being in the same room. Even when frustrated with him for making me move, for making me stay with him, I couldn’t help but want him to be the man to touch and caress me. Wanting it to be his fingers and not my own rubbing at the small bundle of nerves.
Lightly at first, I petted my kitty, wanting to prolong the experience. To draw out the fantasy that was flowing through my mind. One that had the chief storming into my room to find me masturbating, his large rough hands taking over and teaching me exactly how it should be done. As the daydream built, I increased the speed of my fingers, until I was biting at my lips to stop my moans from echoing through the room. I hated him, but god I couldn’t stop myself from dreaming about him, from wishing it was his fingers playing with my clit, and bringing me to orgasm.
My stomach tightened, my toes curled as the orgasm floated through me. It wasn’t earth shattering like I had read about, but I think that kind of bliss is only obtainable when someone else is involved and not something you can really give yourself. Pulling a tissue from the box I wiped the cream from my fingers and with a resigned sigh I went about packing up my room.
*****
I was bored and I was freezing. Alaska sucked in the winter. I had done nothing but read and eat for the last two months. So much for going to school. The school was an online teacher. The only people I had a chance to interact with were the Senior Chief and his men. I’d had my eighteen birthday and wanted to get out of there, but couldn’t because of all the freaking snow. With every day that passed I hated my stepfather, and with each night that rolled by I wanted him to come into my room and do wicked things to me. That need to be touched by him was stronger than the hate I felt for him, and had me disliking not only him but also myself for being a little sick in the head.
Depressed, I had taken to eating, my hips now fit a little too snuggly into my pants, and my breasts which had already been ample, were spilling over the top of most of my bras. Living in the middle of nowhere meant shopping for new ones wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. When I was finally free from my prison, I never wanted to see snow again.
Flinging back the blanket I climbed off the lounge and looked out the window. The storm that had started brewing was picking up in speed. The cabin creaked and groaned with the force of the wind. I couldn’t help but worry that my dad was somewhere out there. As a Navy Seal he was trained for this weather; he was training others to handle it. But a surge of panic filled me, chilling me to the bone.
Moving away from the window I headed over to the fire, needing to warm myself up and shake away my worry I added more wood to the already burning embers. Within thirty minutes the room was toasty warm, to the point where I needed to take off my sweat pants and jumper. Underneath I wore a pair of boy-short panties and a sports bra. I wasn't worried about my attire; the chief wasn't due home for a couple more hours. And we had no neighbors that would pop in unexpectedly, hell we had no neighbors, period.
Lying back down on the lounge I searched my e-reader for something good to read. I was grateful for the gift card one of the chief’s men had given me for my birthday. It meant I was able to download a heap of books, the type that I didn't want showing up on my dad's bank statement. Books that that made me hot, and filled that part of me—the part that craved to have my dad touch me—with a perverse pleasure. I couldn't believe how many stories were available that were based around my own fantasies.
Finding one that I hadn't read, I opened it. Getting myself comfortable, I settled in to see if I could live out my own desires through words. My mind always replaced the hero with the images of my own dad.
I had given up on not wanting him to do naughty things to me, on fighting my own imagination and desire. It had been a useless feat when, apart from the men in his squad, he was the only male around. And the only one that could make my panties dripping wet. I was stuc
k in a small house with him until the storm and weather allowed me to get out of Alaska, so I didn’t see the harm in letting my imagination run a little wild.
I let my depravity fill me as I lost myself to the words, my mind once again replacing the characters on the page with the chief and me. The clearing of a throat brought me out of the book haze lust I was in. Looking up, I was dazzled by the sight before me. My brain forgetting for a moment that this wasn't a story, but real life. That the man standing there in white and grey camouflage was not a character, but my stepfather.
"What are you doing Myka?" He asked as his eyes scanned my body. It was then that I remembered that I was only wearing my bra and panties. I didn’t know what came over me, but like a kitten stretching from sleep, I arched my back revealing more of my almost naked body. My rounded breast jiggling with the movement. The Chief’s jaw started the ticking action I always associated with anger, but for a moment I thought I saw desire fill his eyes.
“I was reading, Senior Chief.” It must be cabin fever; because a sultry sound that had filled my voice to combine with my sassy attitude, was something I had never done before.
“Why are you naked?” His already deep voice sounded gravelly and strained.
“It’s hot in here. You really should get out of those fatigues before you overheat.”
The ticking in his jaw doubled in time. Again I couldn't help myself, in a feline type move I pushed my hands over my head while stretching my legs out. In the back of my mind I wondered if I’d start purring from simply looking at him.
The chief closed his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. God, he could turn me on. I was positive that if he looked between my legs he would see the wet patch forming, dampening my panties.
“Myka, I think you should go and get dressed.” The words sounded hesitant to me. Like he was unsure if that was something he really wanted me to do. Tilting my head to the side I studied him. His jaw was still ticking, his hands were balled into fists beside his hips and the front of his pants were pulled taut over a rather impressive bulge.
My mouth filled with saliva as I watched that bulge thump against the material. Fuck he was massive. The muscles in my core did a little happy dance, and my virginal brain pondered how something which looked that big behind loose cargo fatigues, could possibly fit into something so small.
Flicking my eyes back to his face, I found his own whiskey brown ones trained on my baby blues. I blushed at being caught looking at my father’s cock. But something inside of me was behaving like a cheerleader, she was doing star jumps and chanting yippee give it to me.
The cabin fever was obviously still affecting my brain. In a move I didn’t know I was capable of, I made my size sixteen butt look sexy as I got up from my prone position on the lounge and sauntered over to where the chief stood rigidly. Standing on tiptoes I whispered against his skin, “Welcome home, Daddy.” Then I pressed my lips against his. I didn’t know what had made me do it. I have no idea why I had called him daddy. He had always been chief or dad to me. But the look on his face as I’d said daddy had something in the back of my mind flattering awake, and my pussy clamping around empty air.
His breath smelt of mint and cigars, telling me he’d had a great training session. He always celebrated with a cigar if he was impressed with what his men had accomplished that day. But mostly I registered how soft his lips were against my own. He didn't move them, didn't kiss me back. Feeling silly I went to step away from him. Having not stood on point since I was ten, one of my ankles rolled under my own weight. My balance teetered and I fell against his solid chest, my beaded nipples stabbing into the thick camouflage jacket he wore, and my lips were somehow still in contact with his. My fathers’ hands automatically went to my hips in a bid to steady me.
The cold tips of his fingers felt like branding irons against my flesh. The hard cock that I’d watched twitching seconds before, now stabbed into my stomach. I couldn't hold back my whimper. He was huge and he was hard. I wanted him to show me how to take a man.
With a growl, the chief’s short nails dug into the soft flesh at my hips. Lips that had been idle against mine now moved, turning the peck into a proper kiss.
Opening my mouth I allowed his tongue entry. It was better than anything I could have imagined. My knees shook as he took control, teaching me without words what he wanted me to do. I couldn't believe it. I must’ve been dreaming, because there was no way that he was kissing me, his chubby stepdaughter. The girl who had never been on a date before. If this was a dream I didn't want to wake up, I didn’t want it to end.
His hands slipped from my hips to the cheeks of my ass, the tips of his fingers settling deep into the crease that parted the large globes. He pulled me closer to him, his stiff cock felt like it was trying to drill through my belly button. When he pulled his lips from mine I was dizzy with desire.
"Myka we can't be doing this.”
His words would have bothered me if his hands weren’t still gripping with enough strength to leave bruises. But he was right, we shouldn’t be doing this. He had been my dad since I was eight, he had been the one to come to school recitals, he was the one that scanned each and every one of my friends to make sure I wasn’t hanging out with the wrong crowd. He was the one to tell me I was beautiful and not fat when my junior prom date stood me up. We shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t want him to be the one to take me to heights I’d only ever dreamed about. But knowing that we shouldn’t and telling my body to stop wanting it, were two very different things. Letting my body take charge, I asked. “Why?”
“Myka, you’re my daughter.” His protest was lost as he buried his face into the curve of my neck.
Natural instinct kicked in and I tilted my head back, allowing him access to the soft skin behind my ear. My pussy trembled with the gentle sweep of his tongue. Who the hell would have believed, all those books, about that area being one to have me almost climaxing from only the touch of his lips? Digging my fingers into his scalp I held him close to me, my breathing became difficult from the little attention that he was showing me.
“Not by blood, you’re not really my dad.” I managed to object through my moans.
His head easily moved away from my neck despite my effort to hold him in place. No my inner cheerleader cried. She wanted him sucking on my neck again.
His pools of whiskey drowned me with the reflection of my own need. He seemed to be thinking of something. Biting my lip I stopped myself from begging him not to end what we had started, not to leave me wanting. His eyes darted to my mouth, his head made a minute action similar to a nod and in a show of strength he lifted me into his arms, clashing our mouths back together.
Wrapping my arms around his wide shoulders and my legs around his hips, I held onto him as tightly as I could. His muscle-bound frame made me feel small, something that I knew I wasn’t. His tongue glided over mine. Feeling bolder I tried one of the moves I had read about. On the next pass of his tongue I clamped my lips around the wet muscle and sucked. Daddy groaned, a tremble vibrating through him and into me. I hadn’t even realized we had moved until my back made contact with the rough surface, of the cabins exposed wood wall. With my legs around his waist his cock was perfectly aligned with my kitty. His hips rocked against mine, mimicking what I wanted him to do without the barrier of material between us.
The need for air made me pull from his mouth. His weather-aged face, inches from mine, showed anger once again. The sight scared me as much as it turned me on. He was a trained Navy Seal, he had the skills to bring men to their knees and have others following him into war. But at that moment, even with his hips still rubbing a delicious pattern against mine, the look on his face had me wondering if this was the right decision.
“Da…Chief—”
“Don’t, Myka. Do you know what you’ve started?”
I could only nod my head at him; I didn’t know what he wanted me to say because I didn’t exactly know what I had started. Something had t
aken over my body when I’d seen him standing there. I was blaming the cheerleader that was still doing cartwheels and telling him to hurry up and get this show on the road. My mind was a little more hesitant as I studied his irate face.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” The way he said it, made it sound like he was trying to talk himself out of being with me. My stomach dropped at the thought of him leaving me unfulfilled.
“Chief—”
“Not Chief.”
I was getting a little confused. His face was a mask of anger, his eyes pools of whiskey lust. His cock continued a hypnotic dance against my core. Thinking was becoming difficult. He must have noticed my confusion because he answered my unspoken question. “Don’t call me Chief.”
“Then what do you want me to call you. Eric?” It was the first time I had ever called him by his name.
“No, Daddy.” With that his lips recaptured mine. A naughty thrill coursed through me with the knowledge that he wanted me to call him daddy. Moving us away from the wall, I expected him to carry me down the short hallway that led to the bedrooms. Instead he turned us around and made his way over to the thick rug that filled the space in front of the fireplace.
With each one of his steps I could feel the muscles of his arms flex. Confident in the fact that he wouldn’t drop me I pushed my hands between us, searching for the opening of his jacket. Wanting the cumbersome fabric out of the way.
I squealed as our angle changed. One of daddy’s strong hands moved to the middle of my back, supporting me as he slowly laid me down on the soft rug. The thick fur-like material tickled at my bare back causing me to giggle. A smile crossed daddy’s face and with an agility belying his size and age he sprang back to his feet.
With deft movements he removed his thick jacket. His hands were quick and efficient. He wasn't drawing out his reveal, and I didn’t mind. I had waited years to see him with nothing on. With military efficiency he removed layer upon layer until only his pants and boots remained. His eyes scanned up and down my body taking in every inch of me. If it had been anyone else seeing me in my semi naked state, I might have been self-conscious of my size, but not with daddy.
Anything for the Man of the House: Ten Brats who Learn how to Behave Page 8