1. The Itch

⚠️ Content Warning:

This book is purely fictional and strictly rated 18+ and contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and taboo themes including but not limited to:

• Age gap relationships (18+ with older men)

• Stepfather/Stepbrother fantasies

• Father’s Best Friend tropes

• Religious/taboo priest fantasies

• Power imbalance, dominance/submission

• Degradation kinks, rough play

• Multiple partners

• Non-traditional, morally grey dynamics

If these themes are uncomfortable, triggering, or morally conflicting for you, do not read.

This book is not for readers seeking morality, life lessons, or soft romance. It is for consenting adults who enjoy dark, forbidden fantasies in fiction, understanding that fantasy does not equal endorsement.

🔥 Enter at your own risk, and only if you can handle the fire. 🔥

Book 1: Craving My Hot Step-daddy & His Friend

"Daddy, it feels better now."

Princess’s breathy whisper curled into the air, sweet and oblivious, as her stepdaddy’s thick finger traced slow, angonizing circles over her swollen clit through the damp silk of her pink underwear.

The delicate fabric clung to her, soaked through with her arousal, the outline of her pussy lips visible beneath the ruined material.

Matt’s jaw locked, his entire body strung tight with the effort of restraint. His gaze was fixed on that sinful wet patch, his cock throbbing painfully against the confines of his sweatpants.

Every fiber of him screamed to tear the flimsy barrier away, to sink his fingers—his dick—into her virgin cunt.

But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

She is eighteen, his wife’s daughter and his stepdaughter.

Yet here she was, sprawled across the living room couch like a fucking offering—legs spread wide, her long blonde hair spilling over the cushions, her innocent doe eyes glazed with pleasure she didn’t even understand.

"Are you sure, princess?" His voice was rough, strained, his knuckles whitening where he gripped the couch to keep himself from devouring her whole.

She nodded, her pink lips parting on a soft moan.

"Mmm, yes, Daddy. The itching’s gone… you’re making it feel so good."

Christ.

Her words, so guileless, so wrong, sent a violent pulse of lust straight to his cock.

His control snapped.

Without thinking, he pressed harder, his fingertip finding the plush little bud beneath the silk and rubbing in tight, relentless strokes.

Princess gasped, her hips jerking up, her thighs trembling.

"D-Daddy—!"

Matt watched, mesmerized, as her back arched, her nipples pebbling against the thin fabric of her tank top. She was so fucking responsive, so pure, and the knowledge that she had no idea what she was doing to him only made it worse.

"You like that, babygirl?" he growled, his own breath ragged.

"Daddy’s just helping you, right? Making the itch go away?"

"Y-yes!" Her fingers twisted into the cushions, her innocence unraveling beneath his touch.

"It—it feels so weird… but good, Daddy, so good—"

A groan tore from his throat. She had no clue. No fucking clue that the itching she’d begged him to fix was her own desperate, teenage arousal—that every time she saw him, her body ached for him.

And now, with her pussy dripping through her panties and her clit throbbing under his fingers, she was his.

His cock twitched, pre-cum soaking the front of his sweats.

He was so close. Too close.

"Princess,"he rasped, his voice dark with hunger.

"Does it feel better when Daddy touches you here?"

He dragged his finger lower, teasing the soaked seam of her panties before brushing the swollen entrance of her pussy.

She whimpered, her thighs falling wider. "Daddy, please—"

That was all it took.

With a ragged curse, Matt came hard, his release spilling hot and thick into his pants. His hips jerked, his vision blurring as pleasure wracked him, more intense than anything he’d felt in years.

And Princess, sweet, clueless Princess, just blinked up at him, her lips parted in confusion.

"Daddy? Are you okay?"

---

The Forbidden Backstory

Three months ago, Matt, a forty-five-year-old widower, had married Elena—a woman seven years younger than him, with a past marred by abandonment.

Her ex-husband had left her, and Matt had spent two years convincing her he wouldn’t do the same.

When she finally said yes, he’d been elated.

But then there was Princess.

Elena’s daughter.

Eighteen years old, with a body that had blossomed in ways Matt couldn’t ignore.

At first, he’d treated her like his own—homeschooling her, buying her gifts, playing the doting stepfather.

But lately, his thoughts had turned filthy.

He couldn’t ignore the way her tits strained against her tank tops, the way her ass swayed in those tiny skirts, and the way she’d bite her lip, innocently, whenever he caught her staring at him.

And today—fuck—today had been the tipping point.

She’d approached him the moment he returned from work, still resting on the couch, her big eyes wide with faux-concern.

"Welcome back, Daddy." She giggled and bounced into the couch. Princess settled beside him, her small hands fidgeting in her lap.

The couch dipped under her weight, her bare legs brushing against his thigh then without warning she yanked them apart, spreading herself shamelessly before him.

**Jesus Christ. **

Matt’s breath stalled in his chest.

"Daddy," she began, her voice a soft, uncertain whisper.

"It itches me down there every day whenever I see you, and I figured you would have a solution for it."

She bit her bottom lip, her doe eyes blinking up at him with a plea so genuine it made his gut twist.

"Can you please make it go away? It hurts."

The words had sent a bolt of lust straight to his groin.

‘It itches me whenever I see you.’ The words echoed in his head continually.

His jaw clenched.

Was she really this naïve? Did she even understand what she was saying—what she was doing to him?

His dark, hungry gaze flickered down for a fraction of a second, just long enough to see the dampness clinging to her panties and the way her thighs trembled ever so slightly.

Fuck.

He forced his eyes back up, his throat dry.

"Hmm… uhm…" He cleared his throat, rough with restraint.

"I can’t help you with that, Princess. Sit right, and the itching will stop on its own."

She whined, her fingers curling around his bicep, tugging.

"No, it’s gonna come back. I tried but I won’t go away." Her lower lip jutted out in a pout.

“Please help me out. You’re smart. You always have a solution for everything."

His pulse roared in his ears.

Every muscle in his body locked tight, torn between walking away and ruining her.

And then—

Like the weak, sex-depraved bastard he was, he finally gave in.

"Okay, princess," he’d murmured, his heart pounding wildly.

"I’ll help you." His hand slid over her knee, his thumb pressing into the soft skin there.

"But you can’t tell mommy, okay?”

Princess blinked. "Why?"

Matt turned fully toward her, his grip tightening on her shoulders. The air between them thickened, charged with something dangerous.

"Because mom is a very jealous woman," he murmured, his voice dropping to a dark, husky timbre.

"And what I’m about to do to you… is what I do to her."

For a moment, Princess just stared, her innocent mind struggling to piece together his meaning. But the ache between her legs was too persistent, too maddening, and she didn’t care about anything else.

"Promise?" Matt’s lips curled into a slow, sinful smile as he raised his pinky.

She giggled, the sound light and airy, completely unaware of the storm she’d unleashed.

Her small finger hooked around his. "Promise, Daddy!”

And just like that—

He was lost.

Now, with his cum cooling in his pants and her pretty pussy still glistening beneath his gaze, Matt knew there was no going back.

He is fucked.