Forbidden After Dark: Collection Of Dangerous Desire

AVERY POV

I shouldn't be doing this.

The thought looped in my head like a guilty prayer, but my fingers didn't stop. The house was quiet, the kind of heavy silence that only settled after midnight when Mom had already gone to bed and the only light came from the faint glow of my phone screen.

I was sprawled across my bed, legs parted, one hand sliding slowly between my thighs while the other pressed my pillow against my mouth to muffle the soft sounds I couldn't quite hold back.

It had started innocently enough-an innocent search that led me down a rabbit hole of forbidden fantasies. Stepdad porn. Taboo. Wrong. The kind of thing I told myself I'd never actually want in real life. But tonight, the ache between my legs had grown too insistent to ignore. And the worst part? The face I kept picturing wasn't some anonymous actor.

It was him.

Marcus.

My stepfather.

I bit down harder on the pillow as my fingers circled my clit, slick and swollen. God, I was soaked. The shame only made it hotter. I imagined his deep voice, the way his eyes sometimes lingered on me a second too long when Mom wasn't looking. The way his broad shoulders filled out his shirts. The quiet authority he carried without even trying.

A soft moan escaped me before I could stop it. I arched my back, pushing two fingers inside myself, curling them just right. My hips rocked against my hand in shallow, desperate thrusts.

The fantasy sharpened: Marcus walking into my room, catching me like this, his dark eyes darkening further as he watched me fuck myself thinking about him.

I was so close. My breathing came in quick, ragged gasps. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in my belly.

The door creaked open.

I froze.

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack them. My fingers were still buried inside me, my panties shoved down around one ankle, my tank top pushed up over my breasts. The cool air of the hallway hit my exposed skin like ice.

Marcus stood in the doorway.

He was wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, his chest bare and sculpted from years of early morning workouts. His hair was slightly tousled, like he'd just woken up. One hand still rested on the doorknob. For a long, terrifying second, neither of us moved.

His gaze dropped.

Slowly.

From my flushed face, down to my heaving chest, then lower. To where my hand was still trapped between my thighs, fingers glistening. I could feel my pussy clenching around them involuntarily, as if my body hadn't gotten the memo that we'd just been caught.

"Oh my God," I whispered, the words barely audible. I yanked my hand away, but it was too late. The evidence was everywhere-wetness shining on my inner thighs, my nipples hard and obvious under the thin fabric I hadn't even bothered to pull down.

Marcus didn't speak at first. His jaw tightened. I watched his throat work as he swallowed. His eyes flicked back up to mine, and there was something in them I'd never seen before. Not just surprise.

Heat.

"I... I thought I heard a noise," he said finally, his voice low and rough, like gravel dragged over velvet. "Are you okay, Avery?"

The question was absurd. I was lying there half-naked, caught masturbating, and he was asking if I was okay?

I couldn't answer. My face burned so hot I was sure it was glowing. I scrambled to pull my tank top down, but my hands were shaking. The movement only drew his attention back to my breasts, to the way my nipples strained against the fabric.

"I'm sorry," I choked out. "I didn't- I thought everyone was asleep."

He should have left. Closed the door. Pretended this never happened. That's what a good stepfather would do.

Instead, Marcus stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him.

The click of the latch sounded deafening in the small room.

He leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest, and just... looked at me. Not with disgust. Not with anger. With something darker. Hungrier.

"You don't have to stop on my account," he murmured.

My breath caught.

"What?" The word came out as a squeak.

His eyes never left mine. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself. Before I interrupted."

I couldn't breathe. My pulse thundered in my ears. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. But the way he was watching me-patient, intense, like he was waiting to see what I'd do next-made fresh heat flood between my legs.

I should tell him to get out.

I should scream for Mom.

Instead, I stayed frozen, thighs still slightly parted, my body betraying me with every shallow breath.

Marcus tilted his head. "Were you thinking about someone, sweetheart?"

The endearment hit me like a spark to dry tinder. Sweetheart. He'd called me that before, casually, like it meant nothing. Tonight it meant everything.

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

But my silence seemed to be enough.

He took one step closer. Then another. Until he was standing at the foot of my bed, looking down at me like I was something he wanted to devour.

"Show me," he said softly. It wasn't a command. Not quite. But it was close.

My fingers trembled as they hovered over my thigh. I was terrified. Embarrassed. And so turned on I could barely think straight.

Marcus waited.

And in that heavy, charged silence, I realized I wasn't going to tell him to leave.

AVERY POV

The silence in the kitchen pressed against my skin like a living thing.

I stood there barefoot on the cold tile, heart slamming against my ribs, staring up at Marcus. He hadn't turned on any lights. Only the weak glow from the microwave clock painted faint blue edges across his bare chest and the sharp line of his jaw. Those gray sweatpants rode low enough that I could see the deep V of his hips, and the heavy bulge that had grown since he'd caught me in my room.

My panties were already damp again. I could feel the slickness every time I shifted my weight.

Marcus didn't move closer. He just leaned back against the island counter, arms braced on either side of him, watching me with that same intense, unreadable stare he'd had upstairs. Like he was still deciding whether I was really going to go through with this.

I swallowed hard. My mouth felt too dry and too wet at the same time.

"I shouldn't be here," I whispered, even as I took another small step toward him. "If Mom wakes up..."

"She won't," he said, voice low and rough. "She took one of her sleeping pills. You know how she is."

That should have made me feel better. It didn't. It only made the wrongness of this sharper, hotter. My stepfather. My mother's husband. And I was standing in front of him in nothing but a thin tank top and panties, nipples tight against the fabric, thighs pressed together to ease the throbbing ache between them.

Marcus tilted his head slightly. "You followed me down here, Avery. Tell me why."

My cheeks burned. I looked down at the floor, then forced my gaze back up to his. "Because... I couldn't stop thinking about the way you looked at me. When you saw me touching myself."

His jaw flexed. I saw his fingers tighten on the edge of the counter.

"You were so wet," he murmured, almost to himself. "Fingers buried deep, hips moving like you were imagining someone fucking you."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. My blood. Shame and lust twisted together inside me until I couldn't tell them apart.

"I was imagining you," I admitted, the words barely louder than a breath.

Something shifted in his expression. The careful control cracked just a little. He straightened, closing the last bit of distance between us until I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. One of his hands came up, fingers threading gently through my hair at the nape of my neck.

"Then show me what you wanted to do to me in that fantasy," he said softly.

My knees nearly buckled.

I sank down slowly, the tile cold against my skin as I knelt in front of him. My hands shook as I reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. He didn't stop me. He just watched, breathing steady but deeper now, as I tugged the fabric down.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, already hard and curving slightly upward. The head was flushed dark, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. He was bigger than I'd imagined in my guilty fantasies-long, veined, intimidating. My mouth watered.

I wrapped my fingers around the base, marveling at how hot he felt, how thick. Marcus let out a low hiss through his teeth.

"Avery..." There was a warning in his voice, but also hunger.

I leaned forward and dragged my tongue slowly up the underside, from base to tip, tasting the salty skin. His hips jerked once. Encouraged, I swirled my tongue around the head, licking away the precum before taking him into my mouth.

He filled me immediately. I had to stretch my lips wide, relaxing my throat as I sank down as far as I could. The weight of him on my tongue, the musky scent of him, the quiet groan he tried to hold back-it made me dizzy with need. I could feel my pussy clenching around nothing, dripping down my inner thighs.

I started to move, bobbing my head in a slow, wet rhythm. One hand stroked what I couldn't fit in my mouth while the other braced on his strong thigh. Marcus's hand tightened in my hair, not forcing me, but guiding, holding me there as I sucked him deeper.

"Fuck, baby," he breathed, voice strained. "Just like that. You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth."

The praise sent a fresh rush of heat through me. I moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. I took him deeper, gagging softly when he hit the back of my throat, but I didn't pull back. I wanted this. Wanted to feel him lose control because of me.

Marcus's breathing grew ragged. His free hand gripped the counter so hard his knuckles whitened. I looked up at him through my lashes, eyes watering, lips stretched obscenely around his thick length. The sight of him staring down at me like I was the filthiest, most beautiful thing he'd ever seen made me ache even more.

I sucked harder, faster, hollowing my cheeks, tongue working the underside with every stroke. Saliva dripped down my chin, onto my tank top, but I didn't care. All that mattered was the way his cock throbbed against my tongue, the quiet grunts he couldn't quite suppress, the way his hips started to rock gently, fucking my mouth in shallow thrusts.

"Avery... shit... I'm close," he warned, voice tight.

I didn't pull off. I wanted it. I wanted to taste him, to swallow every drop like the dirty secret we were becoming.

His grip in my hair tightened. His cock swelled against my tongue.

With a low, guttural groan, Marcus came.

Hot, thick pulses flooded my mouth. I swallowed greedily, moaning softly around him as I milked every last drop, my throat working until he was spent and twitching.

When I finally pulled back, gasping for air, a thin string of saliva and cum connected my swollen lips to the head of his cock before it broke.

Marcus looked down at me, chest heaving, eyes blazing with something dark and possessive.

He reached down, thumb brushing across my lower lip, wiping away the mess.

"Good girl," he murmured.

I was still kneeling there, soaked and trembling, when we both heard the faint creak of floorboards upstairs.

Mom.

AVERY POV

The creak upstairs froze us both.

Marcus's thumb was still on my lip, my knees aching on the cold kitchen tile, the taste of him thick on my tongue. My heart hammered so hard I was sure it would wake the entire house. For one terrifying second, we just stared at each other-his cock still half-hard and glistening, my chin shiny with spit and cum, my panties clinging wetly to my swollen pussy.

Then his hand slid to my arm and he pulled me up fast, almost roughly. "Living room," he growled under his breath. "Now."

I didn't argue. My legs were shaky as I followed him out of the kitchen, the faint moonlight spilling through the big windows giving just enough light to see. Marcus moved like a man who knew exactly how dangerous this was and couldn't stop himself anyway. He didn't bother with the couch. The second we were past the doorway he spun me around, pressing my back against the wall beside the television.

His mouth crashed down on mine before I could even gasp.

It wasn't gentle. This wasn't the careful man who had watched me in my bedroom or let me kneel for him in the kitchen. This was raw, desperate hunger. His tongue pushed between my lips, tasting himself on me, and I moaned into the kiss, hands fisting in his hair. He tasted like sin and midnight and everything I wasn't supposed to want.

"Been thinking about this since I saw you fingering that tight little pussy," he muttered against my mouth, voice gravel-rough. One big hand shoved my tank top up, palming my breast hard, thumb flicking over my nipple until I whimpered. "You have any idea how fucking hard it was not to drag you onto that bed right then?"

I couldn't answer. My head was spinning. All I could do was arch into his touch, grinding against the thick thigh he shoved between my legs.

Marcus yanked my panties down in one rough tug. They caught around one ankle and I kicked them off frantically. Cool air hit my dripping folds and I shivered. He didn't give me time to breathe. Two thick fingers dragged through my slickness, spreading it, then plunged inside me without warning.

I cried out-too loud. His free hand clamped over my mouth instantly.

"Quiet," he hissed, eyes blazing as he pumped his fingers deep and fast, curling them against that spot that made my knees buckle. "You want your mother to hear what a dirty little slut her daughter is for her stepdad?"

The filthy words only made me wetter. I shook my head frantically, moaning against his palm as he finger-fucked me harder, the wet sounds obscenely loud in the dark living room. My hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing the pressure building inside me.

"Please," I gasped when he finally let me breathe. "Marcus... I need you. Please fuck me."

He pulled his fingers out and I whined at the loss. In one smooth motion he spun me around, bending me over the arm of the wide sectional couch. My cheek pressed into the cushions, ass up, back arched. I heard him shove his sweatpants the rest of the way down.

The thick head of his cock nudged against my entrance, hot and heavy.

"You sure, Avery?" His voice was strained, like he was barely holding on. "Once I'm inside you, there's no going back."

I pushed back against him, trying to take him in. "I'm sure. Please- I need it. I need you."

With a low, broken groan, Marcus gripped my hips hard enough to bruise and thrust forward.

He buried himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke.

The stretch was overwhelming-burning, perfect, too much and not enough. I bit down on the cushion to muffle my scream as he bottomed out, his heavy balls pressed against my clit. He was so deep I felt him in my stomach.

"Fuck... so tight," he growled, holding still for a heartbeat, letting me adjust. "Your pussy's gripping me like it never wants to let go."

Then he started moving.

Hard. Fast. Desperate.

Each thrust slammed into me, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the living room. He fucked me like a man possessed-deep, punishing strokes that rocked my entire body forward. One hand fisted in my hair, the other dug into my hip, holding me exactly where he wanted me.

I was lost. Moaning, gasping, pushing back to meet every brutal thrust. The angle had his cock dragging against my g-spot with every stroke, pleasure crashing through me in waves.

"Harder," I begged, voice muffled by the cushion. "Please, Marcus- fuck me harder."

He snarled and gave me what I asked for. His pace turned savage, hips snapping against my ass, cock pounding into me so deep I saw stars. The couch creaked dangerously beneath us. I could feel my orgasm building fast, coiling tight and hot in my belly.

Marcus reached around and found my clit, rubbing tight, rough circles.

"Come for me, baby," he rasped, breath hot against my ear as he leaned over me. "Come on your stepdad's cock like the filthy girl you are."

That was all it took.

My orgasm slammed into me so hard my vision whited out. I cried out, body convulsing, pussy clenching and fluttering around his thick length as wave after wave crashed through me. Marcus fucked me through it, never slowing, drawing it out until I was shaking and whimpering.

Only when my climax started to fade did he let himself go.

With a guttural groan he buried himself deep one last time and came, flooding me with hot, thick pulses of cum. I felt every spurt, felt him marking me from the inside, and the thought made me shudder with aftershocks.

We stayed locked together, panting, his cock still twitching inside me as our breathing slowly evened out.

Then, from upstairs, the unmistakable sound of footsteps padding toward the bathroom.

Mom.

Marcus pulled out quickly, cum already starting to leak down my thighs. He yanked my tank top down and spun me to face him, eyes wild.

"Upstairs. Now. Quiet."

I nodded, legs trembling as I grabbed my discarded panties and darted toward the stairs, his cum still dripping out of me with every step.

We barely made it back to our rooms before the hallway light flicked on.