Little Brats: Olivia: Forbidden Taboo Erotica Read Free Page A

jaw tightening, eyes finally closing as his head went back. “Fuck, I’m gonna come for you!”
    Yes, yes, oh fuck, Daddy, yessss! Her mind screamed as she finger-fucked herself to climax, watching him have his. Her hips rocked, belly tightening, struggling to keep her own eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of his orgasm.
    He fell back onto the pillows, hips bucking up, sacs tight as he let out another low moan, streams of white shooting from the head of his cock onto his undulating stomach. Olivia grabbed the wall to support herself as her hips moved out of control, watching wave after wave of cum splashing her stepfather’s belly. Her pussy spasmed, inner walls clenching hard around her fingers, creating pulses that burst like fire through her body.
    Olivia shrank back when he slowly rose from the bed. She was still trembling, fingers buried deep, her inner walls continuing to clench in the aftermath of her orgasm. She watched him strip his clothes and throw them into the hamper in the closet. He paused a moment in front of the full-length mirror, rubbing a hand over his short beard. He was so handsome, it made her heart hurt. Then he removed his glasses, tossing them on the dresser before walking into the bathroom.
    Though he was still handsome without them, Olivia loved his dark-rimmed glasses—they gave him a bookish charm, amid his short, brown curls and soft, short beard. She knew what her mother had seen in him, for sure. Of course, back then, his career as an A-list thriller writer was about to take off.
    Olivia remembered the scene she’d witnessed in the library, and the inside joke her mother always made about meeting her husband “in the library” suddenly took on a whole new meaning. That’s how they met, she realized, with dawning horror.
    He’d gotten his book published, and then he’d celebrated by fucking Catherine Comstock. Maybe he’d thought he had really won the prize, when he got to marry her. But poor Randall had gotten the short end of that stick. Catherine didn’t have much use for him these days, since he’d moved from a successful genre into writing young adult fiction. Clearly, she had moved on.
    Olivia heard the shower turn on and she dared to stand. Her knees felt wobbly, but she snuck into the closet anyway and grabbed his shirt out of the hamper. As she turned to run out, she noticed the book still sitting on his bed where he’d been sitting. It wasn’t a book at all, she saw up close. It was a journal, one of those blank books they sold at Barnes and Noble for people to write in. There was a rose, a red one, at the center, with a line above it for some sort of title. Instead of a title, there was just one letter: “O.”
    She wanted to read it. Open it up right there and read it. Or maybe she could just take it? But then he would know. She’d get caught. She couldn’t risk that. So Olivia crept back to her room, her stepfather’s shirt still pressed to her nose. The scent of his cologne put a smile on her face. It was a mix of something, jasmine and patchouli, with the smell of his brand of whiskey mixed in, along with the spicy scent of his sweat. That last did her in, making her lightheaded as she repeatedly inhaled on her way to her room.

    She couldn’t get the image out of her head, and of course, when she had an image she couldn’t erase from her mind, she had to draw it. She stripped down to nothing, taking off bra and panties too this time, and put on her stepfather’s shirt. She wanted to bathe in her scent. Then she sat on her bed, her pussy still pulsing from her climax, and drew him.
    The image of Randall stroking his cock wouldn’t leave her, even as it began to take shape on her sketchpad. She spent a great deal of time and detail into drawing his fingers wrapped around his cock, from the shape of the head, to the map of veins on the shaft, to the tiny hairs on his ball sac. Using both her finger and the eraser to shade, she made his erection come to