Step-Crush (Wanting What’s Wrong #9) Read Online Dani Wyatt

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Taboo Tags Authors: Dani Wyatt Series: Wanting What's Wrong Series by Dani Wyatt
Advertisement

Advertisement

I should have kept my mouth shut when the FBI showed up at my door.Answering their questions about my billionaire stepfather’s mafia connections has landed me in the trunk of his car.Since he and my mom parted ways, he’s been in the background of my life lurking, but I’ve always known he was there, ya know? That prickly feeling on the back of your neck that tells you someone is watching.But now he wants something else from me.Something more permanent.He says he’s a man of honor, so he makes sure we are married before…well, the real action starts.Turns out, he likes a little fight and a lot of chase. I’m not a girl who goes down easy, but for Ramses Moreno, it turns out I’ll do almost anything.Author’s Get ready for a healthy dose of unhealthy love. And, never fear, there was nothing but a piece of paper between the hero and the former wife. There’s a lot of hot action and almost no plot. So, be warned, this over the top and out of control hero doesn’t take no for an answer. Always safe, no cheating, all the steamy feels and their own kind of HEA.This is the last of the WANTING WHAT’S WRONG series of standalones.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

Ramses

With a name like Ramses Maurizio Alexander Moreno, IV, there were two ways I could go.

Become a philosopher or a madman.

I became both.

In that I have a philosophy and I’ve been called crazy more times than I can count.

Then, I met her, and I became something else.

Obsessed.

The A/C inside my car kicks into high gear with the early afternoon Tahoe sun beating down on the black exterior of my Bentley. Sitting in the back seat is proof of my madness. A new high-intensity UV light I bought after burning out the first one on those Yaz fucking pills she takes.

I bake them under the light until they are inert, then swap them for the ones she keeps in her medicine cabinet whenever I come and go from her house unannounced and unnoticed.

But after months of sabotaging her hormones, all that is over. I’ll be throwing that light into the next available dumpster. She’s pushed me to the edge this time and I’m done waiting.

My dick, in its incessantly-needy state, throbs behind my zipper reminding me of how fucking neglected it is.

If it wasn’t for my hand, I might as well cut the fucker off because since Bijou came into my life, no other women had a chance.

But at first she was full-throttle off limits.

I’m a man of singular purpose when I want something. Patience is not my virtue. But for her, I’ve waited. Told myself this once, I could not have what I wanted. She deserved better.

She deserved a life. One with picket fences and minivans. One without the worry of retaliation and a husband who kills like other men mow the lawn. It’s just something that needs doing sometimes.

She would have weekends with the girls, drink too much wine, pretending suburbia was what she wanted. Not a beast of a husband who bangs her ass up against the wall when she gets out of line, shoving my fingers down her throat as she tries to scream like I murdered her family.

A man who soothes her with his cock in her sassy little mouth until she falls asleep with a new attitude.

But my little stepdaughter won’t be getting the minivan and macchiato life because she crossed the fucking line.

She talked to the wrong person. And now it’s time she learned I’m always watching. Always listening. Waiting for the moment when my control snaps and I do the unthinkable.

To her.

With her.

For her.

That moment is now, as I watch her dancing around the house I bought for our family when I married her mother years ago. Bijou was a girl then, and I silently swore to protect her forever. But as the years passed, I promised myself other things.

Things a stepfather shouldn’t promise.

I never touched her mother. Marrying her was a favor I never thought would be called in. But when it was, I answered. Because under all the darkness and violence, I am a man of honor.

I live by a code, even if it is my own.

My all-consuming obsession has brought me here, rubbing my concrete hard erection as I sit behind the wheel of my blacked-out armored Bentley. High-resolution binoculars press into my eye sockets as my heart thunders in my chest, knowing that by the end of the day, she will understand her role from this day forward.

Mine.

I’ve planned everything down to the minute. I haven’t slept in a week. She’d opened her mouth to the wrong person and it was time for her lessons to begin.

I grit my teeth as I shift in my seat, trying to get my balls to stop aching because they’re ready to fucking bust.

Implementing measures for the last year on how to increase your sperm count has its pros and cons.

I switched to boxers.

I chilled my nutsack until it damn near froze off.

I ate fucking clean, whatever the hell that means.

I worked out and took some Eastern medicine supplement that made everything taste like maple syrup. The fucking works.

But now that the time is drawing near for my swimmers to march into her womb and conquer, I wish I’d done more.

I need her bound to me right fucking now.

The pounding obsession with impregnating my stepdaughter pushes me to the edge of reason, blurring my vision and darkening my already-black soul.

I stare at my phone where it sits on the console, her fresh face on the screen as I reach down and flip through the file of her photos.

The first one I ever took occupies the front of my phone screen, taken when she woke up on her eighteenth birthday.

She’s cross-legged on her bed, sporting a wicked bedhead and a Rammstein t-shirt from the concert the night before. It’s been her favorite band since I introduced her to German industrial metal when she was fifteen.

The tickets, backstage passes and the private suite equipped with a full battalion of security from Moreno Consolidated Industries was my gift to her and ten of her closest friends.

Advertisement