Chapter 6 Jack
Robyn jerks her head back in reaction to my words, and a disbelieving snort sails from her lips. “Yeah, that’s not happening, there’s no way I’m staying here with you.”
“That’s too bad, because unfortunately neither of us have a choice in the matter.
” I’m just as pissed as she is, believe me, but there’s nothing either one of us can do about it for the time being.
The snow is falling way too hard, the roads are already starting to ice over, and the chance of an accident happening in a car is higher than usual.
When I woke up this morning with the worst pain in my neck—not to mention how tight my shoulders were—from sleeping on the world’s most uncomfortable sofa, I didn’t even realise there was almost a foot of snow outside the house until I ventured into the gym for my morning workout.
And the kicker… the weather didn’t look like it was easing up any time soon.
Oak Hill Crescent is about a two-hour drive from the city, and where most of my company staff were able to get into work today, I on the other hand, was not.
It’s why I rarely stay here during the week, because you never know what could happen with the weather at this time of year in Colorado.
Plus, when I stay in the city it’s much closer, and easier for me to travel to work.
“You can stay here, but I’m not.” She scoffs, as though the idea of being stuck in a house with me is ludicrous to her.
I mean, I’m not the worst person to be stuck with… am I?
“I have shit to do.”
“Don’t we all.” I roll my eyes sardonically.
She backs away from me one step at a time. “Yeah, well, I have a job, plans in LA…” She presses her index finger to each of the other ones on her left hand as she lists everything. “And you think a little snow is going to stop me?”
“You’re not the only one, Robyn. I too have a business to run, or do you only think about yourself?”
She laughs dryly as she says, “Oh, fuck you. I’m the least selfish person you’ll ever meet. Trust me.” She turns on her heel and flips me off over her shoulder as she darts up the stairs to—I’m assuming—gather her things.
I can’t help my full-on smirk as I watch her storm up the curved stairwell like a little brat. “You can cry about it all you want, sweetheart, but it won’t change anything!” I call after her, knowing she’ll hear every word, even in the bedroom.
I really should go change.
But I refuse to miss her tantrum for even a second.
Don’t get me wrong, the situation isn’t exactly ideal for either of us, but it is what it is.
I doubt anyone in the surrounding area—which isn’t many—would even think about trying to go out in this kind of weather.
In a mere matter of seconds, Robyn stomps down the stairs with her suitcase in tow, sneakers on, and still wearing my goddamn clothes.
Which, weirdly enough… look great on her.
I was so busy arguing with one of my managers at Citadel Group, I didn’t notice at first. But once I’d finally calmed down and it registered with me that she was wearing one of my black T-shirts and a pair of my grey sweats… I wasn’t mad at it.
“I’ll mail your shit to you when I’m home,” she grunts as she storms past me, looking determined to leave this place one way or another.
“I’m sorry, did you not hear a word I said?” I question with a little more heat in my tone.
“Oh, I heard you just fine, grumpy gills, I’m just choosing not to listen to you.”
“Christ help me,” I grumble as I follow closely behind her, both of us crossing the foyer of my home towards my front door.
If she opens that door and my cock and balls drop off… I’ll lose my shit.
“Don’t open that door, Robyn, or so help me!” I demand, stopping behind her as she continues walking. Is she completely insane? Walking outside when the weather could quite literally cause hypothermia. “Robyn!” I bark loudly, but still she ignores me.
Nothing was mentioned on the news about an impending blizzard coming our way, and nobody knows when it will stop, either.
Usually snowfall only lasts a couple of hours in Colorado, but pair that with how thick it is, and a few hours could mean the difference between an inch of snow or several.
There’s no telling how bad this could get.
Ignoring me completely, she wraps her slender hand around the round, brass doorhandle and looks over her shoulder at me.
“Robyn,” I snarl, warning her one last time through clenched teeth. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
“Enjoy being stuck in here alone, Daddy.” She adds the last word mockingly. I should feel nothing from the sound of her calling me that, but something heats in the centre of my chest. A desire to… no.
No desire. You can get that out of your head right now, Jack.
Robyn barely has a chance to open the door only before I lurch forward and yank her back harshly by her right shoulder, slamming the door aggressively beside me. “What the fuck!?”
“What did I say?”
I slowly bridge the gap between us and watch as she retreats—not unlike a petrified deer, but more so with a look of defiance written all over her face.
Little by little I force her to the wall beside the door and when her back finally comes into contact with it, I stop in front of her, leaving little to no space between us now.
“Firstly, if you want to die—because that’s exactly what would happen to you if you ventured out there—I can think of far more relaxing ways to go out.” She opens her mouth to speak but I continue, “Quiet.” Shutting her up before she has a chance to piss me off any further.
The feel of her faint breathing dances across my own lips and I’m all too aware of how close I am to her. Not too close where our lips meet, but near enough that I can feel her nipples grazing just below my pectorals. I should step back, give her some space, but I can’t.
“Secondly.” I press one hand against the wall just beside her head, caging her in further while completely ignoring my conscience ordering me to leave.
“While you’re under my roof, and I don’t care how much you want to protest, Robyn, you’ll do as I say when I say it.
And lastly—” I lean in closer, dipping my head slightly, and she turns hers to the opposite side, looking away from me.
I pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, dragging her attention back to me.
“Don’t ever call me ‘Daddy’ again. Not unless you want me to put you on your knees and punish you like the brat you are. ”
Robyn rolls her lips inwards, her encapsulating blue eyes staring up at me through thick lashes as we stand there in silence with nothing but our laboured breathing swirling around us.
Spicy hints of my shower gel invade my nostrils, and even though I want to ask her about it, I quash the desire immediately.
Fuck, why do I enjoy the fact that she smells of me?
The realisation conjures up the sickest thoughts inside my head.
I lower my voice to a little more than a whisper and lift one hand to her jaw, holding it loosely.
“Do you understand everything I just said, Robyn?” Curling my lower lip, I slide the tip of my tongue over it again before biting down on it softly.
My body riddled with all the depraved things I would do to her for her defiance in this moment if she were anyone else.
But she’s not anyone else, she’s your stepdaughter.
She jerks her head to the side, and I release her, pressing that hand to the other side of the wall, just like the other.
I know I should step back, leave, get as far away from her as I possibly can, because the way I’m looking at her and thinking about her isn’t the way I should be towards a girl half my age.
Because I know how I would react to someone doing the exact same thing to my daughter—if I had one.
“Yes,” she growls gently, looking everywhere but into my eyes.
Just as I’m about to speak again, she looks down for a split second and I watch as her eyes widen in shock.
Next, her breath hitches in reaction to something, but she still doesn’t look away.
I watch as her lips part a little, staring for a few seconds longer before quickly returning her attention back to me.
“Your, uh…” She clears her throat nervously, her words coming out a little hoarse.
“My what?”
“Your towel, it’s… um… it’s not… wrapped around your waist anymore.” She doesn’t look at me when she says it, refusing to meet my stare. So I look down, noticing she is in fact correct. I’m completely naked and pressed up against her.
“Pick it up.”
Robyn’s deep blue eyes snap to mine. “Excuse me?”
The space between her brows creases and she curls the left side of her top lip.
But it’s not in disgust, more so in a look of utter confusion and shock at my command.
And honestly, I’m completely baffled as to why I would ask her to do something like that myself.
But I can’t help the feeling of enjoyment that runs through me as she narrows her eyes in my direction. Testing me.
It’s not as though I haven’t had this same look from my fair share of women before, that look of utter disdain at saying something they wanted to hear, but at the same time it makes their feminism fly directly out the window. And the way Robyn’s glaring at me right now… is no different.
The problem for me lies in the fact that most women don’t seem to bother me the way she seems to. I mean, she’s been under my roof for less than twelve hours, and already her behaviour is starting to grate on me.
But not in the way I hate.
My feelings are closer to frustration than anything else because I want to punish her, but I know I can’t.
Having her in such close proximity without being able to… touch her… is what’s pissing me off, and the worst part of all this is I want to. God, do I want to.
Take last night for instance. Even as I laid spread out on the couch, I couldn’t stop thinking about her sleeping in my bed.
I listened to the shower turn off, the sound of her feet as she moved across the floorboards in my room. Christ, I even imagined her sprawled out on my mattress, thinking of all the ways I’d take her if I was there… like some fucking deviant.
“Excuse me?” She speaks, interrupting my dirty little thoughts. “I’m not bending down to pick up your towel. Who the fuck do you think I—”
“I said bend down, Robyn, and pick it up.” I step closer, the head of my cock brushing along the soft fabric of my sweats she’s wearing. “Don’t make me repeat myself, I really hate that.”
For a brief moment I think she might slap me for ordering her to do such a thing, but she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t move at all, she simply stands there with her arms draped at her sides. Funny, she’s easier to annoy than I am, which puts her at a major disadvantage.
Her clipped breathing isn’t making the situation any better either, because with how faint it is, I’m also wondering what she sounds like in the height of pleasure.
Is she louder, reckless? Does she swear?
Would she cry out like a banshee if I took her roughly against the wall?
How would her face contort when I hit that spot deep inside her cunt.
Images of her draped over my bed, naked before me, and—nope… Stop, Jack.
I raise my eyebrow at her, wondering if she will actually do what I told her to. “You caused this issue, so you can correct it. It’s as simple as that.”
Narrowing her eyes, she presses her lips together, looking at me with utter contempt.
I continue to stare her down for what feels like forever, and suddenly, without warning at all, I see her begin to concede.
She begins sliding her back down the wall, her deep blue eyes never leaving mine in case she gets an eyeful of her stepfather’s cock.
It’s funny really, the lower she drops to her knees, the warmer my body becomes.
The more it starts to ache with need, silently begging for just a little touch.
Because even though she is fully clothed, even though fucking her will never happen, the sight of her as she kneels before me… is an image I’ll never forget.
She looks unbelievably stunning on her knees for me, and I can feel the warmth in my lower stomach spreading throughout the expanse of my body, my desire telling me one thing…
but my brain saying another. I wonder how she would react if I touched her, how she would sound if I slid two fingers inside her, working her perfectly until she came all over my hand with my name on her exhausted lips.
Exploring all the areas of her until I found out what she loved, what made her break and whimper into the void.
Is she a screamer?
How does her sweat taste when she’s been fucked six ways from Sunday?
Do her toes curl when she reaches orgasm?
All questions I refuse to learn the answers to.
Why?
Because even though I hated hearing her call me ‘Daddy,’ I am in fact her stepfather until I divorce her mother… and fucking her would be completely inappropriate.
So, why is it I can’t take my eyes off her and halt the filthy thoughts running through me?
I know the outline of my half-hard cock sits directly within her field of vision, but she’s very gracefully choosing to ignore it. Her hands fumble around the wooden floor in search of my towel.
I could help her, but I won’t.
She must finally make contact with it because when she raises her hand, pushing the fabric into my own, I grip it tightly and wrap it back around my waist. My stare still constant, unwavering, controlling her, and silently letting her know she can move when I say she can.
When the towel is secure enough, I crouch down to her level and cup the underside of her chin with my palm once more, lightly brushing my thumb over her plump bottom lip. Murmuring two words so softly they’re almost released as a whisper. “Good girl.”
Her breath hitches the moment she hears them, and as though realising I heard her little whimper of need, she jerks her chin from my grasp, and I snicker gruffly.
I don’t wait for her to say anything as I stand back to my full height and step back.
“Your bags will be back in my room, and just like last night you’ll sleep in my bed.
I’ll take the couch until the weather dies down.
” I grab her bags and walk towards the stairs, leaving her in the atrium.
Still sitting on her knees, her face filled with shock, and mine with nothing but a smirk.