I’ve called the cops so many times they say my name when they pick up the phone. There’s nothing I can do but wait for her to turn up. She’s eighteen, it hasn’t been twenty-four hours, and since she wasn’t kidnapped, she’s free to do what she wants.

I take my scotch and go over to the breakfast bar, getting ready to make another call to all the local hospitals, praying that she isn’t there. I want to know where she is, but I’m terrified something awful has happened to her.

As I dial the first number, I hear the elevator ding and my heart starts beating out of my chest. I feel like I imagined it, but when the doors open, I drop my phone and rush to the elevator.

Grabbing Sophie up in a bear hug, I squeeze the life out of her. “Where in God’s name have you been? Fuck, I was so worried.” I bury my face in her silky blonde hair and inhale her sweet scent, holding her curvy body to mine, not wanting to ever let go. She’s so small and compact, she fits against me perfectly. Like she was made for me.

She leans back and I let go, giving her a little space. It’s clear from her body language she wants some distance.

“I’m sorry, Bruce, I didn’t mean to worry you. I just needed to get away for a few hours and think.”

“Think about what?”

“I’m tired of chasing affection. I’m worth more than that.”

I stand there and let her words hit me. “You are worth more. You’re worth everything, and you deserve it all.”

“I may be young, but I know what I want. I want someone who’s willing to give up everything for me. And I deserve someone who’s proud to be with me instead of being ashamed of their feelings.”

“Sophie, it’s more complicated than that—”

“No. It’s simple,” she says, cutting me off. “I’m not going to be the lost puppy chasing someone around and begging for attention. I’m going to take some time and figure out what I want to do next, but until I know my next move, I’m done being a burden.”

“Sophie—”

“It’s not your fault, Bruce. It’s been like this my whole life. I’m just tired of being a second choice.” She squares her shoulders, and I can see her decision is final. She’s a lot like her mom was—when she got that look, I knew she wouldn’t be changing her mind.

I start to say something, but she turns and walks away, heading towards her bedroom. Seconds later I hear her door shut. I stand there, stunned.

I go back to the breakfast bar and sit down, taking a drink of my scotch. I think about what she’s just said, and what she really means. She wants someone to choose her. Sophie wants someone in her life, for once, to pick her over everything else.

* * *

After a couple of hours and more than a couple of drinks, I finally get up and make my way to my bedroom. I have played Sophie’s words over and over in my head. As I walk down the hall, I pause outside her door, listening for any sounds.

“Get it together, Bruce,” I whisper to myself, and then go to my room.

I get undressed and slide on some loose shorts, preparing to rub my aching cock before I pass out. It hurts all the time now, and it’s because of Sophie. I never had this problem before. I went years without anything more than a twitch.

I let out a frustrated grunt and climb onto the cool sheets, reaching down to palm my throbbing dick. I rub it a few times, thinking of Sophie, and then her words from tonight pop into my head.

She says she wants someone to choose her and give up everything for her. What does she expect? Does she really think I can make a life with my eighteen-year-old stepdaughter and not have people go crazy? Does she expect me to just give up the career I’ve worked decades to achieve?

I rub my cock, and I just get madder. How can she think it’s that simple, or that I haven’t been chasing after her? That’s all my mind seems to doing. Her young pussy just walks into my house, flips it upside down, and I’m supposed to just agree to everything she wants, because she’s perfect?

Fuck.

I try to shake her out of my head and just get off so I can go to sleep. But every time I stroke myself, it’s her who’s in my mind. I’m craving her taste, her scent, her touch, and it’s driving me insane. More than anything I want to feel her lips against mine. Would I be her first kiss, I wonder? Would I be her first everything? White-hot desire and longing shoot through me.




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