Travis walked into the house, his senses immediately alert to the faint, muffled sounds coming from upstairs. His wife was out of town, leaving him alone with his stepdaughter, Taylor. He had agreed to keep an eye on her, but as he heard the unmistakable sound of a girl's giggle mixed with low, masculine murmurs, his patience wore thin.
Travis felt a familiar surge of frustration coursing through his veins. Taylor had Matty over again, and the thought of that boy touching her, of his hands roaming over what Travis secretly craved, ignited a flame of jealousy that he could no longer ignore.
He moved up the stairs with purpose, stopping outside Taylor's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he could see them on the bed. Matty was leaning over Taylor, his mouth latched onto her bare breast, her shirt already discarded on the floor. Taylor's head was thrown back, her lips parted in a soft moan, her hand tangled in Matty's hair.
Travis's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides as he watched, unable to look away. A possessive rage bubbled up within him. No one should be touching her like that. No one but him.
He shoved the door open, making it slam against the wall. Taylor gasped, pushing Matty away as they both scrambled to cover themselves.
"What the hell is going on here?" Travis's voice was a low growl, filled with barely contained fury.
Matty jumped up, looking panicked. "Mr. Kelce, I—uh—we were just—"
"Get the fuck out," Travis snapped, his eyes never leaving Taylor's flushed face.
Matty hesitated for a moment, but the intensity of Travis's glare sent him scurrying out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and Taylor was left alone with Travis, her heart pounding in her chest.
"What were you thinking?" Travis demanded, stepping closer, his voice cold and sharp. "Letting him put his filthy hands all over you?"
Taylor felt a flush of embarrassment, but also something else—something darker, more thrilling. She could feel the intensity radiating off Travis, his eyes dark with something that made her insides twist with a strange, forbidden excitement.
"Why do you care?" she shot back defiantly, her chest heaving as she tried to maintain some semblance of composure. "You're not my dad."
Travis's eyes narrowed, his gaze dropping to where her shirt still lay discarded on the floor. "You're right," he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerously low register. "I'm not your dad. But I am in charge here. And I don't like sharing what's mine."
His words sent a shiver down her spine. "Yours?" she whispered, almost breathless.
He stepped closer, and she could feel the heat of his body against hers. "Yes, mine," he growled, his hand moving to cup her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Do you think I'm blind, Taylor? I see the way you look at me... the way you dress when you know I'm around."
Taylor swallowed hard, trying to hide her reaction. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered.
His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Don't play dumb with me, sweetheart. You wanted my attention, and now you have it."
She gasped softly as his thumb pressed harder, tugging her lip down. "Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a jolt of heat straight between her thighs.
"I..." she hesitated, but his intense gaze made her feel like he could see right through her. "Yes," she finally admitted, barely a whisper.
His eyes darkened with satisfaction. "Good girl," he murmured. "Now, show me what you let him do to you."
