Chapter 1

I never imagined I'd be sitting in the cold, sterile visiting room of the Los Angeles County detention center, my hands shaking as I picked up the phone on my side of the glass partition. My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe.

On the other side sat Jax — my boyfriend of eight months — looking rough in his orange jumpsuit, his usual cocky smirk replaced by desperation. But the man standing beside him in a sharp black designer suit, reviewing case files with calm authority, made my stomach drop.

Kane Voss. My stepfather.

The most feared prosecutor in Los Angeles. The man who never lost a case. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the same strong jaw and piercing dark eyes as Jax, but polished with dangerous maturity. Where Jax was wild chaos, Kane was controlled power wrapped in expensive suits and quiet dominance.

And I had been secretly, shamefully in love with him for years.

"Piper," Kane's deep voice came through the speaker, smooth and icy. His eyes locked onto mine through the glass, slowly dragging down my body like he was undressing me right there. "What a surprise."

I swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. "Please… Kane. Mr. Voss. Jax didn't do everything they're charging him with. He's not a bad guy. Can you… can you help him? I'll do anything."

Kane's lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. He dismissed the guard with a nod and leaned closer to the glass, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

"You're lying, sweetheart. You don't really care if that biker trash rots in prison. Look at you — thighs pressed together, cheeks flushed, nipples already hard under that innocent little top." His gaze burned into me. "You've been dripping for your stepdaddy for a long time, haven't you? Every time I come home late and loosen my tie, you sneak glances at me like a needy little slut."

My face burned with humiliation. How did he know? I had been so careful.

"I won't tell your mother about your dirty little secret," he continued, voice velvet and steel. "And I'll make sure Jax gets a… manageable sentence. Ten years instead of twenty. But tonight, when you get home, you will come straight to my study. Wear the shortest skirt you own. No panties. And you will obey every single word I say. Understand?"

My pussy clenched involuntarily at his commanding tone. I nodded frantically, whispering, "Yes… Daddy."

The word slipped out before I could stop it. Kane's eyes darkened with raw possession.

"Good girl."

---

That night, the house was quiet. Mom had already gone to bed. I stood trembling in front of Kane's heavy oak desk in his private study, wearing nothing but a tiny pleated schoolgirl-style skirt that barely covered my ass. The cool air of the room brushed against my bare, slick pussy with every nervous shift of my weight.

Kane sat back in his leather chair like a king, one ankle crossed over his knee, slowly swirling a glass of whiskey. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, revealing a hint of his strong chest. He looked every bit the powerful attorney who owned this city.

"Lift the skirt, princess. Show Daddy that pretty cunt you've been hiding from me."

My hands shook as I obeyed, pulling the hem up to my waist. I was completely exposed — smooth, pink, and already shamefully wet. Kane's gaze devoured me, dark and hungry.

"Now spread your legs wider. Good girl. Touch yourself. Slow circles on that swollen little clit. But you are not allowed to cum. Not until I say so."

I whimpered as my fingers found my aching clit. The first touch sent electricity shooting through me. I was already soaked, my juices coating my thighs. I rubbed slow, obedient circles, biting my lip to hold back moans. My hips started rocking instinctively, chasing more friction.

Kane watched with intense focus, his free hand adjusting the obvious bulge in his pants. "That's it. Look how wet you are just from standing in front of your stepfather. Does it turn you on, knowing Mommy is sleeping right upstairs while you play with your dirty pussy for me?"

"Yes…" I gasped, fingers moving faster. The pressure built quickly, unbearably. "Daddy… please… I'm so close. Let me cum. Please—"

"Not yet." His voice was calm, controlled, but laced with dark pleasure. "Keep going. Edge that needy cunt. Tell me how it feels."

"It feels so good… I'm dripping everywhere… my pussy keeps clenching, wanting something inside…" My voice broke into desperate little whimpers. I was right on the edge, thighs trembling violently.

Just as the first waves of orgasm started to crash over me—

"Kane? Honey, is everything okay in there?" Mom's voice called from just outside the study door, followed by approaching footsteps.

Pure terror exploded through me.

My legs gave out instantly. I dropped to my knees on the thick carpet, thighs spread obscenely, fingers still pressed against my pulsing clit. A ruined, shattered orgasm ripped through my body — weak, unsatisfying, and humiliating. My pussy spasmed hard around nothing, a small gush of wetness dripping onto the floor as I bit my arm to stay silent.

Kane took a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Perfect," he murmured. "We're just getting started, princess."