All Chapters of MY TABOO STEP DADDY : Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

243 Chapters

MARRY ME, BUNNY

[CARLTON’S POV] The night air hits my skin like a caress, cool and crisp and carrying the scent of the city: exhaust and flowers and something indefinably Fijidale that I've learned to love despite myself. Tristan's hand finds the small of my back as we step out of the car, and the touch is possessive without being aggressive, claiming without being violent. For once. The restaurant is exquisite in a way that screams old money and careful cultivation. Soft golden light spills from the windows, and I can see couples seated together, their heads bent close, their hands intertwined across white tablecloth. The kind of place where people come to celebrate love rather than conduct business or extract vengeance. I glance at Tristan, and he's dressed in an Armani suit, his jaw dusted with stubble that makes him look simultaneously dangerous and tragically beautiful. His one good eye, that molten gold that can turn from gentle to lethal in a heartbeat, catches the light as he surveys t

Last Updated : 2026-06-19

I LOVE YOU TOO

[CARLTON’S POV]The bathroom door shuts with a soft click, and Tristan is on me like a predator that's finally caught its prey.His mouth finds mine, and the kiss is nothing like the reverent thing he did at the table. This is hunger. This is desperation. This is a man who's just gotten what he needs and is now intent on reminding every cell in my body that I belong to him.Our clothes come off in a tangle of fabric and fumbling hands. I pull his shirt off his shoulders, and he doesn't bother with the careful seduction of foreplay. Instead, he just tugs his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock, and the sight of it makes my breath catch: thick and pierced with eight Prince Albert rings, the cap flushed and swollen from earlier, the shaft scarred and absolutely massive.He hoists me onto the marble counter, and I barely have time to register the cool stone against my ass before he's pushing inside."Fuck!" The scream tears from my throat before I can stop it, because even knowing

Last Updated : 2026-06-20

THE GHOST IN THE CROWD

[TRISTAN’S POV ] Something is wrong. I feel it the moment we step out of the restaurant—the way Carlton's eyes are moving, scanning the crowd like he's looking for something that terrifies him. His hand finds mine, but his attention is elsewhere, caught on something I can't quite see yet. The cameras are still flashing, the paparazzi are still screaming our names, but Carlton's jaw is tight, his breathing slightly elevated. I catalog the shift in his body language the way I've learned to catalog everything about him over the years—the tilt of his head, the tension in his shoulders, the way his pupils have dilated slightly. Something spooked him in there. The car is waiting, sleek and black and offering privacy from the rabid media that's decided our public proposal is the event of the century. I guide Carlton inside with a hand on the small of his back, and I can feel the way he's vibrating with whatever it is he saw. "Sit," I command, keeping my voice soft because Ca

Last Updated : 2026-06-21

LOVING HIM

[YOSEF'S POV] The camera flashes are blinding. I watch from the back of the crowd, hidden in the folds of my black cloak, my face obscured by the hood pulled low over my features. My heart is pounding so hard I'm worried someone will hear it, will turn and see the way my entire body is vibrating with the kind of rage that comes before violence, before blood, before a man decides that his own survival doesn't matter anymore. Tristan is on his knees. My Tristan. The man I gave everything to. The man I sacrificed the Pyramid Brotherhood for. The man who looked at me like I was nothing when I was bleeding and broken and begging for a crumb of his attention. He's on his knees, and he's holding a ring, and he's asking Carlton—that pretty, privileged boy—to marry him. Carlton says yes. The crowd erupts, and I feel something inside my chest crack. The applause is deafening, the screams of celebration mixing with the sound of the cameras, with the chaos of a world that's de

Last Updated : 2026-06-22

DOPPLEGANGER

[DECLAN’S POV] The bathroom mirror fogs with steam as I step out, my body still dripping with warm water that hasn't managed to wash away the weight of the last few hours. I grab the towel and wrap it around my waist, my movements automatic and familiar—a routine I've done a thousand times before, back when I had someone waiting for me in bed, back when life made something resembling sense. Back when Harry was alive. I run the towel through my hair, and the happiness sits in my chest like something too fragile to hold. Selene is alive. After months of carrying her death like a stone in my pocket, after burying her with my own hands and watching the dirt swallow what I thought was her last piece of existence, she's alive and breathing and real. The relief of it is almost unbearable: the kind of relief that makes you want to scream and laugh and break things all at the same time. But Harry isn't here to celebrate with me. I toss the towel toward the couch with the same absent-mi

Last Updated : 2026-06-23

IRISH MAN

[DAMON’S POV] The man on the bed is a vision of sin and regret. His green eyes are the same shade as mine, but where mine are carrying the weight of loss and trauma and a lifetime of being a cop in a world that doesn't care about justice, his are carrying something I can't quite name. His chest is heaving, his skin glistening with the remnants of what he was clearly doing before I walked in, and his cock is still half-hard, lying against his abdomen like a weapon that's just been fired. Jesus Christ. That thing is massive. I'm staring at it like I'm trying to solve a mathematical equation, trying to calculate the exact number of inches, the girth, the sheer impossible width of it. Ten? Eleven? Fifteen? I've never seen anything like it in my life, not even on Yosef, and Yosef was built like a mountain. But this Irish giant has something that looks like it belongs in a fantasy, something that makes my mouth go dry and my cock go impossibly harder. The girls he uses it on must be b

Last Updated : 2026-06-24

BRAT

[DECLAN’S POV] When Damon pulls away, he's smiling, but it's fragile: like it's costing him something to maintain it. His eyes are still rimmed with the evidence of tears, and he keeps looking down at his shoes like they might provide answers to questions he's afraid to ask. "I'm sorry," he says again, and the words come out like a mantra, like he's been apologizing for existing his entire life. I watch him, really watch him, and I see it all written across his face. The grief. The loneliness. The particular quality of pain that comes from loving someone who decided you weren't worth staying for. My hand reaches out before I can stop it, cupping his face with a gentleness that probably shouldn't be possible coming from someone built like I am. I tilt his chin up until he's forced to meet my eyes, and when he does, I feel something inside me shift and settle. "You tell me you're sorry but never meet my eyes," I say, and my voice comes out rough. "Are you referring to my abs or

Last Updated : 2026-06-25

YOUR COCK IS HUGE

[DAMON’S POV] I watch him sleep like I'm memorizing him, like I'm trying to catalog every detail so that when this inevitable ends—and it will end, because nothing good lasts in this world—I'll still have the image of him burned into my memory. The Irish god is sprawled across the right side of the bed, his massive frame taking up more space than one person should be allowed to occupy. He's holding that photograph like it's keeping him alive, like the image of the beautiful British boy is the only thing tethering him to sanity. His dark hair is still damp from the shower, and in the soft light coming through the window, he looks almost peaceful. Almost. I can still feel the impression of his cock in my hand, can still taste the salt of his skin on my lips. The photograph fell from his hand earlier, and when I picked it up and saw the blue eyes staring back at me with that particular quality of mischief, I understood everything I needed to know about why he was jerking off to

Last Updated : 2026-06-26

OBSESSED

[DECLAN’S POV] The smell of hot coffee pulls me from sleep like a siren's call. I surface slowly, consciousness creeping back in layers—first the awareness of the mattress beneath me, then the weight of the duvet, then the particular quality of light filtering through the windows that suggests morning has already settled over the compound like a benediction. My cock stirs before my brain fully catches up, and I'm already hardening from the simple act of breathing, the simple act of existing in a space that smells like him. That's when I open my eyes and lock directly onto green. Fuck. He's standing there with the coffee in hand, and the morning light catches the planes of his face in a way that makes him look almost ethereal. His hair is still damp from what I assume was a shower, and he's changed into soft pajamas that do absolutely nothing to hide the outline of his morning wood. The domesticity of the moment—him bringing me coffee, the casual intimacy of it—hits harder than

Last Updated : 2026-06-27

BROKEN

[DAMON’S POV] The beach is the only place in this compound where I can breathe without feeling like I'm suffocating. I sit on the sand with my knees drawn up to my chest, and I'm crying in a way that I swore I'd never cry again. The tears taste like salt and shame, and they mix with the ocean spray in a way that feels almost cleansing. Almost. The memory of his words keeps playing on repeat in my head, each iteration more painful than the last. “I'm about to do to you what I do to him.” Like I'm cheap. Like I'm easy. Like I'm nothing more than a substitute for a dead man he loved more than he could ever love anyone in the present. I blame myself for being too emotionally vulnerable, for allowing myself to be attracted so easily to men who are fundamentally broken in ways that mirror my own brokenness. Almost all the men in the Bratva have fucked me—I've lost count of how many, lost track of their names and their faces and the ways they used my body like it was nothing more than a

Last Updated : 2026-06-28

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