Rebel Promiscuous Boy & the Stepdad - Part 2: The Ass Giver
When desire crosses the line.
At long last, the follow-up to the second most popular story I’ve ever published is here. I’ve received countless emails and DMs asking for this continuation, and I appreciate your patience. It’s been roughly a year. Trust me—it’s been worth the wait.
Don’t forget to drop a like to let me know you 🍆💦💦💦
— X.
Need to catch up?
When I pulled into the driveway, the lights were on, and my watch read 3:07 AM. The back door creaked open just as I stepped out of the car.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Billy’s voice was low, rough around the edges, his silhouette filling the doorway.
“Out,” I said, sliding past him, my more petite frame slipping through the narrow space between his body and the doorframe.
“‘Out’ isn’t the answer I’m looking for, Josh. Do you even know what time it is?”
“Yeah. Time for me to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” I stretched my arms overhead, feigning nonchalance, and turned toward the staircase.
“Stop.”
His voice cut through me, sharp as glass. I froze mid-step.
“What the hell is that on your shirt?”
Billy’s hand shot out, fingers curling into the fabric, lifting it enough to expose a faint smear of something—red, maybe? His brows furrowed.
“What happened?”
I jerked back, yanking my shirt down. “It’s nothing. I tripped, okay?”
His nostrils flared as he stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking the narrow hallway. He leaned in, head tilting slightly, inhaling near my neck and chest.
“You smell like sweat… shame… and sex,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
I crossed mine in response. “There was no shame in what I did tonight.”
Billy’s lips curled into something between a sneer and a smirk before he lunged forward, fisting the collar of my shirt and slamming me back against the wall. The drywall gave a faint crack behind me.
“You’ve been out fucking around when your little ass should’ve been home.”
A slow smirk tugged at my lips. “And what do I smell on you, Billy Joe? Smells like we’ve been up to the same thing.”
His grip tightened, his face inches from mine.
“What the hell did you just say?”
“Are you more pissed about me screwing some random guy… or that it wasn’t you?”
Billy’s fist drew back, his knuckles trembling with restrained force. I braced myself.
But the punch never came.
Instead, his green eyes locked onto mine, wide, unblinking, and unmistakably caught off guard.
Bingo.
His voice was gravel when he finally spoke.
“Take your ass upstairs and wash that filth off you.”
I didn’t argue. I pushed off the wall, moving past him and up the stairs. But as I reached the top, I glanced back.
Billy was still standing there, hands on his hips, head bowed, like he was trying to pull himself together.
The air between us stayed heavy—thick with something we both felt but neither dared to name.
Billy was perched on the edge of my bed when I stepped out of the shower, steam trailing behind me. My towel hung low on my hips, barely holding on.
"You owe me an apology," he said, voice low, steady.
I shrugged and tossed the towel into the hamper. "An apology? For what?"
Bending over to dig through my drawer, I felt the weight of his stare before he turned his head, averting his gaze from my bare backside.
I grinned, slipping into a pair of white boxer briefs, taking my time to adjust them as I turned to face him. "You know what I think, Billy?" I said, voice dripping with something sweet and sharp. "I think you're jealous."
I crossed the room, planted a firm hand on his shoulder, and let myself sink slowly to my knees between his spread legs. His breath hitched, but he didn’t move.
My hands glided over his thick thighs, kneading gently as I traced the outline of the V in his worn shirt. My fingertips brushed against a tuft of chest hair peeking from the collar. The space between us buzzed, electric, heavy.
"You want it," I whispered, my voice velvet-soft. "But it’s eating you alive that you can’t let yourself have it."
Leaning in, I let my lips hover just over his, close enough to taste his breath. "But I’d give it to you, Billy. No one would ever have to know, Daddy."
My tongue flicked against his bottom lip, and that was all it took. His mouth crashed into mine, rough and desperate. His tongue tangled with mine, his hands gripping my shoulders hard enough to bruise.