All That Glitters Is My Stepdad.

Dominic's POV.

"You want to know what Daddy can do?" I said, voice low enough to stir the air between us.

My whore doll since I can't figure out her name arched a brow. "Save yourself the stress of talking and go down on your knees."

The corner of my mouth lifted. The audacity in that girl. "You're too young to be this wild."

"And yet not young enough to keep your body from begging for me," she fired back, half-smile, half-challenge.

The room felt smaller. My pulse was louder than the bass coming from the club below us. I reached for her wrist and turned her toward the bed. "You play with fire, you'll get burned," I murmured.

"Then light the match," she breathed.

I pushed her gently onto the sheets, a motion caught somewhere between command and care. She looked up at me like she already knew she had the upper hand. "Welcome to my honey kitty," she teased.

I couldn't help a short laugh, shaking my head as I slid my finger through her panties, gently rubbing her clit.

She bit my arms, making me shove my finger in her mouth.

"Yes, take that in." I groaned, watching her spit on my cock and caressed it.

She chuckled and whispered, "You love it, don't you?"

"Spit on that cock and stroke it like you love it, it's all yours." I commanded, and slid my cock inside her pussy..she adjusted her waist for easy penetration as I teased her with my tip.

"Tell me something," I said, still smiling. "Your mom must be an expert."

She froze...just like that, the atmosphere shifted. The tease disappeared, replaced by something raw.

"Why would you uh...call out my mom?" she asked, voice cracking.

I blinked. "Oh... sorry if I brought out a dead part."

"She's not dead," she snapped.

"Then why react that way?"

"Because it sounded weird coming from you," she said quietly.

I studied her face, the flicker of emotion that didn't belong in a night like this. I stepped closer, fingers brushing her hair back. "Don't take it personal," I said softly. "It's just words."

She looked away, then back at me, conflicted. I flipped her over and pressed a slow, careful kiss against her shoulder, not passion now but reassurance. The air buzzed again, thick, charged...but before the tension could build further, my phone started ringing.

"Damn it," I muttered. "Not now."

She caught my wrist. "Don't pick it."

"I..."

"I said don't," she insisted, eyes dark.

I held her gaze. "Someone's getting a little obsessed with Daddy," I teased, half-laugh, half-warning.

She met my stare, pupils wide, her breathing uneven. "What are you doing to me?" she whispered.

"I..." I started, but the phone rang again, louder, breaking the moment completely.

"Excuse me," I said, pulling away.

"Sure," she murmured, masking disappointment with indifference.

I grabbed the phone. "Samantha, what now?"

Her voice came through bright and excited. "Dom, don't sound so cold! We're down to one day, can you believe it? The florist just sent the mock-ups, and they're perfect. Everyone's asking how the groom's feeling."

I forced a smile into my tone. "Thrilled, obviously."

"Don't tease. I want you to sound like you mean it tomorrow, okay? You're supposed to look at me like you're already in love, remember?"

"I'll handle it," I said.

"Handle it? Dominic, this is our wedding. Try saying something sweet like 'I can't wait to see you.' "

I sighed. "I can't wait to see you, Samantha."

"Better," she laughed. "Now be sweet. Tomorrow we will become forever."

"Forever," I echoed, flat but polite.

When I hung up and turned back, My whore doll was sitting up, expression unreadable. "Sorry, baby. My fiancée called."

"Oh," she said, tone sharp. "That's... cute."

"Yeah," I said. "You need an invitation?"

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Are you serious?"

"What?"

"How do you invite someone you were fucking the night before your wedding to come watch you say 'I do'?"

"Maybe," I said, walking closer, "so you can see what you're about to miss."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not your ex or fiancee, Dominic. I shouldn't and can't be missing you."

"You wanna grab that position so bad," I said calmly.

"I never said that."

I smiled. "No, you didn't. But your eyes did. Your body too."

She tried to answer, but stumbled over her words..."How... uh... I.."

"Exactly," I said softly. "That's what I meant."

She scoffed, folding her arms. "You're unbelievable...and full of empty arrogance!"

"Thank you."

"And a manipulator."

"Coming from a woman who still refuses to take off her mask," I replied.

Her jaw tightened. "Yeah, well... it's policy."

"I could've taken it off," I said.

"Then why didn't you?"

"I promised my fiancée I wouldn't be looking at another woman," I said simply.

Her eyes widened. "I don't even understand you."

"It's called loyalty."

She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Right. Loyalty."

I reached for the pack on the table, pulled out a cigarette, and held one out. "Want some?"

She pushed it away. "No. I'm done here."

I leaned back, amused. "Finally, your pussy takes a break."

She turned sharply. "What did you just say?"

"Shut the door behind you," I said, voice low, dismissive.

She froze, anger radiating from her. "You really think you can just talk to people like that?"

"People? Or you?" I asked, meeting her eyes.

"You think this little power trip makes you untouchable?"

"Not untouchable," I said. "Just aware."

"Of what?"

"That you're still standing here arguing, have some self respect darling.." I said quietly.

Her lips parted, but before she could respond, a knock rattled the door. I smiled, tugged my shirt on, and walked toward it. She leaned against the wall, watching me, her breathing still uneven.

I stopped inches from her, close enough that she could feel my breath. "What...uh...what are you doing?" she whispered.

I lifted a finger, pressed it gently against her lips. "Get over this obsession, Cierra," I murmured. "Or it'll ruin you."

She stiffened, eyes darting up to mine. For a second, she looked small, vulnerable. I brushed her hand aside, opened the door, and stepped out.

The hallway spilled into noise and colored light. Downstairs, the club pulsed...red strobes, laughter, music that vibrated through the floor. The scent of whiskey and sweat, perfume and smoke. Crowds shifted like waves, bodies gliding, glittering, losing themselves in the night.

I moved through it, nodding at a few familiar faces until I reached the VIP corner where my friends were posted. They were mid-laugh, bottles half-empty, the usual chaos before the calm of wedding responsibility. I leaned in, lowered my voice. "Got an emergency to hit up. I'll call you boys tomorrow."

"Don't vanish on your last night of freedom," one of them shouted over the music.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I said, already heading toward the exit.

"Dad!"

I turned. My son was weaving through the crowd toward me, phone in hand. 23, tall, wearing that same grin I used to pull when I thought I was grown.

"Been calling you," he said, breathless.

"Why are you here?" I asked, half-stern.

"To meet a friend."

"You've got a friend here?"

He smirked. "Yeah. Need to tell her something before i leave the country."

I laughed. "Careful, son."

"Always, Dad." He gave me a quick hug, then jogged toward the bar.

I stepped outside to the car, cool night air biting my skin. As I opened the door, a folded photo slipped out onto the pavement. I bent down, picked it up...and froze.

My son smiling, arm around a girl with familiar eyes, familiar posture. My gut twisted. She looked too damn much like someone I should know.

I let out a low whistle. "My son sure knows how to pull a real baddie," I muttered, half-proud, half-uneasy.

"Hot kid!" I called. He turned. "You forgot this."

He jogged over, took the photo, grinning. "Appreciate it, Dad."

"Your eye's sharp as hell, kid. That baddie you pulled...man, damn. so much like your daddy haha. "

He laughed. "Don't start, Dad."

Then a voice cut through the noise.

"George! Why are you here?"

The sound froze me. we turned toward it, every muscle locking.