LOGINLexie’s phone buzzed again. James’s message glowed on the screen: “Your dad is back. Dinner downstairs instead?” Her stomach twisted. She swallowed hard and typed back quickly: “I’ll be down.”
The walk to the dining room felt heavier than it should, her body still remembering the heat of that afternoon. Lexie saw her dad in the kitchen. He was holding a hot, steamy tray of chicken. “Hey, Daddy,” Lexie said softly, her hands folded behind her back timidly. “Hi, baby.” The moment he saw her, Mr. Moore flashed her a smile and waved her toward the dining chair. “You didn’t inform me you were coming. Is everything okay?” Mr. Moore asked, his brows knitting in concern. “Everything is fine, Dad,” Lexie said as she dropped into her seat. She sighed softly and looked away. Mr. Moore was a single father. Lexie’s mother had died during childbirth, and since then, he had raised her alone. Whenever Lexie asked him why he didn’t remarry, he told her he didn’t want his only child to fight for his time and attention. Basically, Lexie was his only family. And of course, there was Mr. James, who had gone abroad to further his education, leaving his seven-year-old daughter Kira with Lexie and Mr. Moore. Kira’s mother had disappeared right after giving birth, which also made Mr. James a single father. They were more like a big family. But after the intimacy that had happened between the two of them, Lexie worried she had betrayed that family bond. “You don’t look well, Lexie,” Mr. Moore said, his face tightening with worry. He shifted his seat closer and placed his hand on her forehead to check her temperature. “I’m fine, Dad. Just stressed,” she admitted. Lexie’s eyes were stuck on the chicken tray like she had never seen chicken before. She couldn’t bring herself to look into her father’s eyes—guilt chewed at her. “Maybe she’s allergic to having me around,” James’s deep voice rang out from the kitchen as he approached. Mr. Moore let out a soft chuckle and leaned back in his seat. He took a drumstick and placed it on his daughter’s plate. “Do you know James booked a hotel?” Mr. Moore said, his brows furrowed. “Oh, c’mon, Moore, you can’t go around reporting me to everyone. I’m here now, ain’t I?” James said as he took a seat across from Lexie. “Right, Lexie?” he asked with a wide grin. Lexie, who had kept her eyes glued to the table, glanced toward James and nodded. Her cheeks flushed red as she stared. He wore a tight white shirt that hugged his muscles, his toned abs clearly visible. Lexie’s eyes scanned him, and her heart skipped a beat when she found herself searching for a visible bulge in his short brown pants. She wondered how good it would taste to take his dick in her mouth and suck it. Lexie swallowed hard and licked her lips. “Lexie?” Her father’s deep voice cut into her deranged thoughts. She jolted upright when she felt his hand on her shoulder. His worried face shifted to surprise. “Uhmm…I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Are you sure you’re okay?” her father asked again. “Yes, I’m just tired. I’ll be in my room.” Lexie turned on her heels. “Goodnight, Daddy.” She hurried to her room, leaving the two friends shocked and perplexed. Once inside, she shut the door softly and pressed her back against it, exhaling shakily. Her body remembered James’s hands, his mouth, the weight of him pressing her against the wall in the hallway, sending heat low between her thighs. She could still feel the wetness in her panties, and more arousal kept spilling. She had run off because she was scared her father would notice her lingering stares at James. God! She ran her hands through her hair. How was she supposed to stay another day here with James around? She couldn’t even keep her eyes off him with her dad sitting right there. Oh my goodness, Lexie mumbled to herself. Has he always been this hot and attractive, or is this because of Kira? Right now, Lexie was unsure of how she felt. She had thought maybe her body wanted James as revenge on Kira, that things had just happened that way. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t her reason. She was simply attracted to him. But since when? His hands were so huge. The way he had held her waist, the way he had spanked her ass—it was so pleasurable. God, how was he so good? Lexie’s hands gripped her bra as her thoughts went wild. She imagined being on a beach with James, his tongue between her legs, sucking and flicking her clit while his hands teased her nipples. A soft moan escaped her lips. It felt so real, so sweet, she thought she might come just from the fantasy. Then the bed dipped. Her eyes flew open in shock and fear. “Mr. James…” He shut her mouth with his, his tongue plunging inside. Lexie was too aroused to refuse him. Her body seemed to recognize him, syncing naturally with his as she kissed him back. James’s hands moved swiftly to her bra. With a gentle flick, he undid it. Her round, milky breasts spilled bare. Breaking the kiss, he immediately circled his tongue around her nipple. Lexie watched with her mouth wide open. The feeling was so intense, so surreal, she thought she might come just from having James suck on her nipples. She let out a satisfied sigh mixed with a moan. James moved his other hand to her other breast, twisting her nipple while sucking on the second one. His free hand slid toward her skirt, brushing her skin sensually. Lexie licked her lips and groaned, his touches lighting even more fire inside her. His fingers reached her panties. She lifted her hips, thinking he would take them off, but instead, he just shifted them aside enough to slip his fingers in. When he felt her wetness, he chuckled softly, his mouth still on her nipple. “You naughty girl. Have you been thinking about Daddy while touching yourself?” Lexie looked away, her face burning with shame. “So you’re playing stubborn?” James’s brows furrowed, his voice edged with irritation. He plunged two fingers roughly into her pussy. Lexie gasped loudly. “Answer me,” James demanded, his deep voice dangerous, his fingers pumping in and out of her at the speed of a treadmill. “Yes..I was thinking about you,” she moaned breathlessly. Lexie clenched her teeth and curled her toes, hissing softly. She knew he was punishing her for ignoring him, and she held back from moaning too loud, terrified her father would hear. James could feel how close she was. He quickened his pace. Lexie’s body convulsed, her toes curling as hot cum spurted from her pussy, dripping down James’s hand. He left her breasts, now sore from his rough sucking and nibbling. Still holding her panties aside, he pressed his hot mouth to her pussy and licked up her release. “You taste so marvelously, my not so little peach.” He said licking the remnant of her release on his fingers like he had just had the sweetest meal ever. When he was done, his eyes locked on Lexie’s blue ones. She looked spent, sweaty, and undone. James opened his mouth to say something, but quickly moved behind the door as a heavy knock sounded. “Lexie, are you in?” her father’s voice boomed.The smell of his cologne musky, expensive, and intoxicating filled her senses. Maya looked up into his eyes, seeing the raw desire burning there, and something in her snapped. Chloe was thousands of miles away, and Maya was tired of being good.She reached up, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, and pulled him down into a kiss.It wasn't a gentle kiss. Leo groaned, a low sound in his throat, and immediately took control. He was aggressive, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, claiming her with a hunger that matched her own. He backed her against the large, study table, pushing her until she had to sit on the edge to keep her balance."Maya," he rasped against her lips, pulling back just enough to look at her. "You have no idea what you're starting.""Then show me," she challenged, breathless.Leo didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed the hem of her dress and pushed it up, his hands sliding over her thighs, making her skin prickle with heat. He didn't bother with the zipper
The driveway of the Sterling estate was a mile long, flanked by tall trees that seemed to be watching Maya’s car as she navigated the gravel. It was supposed to be a relaxing week away from the city, a chance to relax at her best friend Chloe’s family home while Chloe finalized a huge merger in Dubai. “Don't worry, Maya!” Chloe had chirped over the crackling international line. “My brothers are there. They’ll take care of you. Just... don't let Julian intimidate you, and definitely don't let Leo talk you into anything illegal.” Maya parked her car, taking a deep breath of the country air. She had known the Sterling brothers for years, but only in passing, at weddings or chaotic holiday parties. They were just "Chloe’s older brothers” a monolithic entity of wealth and good looks. Until now. She stepped out of the car, and the heavy iron door of the manor swung open. Julian stood there. The eldest. He looked less like a corporate executive and more like a Greek god in a tailored su
Martins lay in his bed, his skin feeling three sizes too small for his muscles. He knew his mother had retired an hour ago, he’d heard her door click shut and the plumbing groan as she brushed her teeth. He waited until he was certain. Then, he stood. He didn't put on a shirt—he wanted Helena to feel every inch of the heat he was carrying. He slipped into the guest room, locking the door behind him with a silent, predatory click. Helena was sitting up in bed, the moonlight catching the silver sheen of her silk slip. Her chest was heaving, her nipples peaking against the thin fabric. "Martins," she breathed, her voice a mix of terror and hunger. "You’re going to get us caught." "Then stay quiet," he rasped, lunging onto the bed. He didn't start with a kiss. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head against the headboard. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and dilated. "You were so bold under the table at dinner, Helena. Where’s that energy now?" "I... I was just—" She
The dining room smelled of roasted chicken and rosemary, a "welcome home" feast that felt like a mockery after what had just happened in the upstairs bathroom. Martins sat across from Helena, his damp hair slicked back, wearing a fresh black t-shirt that stretched tight across his chest. Every time he shifted, he could still feel the sensation of her touch. Helena, meanwhile, looked like a saint. She had changed into a modest, floral dress, her skin glowing from the shower. Only the slight tremor in her hands as she lifted her wine glass betrayed her. "I was just telling Helena," Sarah said, piling mashed potatoes onto Martins’ plate, "about that summer you two spent at the lake. You were ten, Martins. You followed her around like a little puppy dog. Do you remember?" Martins took a slow sip of his water, his eyes locking onto Helena’s over the rim of the glass. "I remember," he said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register. "I remember everything about Helena."
The guest bathroom was a sensory trap. Martins stood outside the door, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Through the wood, he heard the spray of the shower and the faint, melodic noise of Helena dipping her head under the spray. The scent of her jasmine soap was everywhere thick, floral, and cloyingly sweet. He couldn't help himself. He grabbed a stack of plush, white towels from the linen closet as a flimsy excuse and pushed the door open. The room was a white-out of heavy steam. It clung to his skin, dampening his shirt instantly. Through the frosted glass of the shower stall, Helena was a blurred, golden silhouette. He watched the shadow of her hands slide over the curve of her hips, lathering her skin, and his throat went bone-dry. "Sarah?" her voice drifted out, muffled and relaxed. "Is that you? I think I left my robe on the bed." Martins didn't move. He let his gaze linger on the steam-slicked glass. "It’s not Sarah," he said, his voice dropping into a
The summer heat in the house was already stifling, but the moment Martins heard the gravel crunch in the driveway, the air seemed to disappear.He had been upstairs in the home gym, finishing a final set of deadlifts. His skin was slick with sweat, and his muscles burned. He knew his mother’s best friend was arriving today, but in his mind, Helena was still the woman from his childhood, the one who laughed at his scraped knees and brought him imported chocolates.He stepped out of the gym, pulled off his soaked T-shirt, and tossed it onto the hallway floor. He didn’t bother putting on a new one. It was his house.The heavy front door groaned open.“Helena! Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” his mother, Sarah, called from the porch. Her voice faded as she turned back to the car. “Go on in and make yourself at home! I’ll be right there!”Martins froze at the top of the stairs.A woman stepped into the cool, dim light of the foyer.This wasn’t the “Auntie” he remembered.Her dark, glossy hair







