MasukThe deadline email sat open on my laptop screen for the third time that morning. Following up on those revisions — deadline's Friday. Five days, Violet. I need something better than the draft you sent.I closed it. Opened it again. Closed it.At lunch, Dane's table was doing what it always did his friends laughing too loud, a couple of girls leaning in close, him leaned back like he owned the cafeteria. I walked up anyway."Can I talk to you?"He looked up, and his expression shifted into something performative. "Vee. Didn't know you knew where this table was."A couple of his friends laughed. One of the girls raised an eyebrow."Forget it." I turned and walked, fast, face burning."Vee — hold on." Chair legs scraped behind me. He caught up in the hallway, and by the time he fell into step beside me, the performance was gone."That wasn't fair," I said. "You do that every time.""Habit." He shrugged. "What'd you need?""Nothing. I said forget it.""You walked up to my table in front o
"Ugh — no. No, no, no." I shoved my laptop away from me on the bed like it had personally wronged me. "This is garbage."Three hours. Three hours staring at the same paragraph, deleting it, rewriting it, deleting it again, and it still read like a technical manual instead of a scene anyone was supposed to feel something from.Nobody knew this was me. Not Xavi, not my parents, not a single person in my actual life had any idea that the girl who couldn't get through health class without turning red was quietly ghostwriting some of the most requested erotica on three different platforms under a name that wasn't mine. It was supposed to be my secret talent. My thing. The one place I was good at something without anyone watching.Except lately I wasn't good at it. Every scene came out flat, embarrassing — and my editor had already sent back two chapters with the same brutal note: this doesn't feel real.She was right. That was the worst part. She was completely right, and I had no idea how
“Olivia I would be leaving to get grocery “ she was already walking through the door.“ okay mum don’t stay out late” I wished she would.I waited exactly four minutes, then walked to his office and locked the door.Daniel looked up from his laptop. His eyes moved over me slow. I was still in the same dress from earlier. No bra. No panties. He noticed.“Olivia.”I didn’t answer. I walked around the desk, pushed his chair back, and sat on the edge of the desk right in front of him. I spread my legs.He stared straight at my bare pussy.“You’ve been walking around like this?”“Yes.”I reached down and touched myself. Slow circles on my clit. His jaw tightened. I slid two fingers inside and let him hear how wet I already was.“Fuck,” he said under his breath.I kept going. Touching myself while he watched. My hips started moving. Soft wet sounds filled the quiet office. His hands gripped the arms of the chair hard.“You want this?” I asked, voice low.He didn’t speak. Just stared.I pulle
I could still feel his voice in my ear the entire walk there.Did I not satisfy you?The words wouldn’t leave. They sat low in my stomach, warm and wrong, pulsing in time with every step. My shorts were still damp from the drive. Every time my thighs brushed together I felt the reminder of how soaked I’d gotten on his lap, how his cock had twitched under me like it knew exactly what it was doing to me.The girls were already loud when I reached the car. Music spilling out the open windows, somebody’s phone flashlight cutting through the dark. Mia spotted me first and screamed.“There she is! New-house bitch, get in here!”I climbed into the back seat between her and Jordyn. The second the door shut, a bottle was pushed into my hands. Something sweet and strong. I drank because it was easier than talking. Because if I opened my mouth I was scared Daniel’s voice would come out of it.We drove around with no real plan—windows down, music up, the three of us yelling half the lyrics. Someb
“Jesus, there’s nowhere to sit,” I muttered, staring at the mountain of boxes.Mom laughed from the driver’s seat. “Just sit on Daniel’s lap, baby. It’s only a few hours. We’ll be home before you know it.”Daniel—my brand-new stepfather—patted his thigh without looking at me. “Come on. I don’t bite.”He’s my stepdad, I told myself, climbing over the boxes toward him. It’s fine. It’s just a car seat.He didn’t look old enough to be anyone’s stepdad. Sharp jaw, easy shoulders, nothing fatherly about him at all. That was half the problem.The second my weight settled onto his lap, I felt him under me. Warm. Already stirring beneath the denim.I froze.Mom kept talking, oblivious, something about paint colors and the kitchen island. Daniel let his head fall back against the seat, eyes closed, breathing slow and even like he’d already drifted off. I told myself that was a relief. It wasn’t.Because underneath that stillness, every few minutes, a low sound would slip out of him — quiet, alm
I didn’t knock. There was no need anymore — not after the storage room, not after everything the door between us had already stopped meaning.I walked into Daniel’s small room behind the church, locked the door, and let the habit drop to the floor.He was sitting up on the narrow bed, still in the thin undershirt he wore at night, and the second he saw me his whole body changed — like a man who’d spent the day rehearsing patience he didn’t actually have.“Claire—”“Quiet.” I crossed the room and climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs. I pressed my palms flat against his chest, over the worn cotton, feeling his heart slam underneath it. “Last night you took what you wanted. Tonight is mine.”He didn’t fight it. His hands came up to my waist, steady now in a way they hadn’t been three nights ago — like the boy from that first evening had actually stayed gone.“I’ve thought about nothing else all day,” he said. “Every prayer. Every hour cleaning that floor. Just you.”“Good.” I fist







