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หน้าหลัก / Romance / SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER / Chapter 17

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Chapter 17

ผู้เขียน: Billie Patsy
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2025-12-09 21:28:24

I woke in my own bed, sheets cool against my skin, morning light slicing through the half-open curtains. For a moment I couldn’t remember how I got there. The last thing burned into my mind was the glow of the laptop, Cassian’s fingers inside me, the video of us looping in my head while I came apart on his lap. After that, nothing. He must have carried me upstairs, tucked me in like I was something precious. The thought made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t ready to name.

I pushed the covers back and padded to the window. The storm had finally broken. The world outside was blinding white, every branch heavy with fresh snow, the lake a sheet of glass under the weak winter sun. Cassian stood on the porch in a black parka, phone to his ear, pacing slow lines through the powder. His voice was too low to make out words, but the set of his shoulders told me it was business.

I pulled on one of his soft henley shirts and a pair of leggings, then headed downstairs, needing coffee, needing routi
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  • SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER   Chapter 42

    The drive home from the exhibition was quiet at first, the city lights blurring past the windows in streaks of gold and red. Cassian drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh, thumb tracing slow, absent circles that kept my skin humming. I stared at his profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the way the streetlights caught the silver at his temples—and felt the words building in my throat like a storm I couldn’t hold back any longer. I had to say it. Before I lost my nerve. “I want to be yours,” I blurted, voice barely above the engine’s hum. His head turned sharply, eyes leaving the road for a second to search my face. “Say that again.” I swallowed, cheeks burning. “I want to be your model. Like you offered. Like… like the others. But just for you. No one else.” He was quiet so long I thought he hadn’t heard me. Then his hand tightened on my thigh, possessive and warm. “Why now?” he asked, voice low, careful. “Because I’m tired of lying to myself,” I admitt

  • SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER   Chapter 41

    A week later, I found myself in the back of Cassian’s car, heading to an exhibition he’d invited me to with a single text: Come with me tonight. Trust me.I should have said no.I said yes.The gallery was in a converted warehouse in the arts district, all exposed brick and industrial lighting. The invitation had called it “Intimate Perspectives,” but nothing prepared me for how intimate it really was. The moment we stepped inside, the air felt thicker, charged. The walls were covered in massive prints—bodies tangled in silk sheets, ropes biting into skin, close-ups of lips parted in ecstasy, hands gripping thighs hard enough to bruise. Some were abstract enough to be art, others so explicit I felt my cheeks burn.And the place was packed.People in elegant black dresses and tailored suits sipped champagne, discussing composition and lighting like it was a regular Tuesday. No one batted an eye at a photograph of a woman bound and blindfolded, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.

  • SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER   Chapter 40

    I shouldn’t have waited for him that night.After refusing his dinner invitation, I told myself it was over. No reply meant he’d finally gotten the message. I’d go to work, finish my shift, go home, and start rebuilding the walls he kept tearing down.But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself.I kept checking my phone between reshelving books, heart jumping every time the screen lit up—only to sink when it was just a notification from an app or a text from Jonas asking if I wanted to split delivery after work.Nothing from Cassian.By ten o’clock, the library was winding down. Most of the late-night studiers had packed up, leaving only a handful of people scattered on the lower floors. The third floor was nearly empty, just the soft hum of the ventilation and the occasional creak of old wood.I pushed the cart to the end of the hallway, the furthest aisle, where the oversized art books lived. It was the quietest spot in the building—tall shelves blocking the view from the main area,

  • SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER   Chapter 39

    I woke up alone, the sheets twisted around my legs like they were trying to keep me in the dream a little longer. My body felt heavy, every muscle reminding me of last night with little twinges of soreness—the kind that made me bite my lip and smile despite myself. Between my legs, I was tender from being stretched and filled, my breasts still sensitive from his mouth and hands, and my inner thighs ached from where his fingers had gripped me tight enough to leave faint bruises. For a moment, I lay there thinking it had all been another one of those intense dreams that left me waking up flushed and reaching for the shower to wash away the guilt. But then I shifted, and the ache was too real, too delicious to be imagined.I was naked under the covers, my pajamas from last night scattered across the floor like they had been ripped off in a hurry—which they had. And there, on the nightstand, was the undeniable proof: a tray with a steaming mug of coffee, a plate of scrambled eggs wit

  • SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER   Chapter 38

    I woke up gasping, sheets twisted around my legs, skin slick with sweat.It wasn’t a nightmare this time.It was one of those dreams—the kind that left me throbbing and ashamed. Cassian’s hands pinning mine above my head, his mouth hot on my throat, his body moving inside me with that slow, deliberate rhythm that always unraveled me completely. I could still feel the phantom weight of him, the stretch, the way he whispered little girl right before I fell apart.I sat up, chest heaving, and reached for the glass of water on my nightstand. The clock glowed 2:37 a.m. The apartment was silent except for my ragged breathing.Then my phone buzzed.Unknown number.I knew who it was before I even picked up.He always used different numbers. Blocked one, another appeared. Like he had an endless supply and all the time in the world.Usually I ignored it. Blocked and deleted and pretended I didn’t care.But tonight my hand moved without permission. I swiped to answer before the rational part of

  • SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER   Chapter 37

    A week crawled by in a haze of exhaustion and denial. I barely slept, my nights a mess of tossing and turning, haunted by dreams I couldn’t shake. Every time I closed my eyes, Cassian was there—his hands on my skin, his voice in my ear, his body moving against mine in ways that left me waking up sweaty and ashamed. I’d stare at the ceiling until dawn, telling myself it was over, that he was gone, that I was safe. But the dark circles under my eyes told a different story.That morning, I dragged myself to the library for my shift, feeling like a zombie in jeans and a hoodie. The January cold had settled in deep, the kind that seeps into your bones and stays there. I clocked in, grabbed the reshelving cart, and headed to the third floor, hoping the quiet would numb my brain for a few hours.Jonas was already up there, sorting through a pile of returns. He looked up when I rolled in, and his easy smile faded the second he saw my face.“Whoa, Ivy. You look like you haven’t slept in a week

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