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CHAPTER 42 — THE PROPOSAL (TWISTED STYLE)

Author: Marcy E. 💗
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-08-29 16:13:25

Ivy’s POV

I know something’s up the second Alexander leans against the doorframe, arms folded, eyes burning into me like he already has me naked and begging.

“Put on something pretty,” he says, voice rich and smooth with that edge that makes my stomach flutter. “And get your ass downstairs.”

That gleam in his eyes—dark, dangerous, utterly unholy—slides down my spine like a slow lick. He’s up to something. Something wicked.

I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms just to show him I’m not impressed, even though my insides are doing somersaults. “What’s the occasion?”

“You’ll see,” he replies with a smirk that should be illegal. The kind that promises sin and chaos. The kind of smirk that ends with me wrecked and clawing at his sheets.

God help me, my thighs clench already.

“You’re so dramatic sometimes,” I mutter, playing it cool, heading for the closet even though I’m already picking the tightest, shortest, filthiest little black dress I own.

Behind me, I hear him chuckle—low, smug, cocky.
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  • STEP-DADDY'S SIN    CHAPTER 42 — THE PROPOSAL (TWISTED STYLE)

    Ivy’s POVI know something’s up the second Alexander leans against the doorframe, arms folded, eyes burning into me like he already has me naked and begging.“Put on something pretty,” he says, voice rich and smooth with that edge that makes my stomach flutter. “And get your ass downstairs.”That gleam in his eyes—dark, dangerous, utterly unholy—slides down my spine like a slow lick. He’s up to something. Something wicked.I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms just to show him I’m not impressed, even though my insides are doing somersaults. “What’s the occasion?”“You’ll see,” he replies with a smirk that should be illegal. The kind that promises sin and chaos. The kind of smirk that ends with me wrecked and clawing at his sheets.God help me, my thighs clench already.“You’re so dramatic sometimes,” I mutter, playing it cool, heading for the closet even though I’m already picking the tightest, shortest, filthiest little black dress I own.Behind me, I hear him chuckle—low, smug, cocky.

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