LOGINMy dad was coming home today with two women.One of them was already my stepmother, technically. He’d married her in Spain two months ago, some quiet ceremony on a beach I never got invited to. Now she was moving in for good, bags and all.My dad is forty-five, but the accident eight years ago took a lot out of him. Shattered pelvis, nerve damage, the works. Doctors were blunt in advising him, no more sex, or he risks a heart event. He accepted it, said he was done chasing that part of life. What he needed, he told me, was someone to look after him, cook proper meals, handle the meds, keep the house running. I can’t do it forever. I’ve got the company to run now that I’m out of college, twenty-two and already sitting in boardrooms he built from nothing.So Elena.Twenty-eight. A graduated nurse. Dad met her when she was assigned to his rehab after a minor flare up last year. She’s moving in to take care of h
I woke up aching.Not the sweet, satisfied ache from yesterday. This was sharp, urgent, the kind that started between my legs and spread like wildfire.I’d dreamed about him, Elias, his hands, his mouth, the way he’d looked at me when I swallowed him last night. I woke up wet, nipples hard, thighs pressed together under the covers.Downstairs, the house was already alive. I could hear voices, Mia laughing, her mom directing traffic, the rustle of decorations and the clink of a coffee mug.Through the cracked door I caught glimpses, Mia on a ladder stringing garland, Mrs. Harlan arranging poinsettias on the mantel, Elias lifting boxes of ornaments, sleeves rolled up, back muscles shifting under his thermal shirt.My stomach flipped.Mrs. Harlan’s voice floated up the stairs. “Is Sadie still sleeping? It’s almost nine!”“Probably exhausted from all the cookie decorating,” Mia called back, teasing.
He pulled me up from my knees, hands gentle now, cupping my face as he kissed me slow and deep, one last taste before the spell broke. I was still trembling, body humming, but he held me steady until my breathing evened out.“Come on,” he murmured against my lips. “We can’t stay down here forever.”I nodded, reality creeping back in. Mia could come home any minute. The house was too quiet.He helped me find my shorts and T-shirt, handed them to me with a small, almost shy smile that didn’t match the man who’d just wrecked me. I pulled them on, fingers clumsy. He tucked himself away, ran a hand through his hair, and suddenly looked like Professor Harlan again.Almost.We climbed the stairs together, careful not to let the steps creak too loud. At the top, he paused, glanced toward the front door like he was listening for Mia’s car.“She won’t be back for hours,” he said quietly. “But we should… keep busy.”
He didn’t wait for me to say yes.His hand slid from between my legs up to my neck, fingers curling gently but firmly around my throat,not squeezing, just holding, claiming. He backed me up until my thighs hit the edge of the pool table, then lifted me easily so I was sitting on the felt, legs spread around his hips.“Look at me,” he said, voice low and rough.I did.His eyes were dark, intense, like he was seeing straight through every lie I’d ever told myself about wanting to stop.“You came down here,” he said, thumb stroking my pulse point. “You’re dripping through your shorts because you want this. So don’t lie to me, or to yourself.”I swallowed hard, feeling the truth of it in every cell.His other hand moved back between my legs, rubbing harder now, the friction making me gasp.“Say it,” he commanded.“I want it,” I whispered. “I want you.”He smiled slowly, dangerously.
I woke up in Mia’s bed with sunlight sneaking through the blinds and the smell of coffee drifting upstairs. My body felt… used. Deliciously sore in places I’d never been sore before. Every shift of the sheets reminded me of Elias’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d taken me apart in his office.I stared at the ceiling, heart racing all over again.Mia was still asleep beside me, one arm flung over her face, snoring softly. I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, grabbed my phone, and padded to the bathroom.No new texts from him. Of course not. He was downstairs. In the same house.I brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my face, tried to look like a normal houseguest and not a girl who’d been screaming her best friend’s dad’s name twelve hours ago.When I finally went downstairs, Mrs. Harlan was at the stove flipping pancakes, humming along to the radio. Mia’s little brother was already parked in front of the TV watching cartoons.And Elias was at the kitchen island, sipping cof
I slipped out of Elias’s arms while he was still catching his breath, my legs shaky and my whole body buzzing. The office smelled like us, sex and sweat and the faint trace of his cologne. I grabbed my ripped crop top from the floor, holding it against my chest like it could hide anything, and mumbled something about needing to clean up.His private bathroom was just off the office, small, tiled, mercifully stocked with a clean towel and soap. I locked the door behind me and stared at my reflection under the harsh fluorescent light.My hair was a wild mess, lips swollen, neck dotted with faint red marks. My nipples were still hard, skin flushed. I looked exactly like what I was, a girl who’d just been thoroughly fucked by her professor.I turned on the cold water and splashed my face, then did my best to clean up between my legs with damp paper towels. My skirt was wrinkled but intact. The crop top was ruined, one strap torn but I tied it in a knot under my breasts and hoped it lo







