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My Best Friend's Father Is My Second Chance Mate {002}
Last Updated:
2025-12-31 00:56:25
Latest chapter
The Other Father (Steamy Short Story Collection) My Best Friend's Father Is My Second Chance Mate {004}
Madeline’s POVI’m almost losing it. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, hot and insistent, as I feel a strange force wrap around me. It pulls me from the cold, ceramic emptiness of the bathtub after hours of just lying there, wasting away. It’s a violent, gentle tug back into my body, a feeling like the life that had drained out of me is being forced back in, molecule by molecule. The memory of how Lucas Grey saved me that night is a jagged scar on my mind. From what I learned meeting him a month ago, he was part of some Elite division, a werewolf hunter. And Gabrielle… her name was actually Lucinda. A wanted criminal he’s been tracking for years. I’ve been working with him since that night in the alley, telling him everything I knew, doing everything I could to find a thread that led back to my son. And now, the answer is standing in front of me.I adjust the tight red dress, my fingers fumbling over the fabric. I’ve rehearsed the lines in my head a hundred times. Just need an exam
The Other Father (Steamy Short Story Collection) My Best Friend's Father Is My Second Chance Mate {003}
Madeline Pov I never told a soul about what happened. A week later, Jane seemed lighter, chatting about her father's sudden business trip to Zurich, while I tried desperately to get my life together. I buried myself in studying and focusing on my photography, dreaming of the day it could get me out of this city and far away from him. I started picking up more freelance jobs. My aunt could only afford my tuition, and he had been paying my monthly allowance. I worked twice as hard to make sure I didn't need that anymore, to sever that last thin tie. Then, two weeks later, I got sick. It started with a constant, rolling nausea and a dizzy fatigue that led me straight to the school clinic. That was where I found out, with absolute clarity, that he had lied. "Miss Fenwick, the results are back," the nurse said, her tone professionally gentle. "You're approximately three weeks pregnant." For a moment, it was like she was speaking a foreign language. The air in the small office grew thic
The Other Father (Steamy Short Story Collection) My Best Friend's Father Is My Second Chance Mate {002}
Madeline's POV He’s kissing me, and it’s nothing like the sloppy, beer-tasting kisses I’ve had at frat parties. This is different. His mouth is firm and sure, and the intensity of it makes my head spin. It’s better than anything I’d imagined, and my heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. He pauses, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and serious. Then he helps me out of the car, his hand a steadying force on my elbow. He holds my hand firmly as he leads me up the walkway to his house. The air between us is thick, tense, like a pot about to boil over. If we don’t do something about this now, I think I might actually shatter. He doesn’t say a word, just leads me through the quiet, darkened living room and down a hall to his bedroom. His eyes never leave mine, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he looks away. I still can’t believe this is happening. Solomon Priest. My best friend’s father. The man I’ve been secretly fixated on for what feels like forev
The Other Father (Steamy Short Story Collection) My Best Friend's Father Is My Second Chance Mate {001}
Madeline's Pov I’ve always had a crush on my friend’s father. That sounds crazy. Like something you’d whisper to your diary, terrified someone might hear. But it’s true. I’m twenty-one, a junior in college. He’s forty-seven. I’ve known him my entire life. After my parents died and I moved in with my aunt, he stepped in. He was the one who showed up to my middle school science fair when my aunt had to work. He taught me how to drive a stick shift in an empty parking lot on a rainy Sunday. He’s been a steady, solid presence. A father figure. But by the time I was thirteen, having playdates with his daughter Jane, I wasn’t writing about boys my age in my notebook. I was writing love letters to him. Fantasies about a future where I was older, wiser, and finally worthy of his attention. As I got older, the fantasies didn’t fade. They got sharper. More intimate. More… specific. I read romance novels and decided the first step to getting his attention was to make him see me as some
The Other Father (Steamy Short Story Collection) Bonus Story: Fixing Up My Neglectful Husband {02}
He does. He kisses me again, and this time it’s a promise. We keep kissing as our hands begin to move, fumbling with buttons and zippers. My fingers work on the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders. He makes a low sound of approval as I run my palms over his chest, marveling at the feel of him. He’s still so fit, so solid. Time has been good to him, adding a layer of authority to his handsomeness that only makes my stomach flutter more.He helps me out of my cardigan, then his hands go to the simple wrap dress I’m wearing. He finds the tie at my waist and undoes it with a gentle tug. The dress falls open. He pushes it off my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet. Then, his fingers hook into the sides of my plain cotton underwear. He looks into my eyes, a question in his, and at my slight nod, he draws them down my legs. I step out of them, standing bare before him in the cool, clinical air of his office."You’re so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick. H
The Other Father (Steamy Short Story Collection) Bonus Story: Fixing Up My Neglectful Husband {01}
I haven’t seen my husband in months.I shove things into the hospital bag—sweatpants, a clean t-shirt, his toothbrush—his text was specific. I kiss the kids goodbye in a rush, their little faces blurry in my hurry, and leave them with the sitter.Our sex life had turned into a desert. Dry, empty, a chore neither of us wanted to do. I’m the one who finally said the word: separation. Because sex does matter. Anyone who says it doesn’t is lying or lucky. Since our third baby, Anna, the passion didn’t just fade; it packed its bags and left without a forwarding address. It’s been three months of silence between us, broken only by him showing up to take the kids to the park so I could have a few hours to remember who I was. I was starting to accept the idea of a life without that kind of touch. I’d even joined a ‘holy and wholesome living’ group at church. I wasn’t going to masturbate. The thought felt sad and desperate, a poor imitation of the real thing. I’m not cheating. I know he isn’
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