Eden leaned against the back of the Student Council garden room, legs stretched out, arms folded. The room was empty except for the hum of the ceiling fan and the faint scent of disinfectant. But his mind wasn’t here.He was waiting. For her.The hard throb between his thighs was already forming, thick with memory. A memory he hadn’t told a single soul. A memory that played on loop in his head so vividly, he could nearly taste it.Two weeks ago. Late. The campus library was supposed to be closed.He had come back for his phone, forgotten on the student council table during a late-night prep for the charity gala.As he passed through the darkened hallway, a sound caught his attention.A gasp.Not just any gasp…soft, breathy, desperate. And it came from one of the private study rooms at the far end.Curious, he slowed his pace.The door was cracked. Just slightly.He should’ve walked away. Should’ve minded his business. But something about that sound hooked into him, deep and low.He pe
Leah"Eden... oh God..."She whimpered under the covers, her thighs pressed tightly together, toes curled as another rush of heat spread through her belly. The early morning sun bled lazily through the curtains of her tiny dorm room, but Leah Valley was too deep in her dream to notice.In the dream, she was sprawled out over Eden Prescott’s student council desk, her sweater ripped halfway open, his mouth at her chest, his voice dark and gravelly as he growled her name like a secret. She had on her knee-high socks and nothing else. His fingers were between her legs, stroking her until she writhed.Her hips lifted off the bed as she rubbed herself through her panties, gasping quietly into her pillow. "I need you... Eden..."This was the third time that week. Maybe fourth. She'd lost count. Leah tried not to think about it during the day, about how embarrassingly obsessed she was with the school president, how often her fingers found her heat in the dark just thinking about his hands, hi
"You really thought you could run from me?"Chantel's voice was silk over steel, mocking and terrifying in equal measure.Dorya winced as she was dragged back into the dimly lit cabin, her knees scraping across the rough wooden floor. Her wrists were raw where the ropes had bit into them, her breath shuddering from exhaustion and terror. Leaves clung to her hair, and her cheeks were streaked with sweat and tears.Chantel didn’t even pause to breathe before the flat crack of her palm collided with Dorya’s cheek."You were going to leave me," she hissed. "Again."Dorya’s head whipped to the side from the force, her jaw trembling as she forced herself not to cry. Not again. Not in front of her.Lorna shut the door behind them, laughing lightly as though it were all some game. “She’s fast, I’ll give her that,” she said, panting from the chase.Chantel ignored her. She crouched beside Dorya, her fingers gripping her chin, forcing her gaze upward. “You think I’d let you go? That I’d just fo
"She wouldn't run off without saying goodbye Mr Calhoun" Tamryn said, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stood in the doorway of her home. "And definitely not with everything that happened."Christophe Calhoun..Dorya's father…ran a hand through his hair, frustration and fear eating at him from the inside. "She hasn't answered her phone in over twelve hours. She’s not at school, she’s not at the house, and I drove all the way to the park she likes. Nothing."Tamryn looked at him, her brows pinched. She hesitated, then asked, "Have you checked with... Chantel?"Christophe's jaw clenched. "Chantel said she left before Dorya was even awake. She’s on a trip out of town."Tamryn inhaled sharply, debating. Then she stepped back to let him in. "There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I didn’t know if it was my place, but... the day I came over…when I saw Dorya in the kitchen…Chantel had her pressed against the counter. Her face was buried between Dorya’s thighs."Christ
"You know, if you had a son instead of a daughter, you'd be divorced by now. That woman would’ve seduced him within the month."Aunt Marie’s voice sliced through the dimly lit dining room like a serrated knife. Her judgmental tone coated the air, and the room fell quiet.Dorya’s fork froze midair. She blinked, hard. The roast chicken on her plate blurred as her stomach coiled into a knot. Chantel, seated across from her, didn’t flinch. She chuckled…soft, amused, practiced.“Oh, Marie, always the dramatist,” she said smoothly, sipping her wine. “I’m not that irresistible.”Marie scoffed. “You’re dressed like temptation incarnate. Silk robe, no bra…at dinner? Lord have mercy.”Dorya could feel the heat creeping up her neck. If only Aunt Marie knew. If only they all knew. That the seduction had already happened. That she’d tasted her stepmother’s lips. Moaned under her fingers. Let her body be consumed while guilt gnawed at her bones.Chantel’s gaze slid across the table and lingered on
"You didn’t even touch your toast."Dorya stared blankly at the edge of her plate, the once-warm toast now soggy from the untouched orange juice beside it. Her father’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was still allowed to speak to her.She said nothing.The clinking of silverware and the rustle of the newspaper filled the silence between them like static.Her father sighed, lowering the paper. "Dorya."She pushed her chair back and stood."You can’t keep avoiding the both of us," he said, his tone sharper now, laced with frustration. "We live in the same house."She still didn’t answer. Her eyes briefly flicked to him, a dull, shattered version of the daughter he once knew, then shifted toward the hallway."I’m trying here," he snapped finally. "You made a mistake. But so did I. Maybe we all did. You think silence fixes anything?"Dorya blinked slowly. "You really think this is about making mistakes?"He flinched at her voice. It was the first time she’d spo