All Chapters of IN MY STEPSON’S BED: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The black dress fit me better than I expected. It was the funeral today, and after a last-minute search, I managed to find something appropriate.It was the first black dress I’d ever owned, and I wasn’t sure what I’d do with it after today.I paired it with black Louboutin heels and a long coat that reached my knees — the rain made it necessary.My makeup was light, just enough to keep me looking put-together. Burgundy lipstick. Hair pulled back into a neat ponytail.When we arrived, I noticed there weren’t many people there. Just Richard, Noah, a few friends, and me.The priest started talking. Something about peace, and letting go, and life not ending but changing. I wasn’t really listening. I heard the words, but they didn’t land. They just filled the silence.He stood at the front with his Bible open, reading calmly, like he’d done this a hundred times. People around me were nodding along, wiping their eyes, holding hands. I kept mine at my sides.When he said Claire’s name, I f

NOVEMBER NoahIt’s a light shower—or maybe snow—falling this evening. I’ve sat in this chair nine times now, alone on Thanksgiving, since the day my mother died. Each year, I hesitate. But this time is different.Dianne invited me. And it’s hard to say no to her.I probably wouldn’t have gone if it weren’t for her. Truth is, she’s the only reason. It’s always been her.We had sex earlier today—just a quick one, rushed. As always, she was eager to head back home, talking about Richard and the preparations. So I didn’t get to hold her as long as I wanted.Now, I miss her already.I made up my mind. I was going.Dressed in a black tailored vest, sleeves rolled up to my elbows, I grabbed a bottle of wine and headed to the house.As I pulled up, the faint sound of laughter spilled from the dining room windows. The scent of roasted turkey—maybe something else Dianne had whipped up—drifted through the air. I stepped out of the car and adjusted my sleeves, taking a breath I didn’t realize I

Noah DECEMBER It had been two weeks since she broke my heart. And somehow, it hurt more than I imagined it would.She hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Not once.I didn’t reach out either. She made herself clear, and for reasons I can’t fully explain… I didn’t want to be the one who begged.Deep down, I always knew this day would come. We weren’t built to last—not the way we came together. It felt too good to be real, too impossible to hold on to.She was too good for me. I just never thought we’d fall apart because of him.I thought she loved me. I thought we could’ve worked through it. We should’ve been able to.But I was right all along—She really did love him more than she loved me.I couldn’t work or focus. The apartment was a disaster, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t even care enough to clean it.What made it worse was that she was everywhere. On the news. On social media.Smiling. Glowing. Standing beside him.She and Richard looked closer than ever, and every

I’d missed this, his lips, the taste of his saliva, all of it. I sucked on his tongue with intention, taking my time to rediscover everything I’d craved for nearly five months. Somehow, it tasted even better now.His groans, as always, fueled my confidence. I moved to his lips, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, felt the urge to suck on his bottom one. I did slowly, gently—until I tasted blood. He winced, pulling back.“Sorry,” I whispered.But he only smirked and pulled me back in, his hand gripping the nape of my neck.Right now, he wasn’t distant. He was tangled in my arms, completely wrapped up in me. And I loved it. Every bit of it. It turned me on even more, making every inch of my body acutely aware of his touch.I reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle. The position we were in was ridiculous—it almost made me laugh. But I guess that’s what happens when Noah Wilson makes love to you. You become obsessed, willing to twist yourself into the most uncomfortable angles just

Noah It was becoming harder for me to hold myself around her. Every time we made love, it always got better—she always felt too good.But before I could say anything else, the memory of her tears filtered into my brain, and I remembered that she was crying.Gently, I pulled myself out of her, causing her to gasp lightly before I settled on my back. My eyes drifted to the ceiling, and I was stuck on it for a moment, admiring the glowing chandelier that shined across the room.I took my condom off, tossing it in the trash can nearby before I turned to face her—although she refused to look at me. Something had happened, obviously. It was so easy to read her.Was it the news she broke to him about the divorce? Did he do something to her?I wanted to ask, but I decided to chug it down, starting slowly because of the mood she was in.I couldn’t think of any other thing that made her show up with tears welling in her eyes.“Are you okay?”There was a beat of silence, as if she was thinking