Todos los capítulos de SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER: Capítulo 121 - Capítulo 130

IVY“Ahhh—yes—Noah—right there—fuck—”My moan echoed off the kitchen tiles as Noah thrust deep again, the breakfast table creaking under the force. My legs were hooked over his arms, thighs spread wide, body pinned open and trembling. He had me right on the edge—every hard snap of his hips driving him deeper, the thick head of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside me until my vision blurred.He groaned against my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Goddamn, Ivy—listen to you. So fucking loud. Pussy’s gripping me so tight. You love this, don’t you? Love getting fucked raw on the table while the eggs burn.”I couldn’t answer with words—only another broken cry as he slammed in harder. My nails raked down his back, leaving red lines. Sweat slicked our bodies, mixing with the faint smell of coffee and bacon still lingering in the air. The dishes rattled. A mug tipped and rolled, tea spilling across the wood. I didn’t care. I just clung to him, hips rocking to meet eve

I stood in Aunt Clara’s guest bathroom with both hands braced on the sink, staring at the running water. It rushed out in a steady stream, loud enough to cover the sound of my breathing, but not loud enough to drown out the echo of Mom’s words inside my head. I’d read the letter three times already, each pass making fresh tears well up. She’d planned. She’d saved. She’d known Cassian would hurt me someday and she’d tried to build a safety net I never even saw. My fingers trembled when I splashed cold water on my face. It didn’t help. The tears kept coming anyway—quiet, steady, the kind that hurt your chest more than your eyes.I didn’t expect her to think that far ahead. She’d been so tired those last months. Thin, pale, always coughing. I thought her only worry was getting through the next treatment, the next scan, the next bad night. I never imagined she was hiding money for me. Protecting me from him even when she couldn’t protect herself. The guilt twisted sharp and sudden. I

I slipped back into the guest room and closed the door as quietly as I could. The hallway light snapped off when I turned the switch, leaving only the faint glow from the nightlight near the baseboard. I sat on the edge of the bed, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, trying to make myself small. The quilt was soft under me, but it didn’t feel comforting. Nothing did.Uncle Ray’s words kept looping in my head.I’ve seen the video.I watched it every night.I knew it was you.My stomach twisted again—sharp, sick. I pressed a hand to my mouth and breathed through my nose until the nausea passed. I wanted to crawl under the covers and disappear. I wanted to scrub my skin until it bled. I wanted to go back in time and never let Cassian pick up that camera.But I couldn’t do any of those things.So I did the worst possible thing instead.I opened my phone.I searched my own name.Then “little girl” + “stepdad” + variations I hated typing.The results loaded too fast.Thumbnails. Tit

CASSIANThe office was quiet except for the low hum of the laptop fan and the occasional click of my mouse. I sat hunched over the desk, editing the same batch of client portraits I’d been staring at for three days straight. Same faces. Same lighting adjustments. Same color grading. Same everything. The work blurred together—skin tones, shadows, highlights—until it all looked like nothing. I kept moving the sliders anyway. Kept pretending focus would fix the hole in my chest.The door opened without a knock.Claire stepped in carrying two mugs. Steam curled up from the black coffee she liked. The other one was mine—cream, two sugars, the way she still remembered even though I hadn’t asked her to make it in months. She wore the silk robe she always put on after her shower, hair damp at the ends, feet bare on the hardwood. She looked soft. Domestic. Like the wife she was supposed to be.She set my mug down beside the trackpad.“You’re ignoring Daddy’s calls again,” she said. No ang

IVY A month had passed since I left the city, and living in this new place still felt like wearing someone else’s skin. The small town was quiet—too quiet sometimes. Streets rolled up after nine, the only store open late was the gas station on the highway, and the motel I lived in had the same six cars in the lot every night. I’d changed my phone number the day after I arrived. The only people who had the new one were Sarah and Jonas. I told them I needed space. They didn’t argue, but I could hear the worry in their voices every time we talked. I didn’t blame them. I was worried too. I hadn’t told Noah. I couldn’t. Every time I opened a message to him, my thumb hovered over the send button and then backed out. I kept seeing his face at the airport—small, brave smile, hand raised in that last wave. I kept hearing his voice saying “I love you” like it was the easiest truth in the world. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been kind. Steady. Safe. But he’d come into my li