All Chapters of HIS CHUBBY STEPDAUGHTER: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The contractors had taken over the front of Wills & Words by midmorning. Yellow measuring tapes ran across the edge of the café. The older-looking man, who seemed to have known Miles from way back, kept writing on a clipboard while another crouched by the walkway with a laser tool, calling out numbers.Michela sat there, watching and envisioning what their little Wills and Words would become after this. To get, the place was finally being treated as something that would stay.Michela stood and moved toward the porch like she was trying to remember every bit of what this place used to look like after the renovations. Then a truck turned in too fast. The engine cut across the quiet work leaving dust in the air. One of the contractors looked up, already annoyed by the driver's recklessness. Michela knew the truck before the door even opened.Nathan.She moved away from the porch and into the open, giving herself space before he got close. Her heart was already beating faster, but she k

MICHELA;I followed Miles into the small office and shut the world out behind us.For once I was grateful the bookstore was closed to customers until the renovations were done. Only the contractors had seen what happened outside, and Sophie and the rest of the staff had already been told not to resume until the café side was ready again. That left the office feeling sealed off, like a room holding its breath after a storm. Miles did not sit. He went a few steps in, stopped near the desk, and stood there with his back partly to me. One hand rubbed across his forehead, the other stayed at his waist. His shoulders were still high, still locked in the shape of the lot outside.I knew that look.He was replaying it. The way Nathan’s hand had been on my arm, the words, the grab, and maybe already blaming himself for how everything turned out… The lift. In his head, he was already asking whether he had gone too far, even while every part of him still rejected the idea of that boy touching

MICHELA; Miles and I drove uptown toward the department stores for groceries. The whole way there, he talked about a new recipe he had seen online… something with garlic, heavy cream, and a kind of pasta he swore would taste better than it looked on the screen. He described each step as if he could already smell it in our kitchen. I laughed when I was supposed to and answered enough to keep the conversation moving, but my mind kept trying to wander back to Nathan on that empty path. I refused to let it stay there. That boy had taken enough space from us already with all of his cranky attitude. Whatever mess sat between him and his father was theirs to sort out. My only real concern was Jemy. As long as Nathan did not turn his hurt into something that harmed her, I wanted this evening left peaceful for Miles and me. We moved through the aisles with a small cart, Miles dropping in ingredients while I watched the way he checked labels like cooking was a serious project, spankin

MICHELA;Miles was topping two cupcakes with whipped cream when I reached the lower half of the stairs. The kitchen door stood wide open, light spilling into the hall, and for a second I only watched him from above: his head bent, huge shoulders bare, the soft flex of his arm as he guided the cream in slow circles. I wanted him looking at me before my feet touched the final step. My hand found the light switch on the stair wall and cut the stairwell light off.Darkness closed behind me. The kitchen brightness pulled his attention up at once, just how I wanted it.His eyes found me and stopped there. The hand around the cream jar tightened. Whatever careful motion he had been making stalled in the air as I came down the last stairs with one palm sliding along the rail. Each step felt slower than it needed to be. I let him look. I wanted him to. It was Father's Day and I wasn’t going to let this night pass by without properly thanking him for the man he had been all week. He kept loo

MICHELA;Miles did not stop at one soft lick and mercy. He worked my clit until my thighs couldn't stop shaking against his shoulders, cream and wetness mixing under his tongue. Each time my hips jerked, he pinned them down with one strong forearm and kept going. The pleasure built so fast it almost scared me. My mouth fell open against nothing. The kitchen filled with sounds I could not swallow back.“Daddy… wait… I’m…” I cried“Don’t wait,” he commanded. “Come.”The first orgasm hit hard. It rolled through my stomach and down my legs until my heels slipped on the edge of the island. I cried out and tried to close my thighs around his head, just to be able to hold the tension there, but he wouldn't let me. He was torturing me with ecstasy as he held me open through it all, licking me through every pulse until I was trembling and oversensitive.Only then did he rise.His mouth shone with wetness. His chest rose and fell hard while he wiped his lower lip with the back of his hand and