Stepfamily Stories のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

Grant does not let go of my arms.Water is still running down my spine. It slides between my breasts and over my stomach and keeps going, and there is nowhere for it to hide. I am dripping on the hardwood in front of my stepfather and both of his sons and my first stupid thought is that I should apologize for the mess.My second thought is worse.I want him to look.“Breathe,” Grant says.I try. It comes out shaky.Rhett hasn’t moved from his doorway. Shirtless. Sweatpants sitting too low. His eyes are on my mouth first, then lower, and he doesn’t pretend otherwise. Cole is still holding the water bottle like he forgot it exists. That lazy smile is gone. What’s left on his face is hungrier.Grant’s thumbs press into the wet skin of my upper arms.“You were told to stay in your room.”“My shower—” My voice cracks. “It doesn’t work. I thought everyone was asleep.”“You thought wrong.”He turns me. Not rough. Just certain. Like I weigh nothing. He walks me backward until my shoulder blad

I open the box at noon like it might bite me.Black velvet collar. Soft. Thin. The little silver ring sits in the hollow of my throat when I fasten it with shaking fingers. I look at myself in the mirror and I do not look like a girl waiting for her mother to come home.I look like a girl who already said yes.I wear it all day.No panties. Grant’s shirt. Door open. I cannot eat. I cannot sit still. Every car on the street makes my stomach drop. I touch the ring at my throat so many times the skin under it turns warm.They come home after dark.Keys. The front door. Grant’s voice first, low. Then Rhett. Then Cole saying my name like he already knows.Footsteps on the stairs.They stop in my doorway.Grant sees the collar before he sees anything else.“Good girl.”Two words and I am dripping down my thigh.He walks in. Rhett and Cole follow this time. No doorway. No watching from the hall. The door stays open anyway.Grant stops in front of me. His fingers hook the silver ring and tug

I barely slept.Every time I closed my eyes I felt him again—the stretch, the heat, the way he’d held me down on his lap while the city lights blurred outside the windows. And underneath all of it sat the colder, sharper knowledge that somewhere in the cloud a video of me riding my bodyguard’s cock was waiting to upload to the server my father checked every single night.At 11:58 I had stood in the dark of my bathroom and refreshed the secure app on my phone like a woman possessed. At 12:01 the buffer cleared. No new files. No alerts. Marcus had done something. I didn’t know what, and the not-knowing sat in my stomach like ice.Morning came too bright and too normal.I came downstairs in a soft sweater and leggings, hair still damp from the shower, trying to look like a girl who had simply come home early and gone to bed. My father was already at the breakfast table with his tablet and coffee. Marcus stood near the far wall in his usual black suit, hands clasped behind his back, expre

Twenty-nine hours left.I woke to the soft vibration of my phone on the nightstand. No message. Just the secure app still showing the same delayed buffer, the countdown ticking in cold white numbers. Somewhere in the house Marcus was awake too. I could feel it the way animals feel storms before the sky changes.I didn’t see him until late morning.My father had a meeting at the downtown office and insisted I come along so we could have lunch afterward. Marcus drove. I sat in the back seat directly behind him, watching the hard line of his shoulders, the controlled way his hands rested on the wheel. Every few minutes our eyes met in the rear-view mirror. Neither of us looked away first.The meeting ran long. My father stayed inside the glass building while Marcus and I waited in the private underground garage. The second the elevator doors closed on my father’s back, Marcus locked the car.“Get in the front.”I climbed over the center console without a word. The moment I was in the pas

Fifty-three minutes left.I didn’t sleep. I sat on the edge of my bed in the dark with the phone in my hand and watched the numbers bleed away. Every time I closed my eyes I felt him again—the way he had held me down on the security desk, the low sound he made when he came inside me, the finality in his voice when he told me to leave.At 11:20 I left my room.The hallway was silent. My father’s door remained closed. I walked downstairs barefoot, the same black robe wrapped around me, and found the security room empty. The monitors glowed with empty corridors and still gardens. Marcus was not there.I found him in the garage.He stood beside the black SUV with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up, the same way he had looked the night he corrupted the file. The moment the side door opened he turned. For a long second neither of us spoke. The only sound was the soft tick of the cooling engine and the distant rush of wind through the trees outside.“You shouldn’t be down here,” he sai