Todos los capítulos de STEPFAMILY HEAT: 21 Daddy Lessons: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

I took the ring off in the car.The gold band left a pale dent in my skin, a ghost of Nathan still sitting on my finger while I walked toward the side door like a woman going to evening mass and meaning none of it. My purse was light. The ring was in the inner pocket, wrapped in a tissue, as if cloth could make adultery quieter. My mouth was dry. Everything else was not.The church had emptied badly. A last old woman lingered near the candles. A boy stacked hymnals. Father Elias stood at the edge of the sanctuary in the same cassock from the booth, same face as the man who had kissed me at our wedding, and when his eyes found my bare left hand the air between us went thin.He did not smile.He tipped his head toward the sacristy.I followed him through a door the congregation did not use. Wine. Wax. Clean linen. A narrow room with a lock he turned without looking at me. The click was softer than the booth and worse. Saturday. After evening mass. Ring off. The sin I had not committed y

Nathan was asleep by eleven.I knew the sound of it. The heavier breath. The arm thrown toward my side of the mattress like he still had a right to the space. I lay still until I was sure, wedding band cold on my finger, body still tender from the sacristy table, Elias’s order sitting in me like a second pulse.Side gate. I’ll tell you when.The text had come after dinner, while Nathan was talking about work and I was nodding with his brother’s cum already a memory between my legs.Elias: Midnight. He sleeps on his back. Don’t turn on a light.I took the ring off in the hallway.It felt worse here than in the car. This was the house. Our photographs. His shoes by the door. The toy still in my drawer like a witness. I opened the side gate in the dark and Father Elias was already there, not in the cassock, black shirt, same face as the man snoring thirty feet away.He looked at my bare hand.Then at the house.“Show me the bed,” he whispered.I did.We did not speak in the kitchen. We d

SloaneI stood glued to the door with a bouquet, a cake, and a wrapped box in my arms, and watched my stepbrother get fucked.That was Frank’s birthday.He was on all fours on his bed. Shirt shoved up his back. Jeans at his knees. A man behind him with a fist in his hair and hips snapping forward hard enough that the frame hit the wall. Frank made a sound I had never heard out of him. Not the bored snap he used on me in the kitchen. Not the silence he gave me in the hallway. A broken, punched-out moan, like the arrogance had been fucked out of his throat for one second and something honest had come through.I should have left.I didn’t.The whole house had forgotten him. Mom and his dad had been married weeks, and they were still performing the new family downstairs like birthdays were for people who said thank you at dinner. Frank had treated me like furniture since I moved in. Invisible. In the way. A girl his father had acquired with a wife. I had bought the cake anyway. I had writ

Mark didn’t close the door all the way.He watched.Frank was still notched against me, shaking, caught between pulling out and pushing in, and Mark leaned on the frame like the birthday had just gotten interesting.“Go on,” Mark said softly. “I want to see you fuck her.”“Mark—”“You were already going to. Don’t get shy now. She’s dripping on it.”Frank looked at me. Panic. Heat. The same wrecked mouth from the afternoon.Then he pushed in.The stretch knocked a sound out of me that Mark laughed under his breath at. Frank filled me in one thick slide, hips meeting mine, a broken noise in his throat like he hated how good it felt. He started moving, not careful, using me the way his body had wanted since my fingers went between my legs. The bed complained. I grabbed his hoodie. He fucked me through it.Mark’s hand went to his own jeans.He opened them and stroked himself in the doorway, eyes on Frank’s ass flexing, on Frank’s cock disappearing into me, on my mouth falling open. He did

His head snapped around.For one raw second he was still holding himself, cock wet, fist tight, my name still in the air. Then shame hit him like a door. He shoved himself back into his jeans so fast it had to hurt, yanked the zipper, and stood with his body between me and the television like he could block a video of my own cunt with his spine.“What the fuck are you doing here?”His voice was wrecked. Not the cousin voice. The one from the moan.On the screen I was still getting used. Two men trying to share me. My masked mouth stretched. The sound kept going because he had not found the remote yet.I swallowed. No anger came. Something darker did. Heat. A sick, bright thrill that I had been right for years and he had been lying with his whole face.“Did you just say my name?”Jayden stared at me.Then he looked at the skirt. The bare tops of my thighs. The shine I had not wiped off my fingers. Color left his face and came back hotter.“You were never supposed to be here.”He snatch