Stepfamily Stories のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 281 - チャプター 290

Evan asked about the previews again before I’d even finished my coffee.He was still in the T-shirt he’d slept in, hair messy, scrolling with one thumb while the other rested on my bare knee under the table. The kitchen was bright. Normal. The kind of morning that should have felt safe. It didn’t.“Julian’s usually faster than this,” he said, not looking up. “You sure everything went okay at the shoot? He didn’t say anything weird, did he?”I smiled over the rim of my mug. The lie sat easy on my tongue now. “He said he wanted a few more. We’re doing another session tonight.” Between my legs I was still slick from last night—Julian’s load and Evan’s mixed and shifting every time I crossed my thighs. The thin cotton of my sleep shorts clung. I could feel it if I paid attention. I was paying attention.Evan nodded, satisfied, and went back to his phone. “Good. Tell him I want the engagement ones soon. Mom’s already asking.”My own phone buzzed in my lap. I angled the screen away from him

MayaReid’s hands were already on my hips when Derek’s text came through.Flight’s delayed. Won’t be back till Sunday night. Tell Reid he can still use the gym if he wants. Code’s the same.I was on my hands and knees on the mat in our home gym, wearing the tiny shorts and sports bra Derek liked for “form checks.” Reid—forty-two, one of my husband’s highest-paying clients—had been spotting me through the last set. Now his palms were warm and steady on my waist, thumbs brushing the bare strip of skin above the waistband, and he hadn’t moved them since the text lit up my phone.“Sunday,” he said behind me. His voice was low. Calm. “That’s a long weekend. You planning to work out alone the whole time?”I should have stood up. I stayed where I was. “Derek said you could use the gym.”“I know what he said.” Reid’s hands slid lower, gripping the tops of my thighs, spreading them just enough that the shorts pulled tight. “What I’m asking is what you’re going to do when I book the late sessio

Derek’s flight landed at 11:40 p.m. on Sunday.I was still on the mat when the text came through. Reid had left twenty minutes earlier. The plug was seated deep. His third load of the weekend was warm around it, mixed with the two from Saturday and the one from Friday night. My sports bra was damp with sweat. The mat under me was streaked. I hadn’t cleaned any of it yet.Finally on the ground. Be home in an hour. You okay?I stared at the message, cunt throbbing, and typed back with steady fingers.Fine. Gym’s a mess. I’ll clean it.Reid’s text arrived before I could stand.He’s landing. Don’t clean up yet. Send the pic. Then plug stays in until he fucks you. I want him sliding through all of it. If you wash anything out before he does, I cancel every session starting Monday and he loses the income before he unpacks. Clear?Clear.I took the picture—thighs spread, plug visible, thick white leaking around the base and onto the rubber—and sent it. Then I stayed where I was, listening to

SloaneAdrian’s hand was on the small of my back when Marcus’s name lit up my phone.“Tell him the contracts look good,” Adrian said, voice low against my ear. His palm stayed where it was, warm through the thin silk of my blouse, thumb brushing just above the waistband of my skirt. “And tell him I’m staying for dinner.”I answered on the second ring. Marcus sounded tired, airport noise in the background. “Adrian there yet? He said he’d swing by and go over the final pages.”“He’s here.” I kept my voice even. Adrian’s hand slid lower, settling on the curve of my ass, fingers pressing just enough to make my breath catch. “We’re looking at them now.”“Good. Don’t let him leave until everything’s signed. I trust him.” Marcus laughed, soft and oblivious. “Love you. Be home Thursday.”“Love you too.”The call ended. Adrian didn’t move his hand.“Thursday,” he repeated. He stepped in closer, the heat of him against my side, and reached past me to turn the contract folder so the signature pa

Marcus called again at 5:47 while I was already on the table.Adrian had walked in twenty minutes early. No greeting. He’d locked the door behind him, pushed the remaining contracts aside in one sweep, and bent me over the edge before I’d even finished pouring the wine I’d opened so the apartment would look normal if Marcus asked later. My skirt was already around my waist. No panties. I’d stopped wearing them on the nights he stayed late. His cock was buried deep before the first glass was full, fucking me in slow, heavy thrusts that made the table creak and the wine bottle rock. The stretch was immediate and thick, every inch of him dragging over the place that made my knees want to give. My phone lit up with Marcus’s name against the wood. Adrian reached over without pulling out, answered it on speaker, and set the phone face-up near my cheek so Marcus’s voice filled the space between my open mouth and the contracts.“Talk,” he said quietly, hips still moving in those long, deliber