All Chapters of Grade Me Harder: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I returned home with Wolfe, who opted to follow. And this time, my parents didn’t look at me with shame.They accepted Wolfe.They shook his hand—my father with surprising firmness, my mother with a soft, sheepish smile. And my dad, who once wouldn't even say my name without disappointment, couldn’t stop telling me how proud he was.Proud that I stood my ground.Proud that I defended myself.Proud that we proved that wolfe was an innocent man.That I didn’t back down even when it would’ve been easier to disappear.And today?Today is the day that Wolfe and I are going on a date.A real one. No hiding. No tension. No scandals.I stood in front of my mirror, tugging at the hem of my dress—black satin, just above the knee, with lace sleeves I picked because I knew he liked them. Something between elegant and badass. Something that felt like me.My phone buzzed.WOLFE: I’m outside. You’re late. That’s a detention-worthy offense.I smirked as my fingers flew across the screen (ME): Good. Ma

I didn’t know which number it was.I stopped counting after the fourth time he made me cum. He took me again and again until my body gave out, until pleasure bled into pain, and pain blurred into something deeper. Something darker.Something only he could give me.By the end, I could barely move. Could barely speak.I felt his weight shift, the mattress dip as he finally stilled—buried deep inside me, one final possessive thrust holding him there. I whimpered when he pulled out, my body too sensitive to even breathe right.I lay still, my body sore in places I hadn’t even known could ache. My skin was warm with sweat, my legs too weak to move, my mind heavy but clear. The room smelled like sex. The sheets beneath me were damp, tangled.I felt him shift behind me. His arm slid from under my ribs, and for a moment I thought he was getting up. But then he lowered himself instead. Carefully. Slowly.He pressed his forehead to my chest, right above my heart, and let out a quiet breath. His

A nurse pressed our baby into her arms, and Ava let out this broken, breathless sound, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.Ava's hands trembled as she cradled the tiny bundle close. The baby’s cries softened into little hiccuping whimpers, and she just stared, transfixed, her lips parted in shock.I couldn’t take my eyes off either of them. She was here. The baby was here. And I— I didn’t know what to do with the way my chest felt like it was caving in and expanding all at once.The nurse leaned in, smiling. “Congratulations. You have a daughter.”A daughter.I choked on air.She turned her head slightly, finally looking at me, her eyes wide and swimming with tears. “Wolfe,” she whispered, voice raw. “She’s—she’s ours.”I reached out, my fingers brushing the top of the baby’s head. It was so soft, so impossibly small and then I cupped her cheek, my thumb sweeping away the tears.“Yeah,” I rasped. “She is.”Our daughter.*Ours*.She let out a shuddering breath, her shoulders

NinaThe thought of getting pregnant had always been the surface of my deepest desires—dark, raw, and unrelenting. Seeing women with swollen bellies, their bodies transformed by passion and creation, sent heat rippling through me. I knew exactly what they did to be in that state, and the idea always made my breath hitch and my body ache.It started when I was 21, a craving I had to suppress through years of university and endless work shifts. But even as life piled responsibilities onto my shoulders, that need never left. It clung to me, lurking in the corners of my mind. Nine years later, despite my chaotic schedule, that fantasy only grew more vivid.Late at night, I'd come home exhausted but restless, slipping beneath my sheets with sinful thoughts swirling in my head. I'd imagine strong hands gripping my hips, my body sweaty and my inside filled to the brim, swollen with the proof of desire. The pulse between my legs became impossible to ignore until I found release, panting in th

I was told to submit my address, and I did. Then I made the necessary payment, which was quite cheaper than I thought. I also typed down my schedule because I didn’t want a situation where I would be out working and he would come in, only to find an empty house. I wanted to be ready. I wanted to be present.Unlike my usual days of juggling four to five part-time jobs and returning home by 9 or 10 PM, completely exhausted, today was different. I only worked at the café and the library before returning home. Today was the very first day I had ever skipped three part-time jobs since the day I became a working adult—more like a working slave. My bosses were all understanding and kind. They said I needed the break because I was very hardworking, and because of that, I tended to ignore my health.“You deserve a day off, Nina,” my café manager had said, her voice warm. “You can’t keep running yourself into the ground.”I had nodded, grateful. A day off meant time to think, time to feel. And