All Chapters of Unhinged Desires: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"You can't be serious, mom!" Sia yelled at her mother. "What do you mean you're married? And you never told me? Your fucking daughter?" "Sia, relax-""Don't fucking tell me to relax, mom! Do you know how I feel about this? How exactly do you expect me to call someone I barely know dad?!" "Language, Sia!" her mother snapped, and that somehow made Sia calm down a bit. "I know it was a bit rushed... but the earlier the better. Logan and I have been -""I don't care what you and Logan or whatever his name is have been doing. You know what, mom? I'm done listening to this bullshit," Sia said and grabbed her bag, ignoring her mother. "I'm gonna crash at Maya's."She started toward the door, totally ignoring her mother's voice. She couldn't believe her mother actually got married during her trip, and she didn't even tell her. After the promise they made to themselves... to be there for each other with no men involved.Now she was about bringing in some random man into their lil cycle. Sia

Sia moved the last box up the stairs, her tank top clinging to her skin from the August heat. The house was massive, her mother’s new husband had money, and it was very obvious. Three stories, a pool in the back , and enough space that she wouldn’t have to see anyone if she didn’t want to. “Your room’s at the end of the hall,” her mother called from downstairs. “Derek’s room is next to yours. Try to get along.” Sia rolled her eyes and walked away with the box. Derek. Her new stepbrother. Twenty eight, built like he lived in a gym, with dark hair and eyes that seemed to look right through her at dinner few days ago. Sia had noticed. She’d noticed the way his dress shirt stretched across his shoulders, the way he said he’d like having her around. She’d gone home that night after the dinner and used her vibrator twice, ashamed and turned on in equally. She pushed open her bedroom door and dropped the box. The room was nice, much bigger than her old apartment, with a queen bed an

Sia woke up sore. But not just sore — marked. She could still feel him inside her, the stretch of his cock , the ache between her thighs that pulsed with every movement. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling and tried to convince herself it was a mistake. He was her stepbrother. They were absolutely family now. What they had done was wrong, filthy, and the kind of thing that would destroy her mother if she found out. Sia pressed her palms to her eyes and tried to breathe through the panic rising in her chest. She had let him take her virginity. Begged for it. Screamed his name, called him daddy while he— “Fuck,” she whispered. Sia dragged herself out of bed, wincing at the sharp ache between her thighs, and dressed for class. She needed to forget, needed distance, space to think without Derek’s dark eyes tracking her every move. Downstairs, her mother was making coffee. Derek sat at the kitchen island in a tight black t-shirt that showed off every muscle, scrolling through his

Maya dragged her out on Friday. “You look like you’re dying,” her friend said, shoving a dress into Sia’s hands. Red, tight and revealing. “We’re getting you drunk and getting you laid by someone who isn’t family drama.” Sia didn’t correct her, because she was right anyway. The club was loud, dark, packed with bodies grinding and sweating. Maya bought shots, and Sia drank them one after another, letting the alcohol burn away her thoughts, her restraint, her loyalty to a man who was torturing her with silence. Three drinks in, she was dancing. Four drinks in, a stranger’s hands were on her hips. Five drinks in, she was in the corner with a man she didn’t know, his mouth on her neck, his cock hard against her hip. “You’re beautiful,” he slurred, his hands roaming. “Want to get out of here?” Sia looked up into his face — blond, handsome, nothing like Derek — and felt a spike of vicious satisfaction. She dropped to her knees in the shadowed corner, her fingers working his belt

Amaya had been looking for her mother for twenty minutes.The house was too large for three people — a display of her stepfather's wealth that still made her feel like a guest three years after he'd married her mother. Marble floors, cathedral ceilings, rooms that swallowed sound and secrets. She'd checked the kitchen, the sunroom, the garage. Her mother's phone had gone straight to voicemail. The only place left was the master wing.She took the stairs two at a time, her bare feet silent on the polished wood, her cutoff denim shorts riding high on her thighs. It was Saturday morning, barely past ten, and she'd expected the house to be empty — her mother had mentioned errands, her stepfather had left for the gym at dawn. The bedroom door was closed but not locked, and Amaya didn't knock. She never did. This was her mother's house, her mother's room, her right to enter.She pushed inside. "Mom, have you seen my—"The words died in her throat.The shower was running in the en-suite b