Why Does My Toddler Wedge Between Us During Intimate Moments?

“I don’t know how,” I whispered. “Can you show me? Please, daddy.” He should have said no. Instead, he said, “Lie back and open those pretty legs. Let daddy take care of that for you.” When I shattered all over his fingers he looked at me like I was the most devastating thing he’d ever seen and said, “That’s my sweet girl.” Three days later he put me on a plane to London and didn’t look back. ----- She has spent three years across an ocean trying to unlearn her Stepfather; his voice, his hands, the way he said her name like it cost him something. She almost managed it. Then he called to say he was getting married again and he needed her home. Now she’s back in Boston, sleeping under his roof, watching him plan a future with someone else, and pretending she doesn’t still want him the way she did at nineteen. He is doing the same, pretending. Controlling. Building walls and calling it protection. But three years haven’t changed what’s between them. If anything, the distance made it worse. He sent her away once to save her from him. This time, she isn’t leaving. Some things are wrong in every way that matters, and still impossible to stop. WARNING: This book contains explicit erotic content and is meant for mature audiences. It explores desire, power, and complicated relationships without holding back. Please proceed only if you’re comfortable with that.

'I'm mommy's good boy,' he repeated. 'You really want to hear me beg?' He said letting out a cheeky laugh. 'I want to cum so bad,' he said in between pants. 'Please...' 'Please what?' Another male voice sounded from behind me. I smiled, knowing who it is. I heard his footsteps and felt his eyes on my, making me shiver. He came into view on my right and walked over to Jackson, who looked flustered, looking between the two of us. I witnessed him revert back into submission so quickly, bratty behavior all gone. That's my daddy. Michael placed his bag down and brought one knee on the bed, leaning down on Jackson. I watched in awe as he kissed him with much passion and like every other time, I was in awe. Of their connection. I witnessed it first hand and it's the purest I've ever seen. Michael pulled back to look at me, winking with a knowing smirk as he looked down at our conjoined bodies. 'Tell mommy what you want, baby,' he turned to Jackson, who whimpered under the control of two Doms. 'Come on, beg for it, love,' Jackson was panting with need. 'Please me mommy...' ● After a tragic but not so tragic divorce between Samantha Dixon-Pitt and Martin Pitt, Michael and Jackson are ready to welcome a third party into their relationship. Restricted by friendship and Samantha's marriage, they are ready to take the next step.

On the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Vicente Buckley, he violated my trust by sleeping with my best friend Kinsley Gilmore, on our bed. Through the camera, my son Jamie Buckley's childish voice sounded. "Kinsley, I'll keep watch at the door. I won't let my mom come in!" As if rewarding him, Kinsley pecked Vicente and suggested, "Your son is great. Don't you think about having another child with Patricia?" Vicente responded by covering her face with a pillow, saying, "The scar on her belly disgusts me."

The day after our wedding, Justin Hudson and I are finally about to leave for our honeymoon. A trip that's supposed to be just for the two of us. But as we're about to board our flight, his mother, Karen Cruz, shows up beside him with a suitcase and a warm smile. "I'm not here to get in your way," she says. "I'm just tagging along." I freeze. Justin simply takes my hand and tries to reassure me. "My mom raised me all by herself. It wasn't easy. If she wants to come, let her. Don't start acting selfish the minute we're married." The entire trip, the two of them sit together, reminiscing about relatives I've never met and sharing stories I've never heard. Karen even jokes that the neighbor's daughter used to insist she'd only ever marry Justin. Justin laughs as he peels an orange for her. "Mom, don't start." He never even looks at me. When we arrive at the hotel, the front desk informs me that the honeymoon suite I booked has been changed to a family room. Karen immediately takes my hand. "Zoe, I was just trying to save you two some money. We're family. Why pay for two rooms?" That night, she complains that the air conditioning is too cold, the shower is too loud, and my perfume gives her a headache. By the end of the night, she's called Justin over to sit beside her bed. He stays there until dawn. Only then does he finally turn to me. "My mom's getting older. Just let her have this." I stare out at the pale gray ocean. And in that moment, I finally understand. This honeymoon gives the two of them exactly what they want. As for me, I'm nothing more than the extra bride in their story.

The doctor told me I would never have a baby, so we took a fifteen-year-old girl we found on the street out of pity--to adopt her. But as she got older, her wants grew, and by the time she was twenty she wanted my husband. With all the emotional turmoil, should I share my husband with my own adopted daughter?

I was getting my 18th fertility injection, but my husband snatched the syringe away from me. "That thing's tormented you for three years. I heard we'll get a child of our own if we adopt a kid. Maybe we can go with that." He brought home an adorable baby girl that afternoon and called her Cece. He would make a lot of faces to make her laugh and loved her like she was his own. My husband rarely smiled after we got married. It wasn't every day he made a request, and I, cradled by my fantasy of having our own baby, went along with his plan. Three years had gone by since we took Cece in, but I had gotten no child of my own. I was also slightly concerned that she couldn't utter a single word even though she was already four years old. I made a lot of trips and put in a lot of effort to help her. One day, I came home only to find out there were voices in the room. "I miss you, Mom. Please come back soon." Ecstasy caught me in its grip and stopped me in my tracks. I wanted to call out to Cece, but I saw her in a video call through the ajar door. My husband was right by Cece, and his eyes were glued to the screen. They were filled with the kind of devotion I had never seen before. My footsteps went quiet before I realized it. My silence was rewarded when a voice came from the phone, saying, "Mommy's coming back next week, Cece."