Stepmother Novels & Stories

said Stella’s stepmother, smirking at her. Stella became furious at her stepmother’s words. “Humph. Your mother’s mother was a whore, seducing my dad. Thus, giving birth to your mother. Your mother’s a whore who seduced my husband.” “My mother’s not a whore,” said Stella. Stella’s stepmother laughed. “Your mother IS a whore! She seduced your father, MY husband and made him fall head over heels for her! Stealing him for years!” she huffed. “That’s how she gave birth to you, you slut!”

Emily widened her eyes and nodded vigorously. "Keith, I love your daddy, and I love you and Owen. I want us to be a family. But your daddy never wants to look at me... I'm really afraid that he will marry another woman, afraid that you'll have a stepmother who will mistreat you and treat you poorly... I'm also afraid that the stepmother will treat you too well and make you forget about your biological mother..." These were Emily's sincere words, tears streaming down her face, filled with sorrow.

She then smiled shyly and left. Her gesture caught me off guard, filling me with a surge of excitement. It was a clear sign—she cared for me just as deeply as I cared for her. Perhaps dating her was the best decision; it would bring me closer to my children. For the first time in what felt like forever, the prospect of peace and happiness seemed within reach. ******* "How dare you lay your filthy hands on my son!" Stephanie, my stepmother, roared immediately as I stepped into the mansion. The mansion is just a five-minute drive from mine; it's a larger and grander version of mine.

“Until I got kicked out.” “Wait, what?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended. “Kicked out? What for?” “Does it matter?” She shrugs, that blasé attitude a clear mask for something deeper. “My stepmother couldn’t stand that I was… different. She’s this devout Christian woman who thinks anything outside her mold is… well, sinful.” “Sinful? As in…?”

“I just wanna get to know you.” “I like that.” she said, batting her eyes. “What do you do? Dad said you worked a lot, but I don’t recall what you did.” “I’m a nurse anesthetist.” “Oh, wow. So you’re as smart as you are pretty.” “You shouldn’t say that about me. I’m your stepmother.” she said. “You know they make a lot of p**n about that.” I said, raising my eyebrows and testing the waters for how far into the gutter she’d let things stray.

“Andre is his son, isn’t he?” The question was calm. It was not accusing and they was no anger in the question, just understanding. Tears stung my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered. Catherine nodded. “I thought so.” “You’re not angry?” I asked “Why would I be?” She answered “Because Mason is technically my step brother.” I continued Catherine sighed softly. “Step brother by law,” she said, “not by blood.” “But people will talk.” She continued “People always talk.” Her eyes softened.

Will Her father is obviously disappointed that we'll only be staying one night. I’m surprised when Stephanie’s response is to tell him that she left everything in order before she went to Sloane’s birthday party. She told me she has been acting as Luna, but I didn’t realize that her stepmother is doing nothing in the Luna capacity, except reaping the benefits. I’m quickly beginning to understand what Stephanie means about her stepmother and stepsister not earning the respect of the pack. How can any Luna expect her pack to respect her when she doesn’t even do her job?

I was touching myself while imagining my stepfather sitting right across the room giving me orders. Moaning and screaming his name. I never would imagined to actually open my eyes and see him leaning against the door, his gaze fixed on me, his bulge throbbing. “Slutty little thing, you're moaning and screaming my name while touching yourself, how shameless can you be Cassandra?”

The confession slipped out, vulnerable and true. My quiet personality cracked open, enough to let him peek inside the storm I’d hidden for years. He stepped closer, towering over me, that commanding presence making my knees weak. “This is dangerous, princess. I’m your stepfather. Your mother…” “Mom’s not here,” I whispered, bold from the whiskey and the pressing desires he’d left me with since the sleepwalking night. I set my glass down and reached for his hand. “Dance with me? Just for a minute. The weather is too cold to ignore.”

“Your new stepmother.” Stepmother. I was twenty-one. She couldn’t have been more than thirty-two. Barely eleven years between us. My chest burned with something close to resentment but laced with a wicked curiosity I couldn’t admit to myself. That night at dinner, I learned she grew up in Texas, worked as a fitness trainer for wealthy housewives, and met Dad when he joined her yoga class in Scottsdale. My dad had been alone for years after Mom died of cancer. I should have been happy for him. But every time her lips wrapped around the edge of her wine glass, I imagined them wrapping around something else.