Summer Wallpaper Aesthetic

"Ames, darling, you worry me." Linc Tanner, my billionaire stepfather breathes into the phone, and heat rises to my face at that damn nickname. That nickname coming out from his forbidden lips, capable of making my toes curl, my knees bent before him, taking all of him deep into my throat. ♠︎ ♠︎ ♠︎ The first day she came in contact with her stepfather, Amelia felt something shift in the air. Linc exudes menace. There's something about him that overwhelmed her. As the years passed—she found this magnetism toward him. It drew her in so deeply that despite knowing how wrong it was to find her stepfather attractive and lust after him, she couldn’t talk herself out of it. It was every shade of wrong. She should’ve been disgusted. Her pussy still clenched every time she thought about him, the way he looks at her, those dark eyes filled with a ring of lust and primal hunger. It melted her, it soaked her. It drenched her. When Amelia received a call to intern in her billionaire stepfather's company throughout the summer break, Amelia is terrified of what awaits her back in his New York City mansion where just three years ago after her mother's death and till now, she had been fighting against her treacherous feelings for him. He's been the only object of her wildest fantasies. Oh, the things she had thought about him doing to her, they were illicit. Filthy. Completely taboo. But Amelia is determined not to let her secret attraction override her judgments. Only if Linc would share the same resolve. She got the shock of her life when he didn't, and that is where the lines get blurrier for them.

"Help me tighten this?" Her voice trembles as she turns her bare back to the doorway. Calloused fingers brush her spine – but it’s not her stepmother. It’s Asher Voss, SU’s star quarterback and her new stepbrother, smirking in the mirror， "Next time you mistake me for Mom..." His breath scorches her ear. "...I’ll leave a real mark." To survive the sweltering New York summer before college, Wendy Wu makes a deal with Asher: Act like strangers once school starts. He’ll remain the untouchable quarterback; she’ll be just another exchange student. No eye contact. No acknowledgement. Ever. But when her father’s long hauls and her stepmother’s busy schedule force Asher into babysitting duty, the lines blur: In the kitchen, he catches her weeping over a shelter documentary and lifts her against his sweat-drenched chest. Garage doors rattle open – his grip tightens: "Hold on. Unless you want them to see you like this." At a party, her friend spots a cherry hair tie on his wrist before he drags her into a dark hallway: "You didn’t want to see me?" His whiskey-laced kiss brands her lips. "Yet your eyes undressed me all night." In a restaurant, a rival girl glares through the window. He traps Wendy’s thigh under the table， "Call me ‘brother’ and I’ll save you."  Their secret collapses. Wendy ends it, and he freezes her out in public， "Do I know you?" Until a rain-lashed night when Ahser, drenched and desperate, pins her to the wall， "Don’t tell me you do not regret the breakup" His teeth find her collarbone. "I have to admit it-- I miss you." Can a love forged in stolen touches survive the spotlight? Or will their step-sibling bond shatter them both?

Everyone in Palermo knew Alessandro De Luca had a reputation. He was the Boss of the De Luca family, one of the oldest bloodlines in Sicily — a name tied to the port, the courts, and half the construction contracts in Palermo. Wealth, power, discipline—those things were expected. Romance was not. He didn’t chase women, and he never went back to the same one twice. Until me. When we broke up after a brutal argument, he did something no De Luca had done in generations—he stood outside the gates of the Moretti estate, my family home, for an entire day and night. I watched from behind the curtains and never opened the door. The next day, he came inside the estate kitchen himself. Alessandro De Luca, who grew up surrounded by servants, tried to cook my favorite seafood pasta with his own hands. He burned the sauce. I threw it away without tasting it. On the third day, he found the necklace my grandmother had left me—something my uncle had sold years ago—and bought it back, paying far more than it was worth, just to return it to me. At a formal family dinner, in front of elders and allies, he made it clear: No more women. Only me. It took him a year to win me back. That summer, fireworks lit up the Palermo coastline as he announced our engagement. I believed he had chosen me. Until the night of a private gathering at an old harbor estate. A young woman was being pulled forward in the middle of the courtyard, her dress torn at the shoulder, tears running down her face. Alessandro went still. Then he stood up. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t explain. He just walked toward her. And something inside me went cold. I rested my hand over my abdomen. There was something I hadn’t told him yet. He broke his word that night. So I broke mine.