Shhh Daddy won’t Know
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"Shhh, Daddy won't know," Lucas whispered, his hands tracing my thighs as the silk of my robe slid away. My husband bought the robe, but it was his son's touch that made me tremble. "Stop... Stop, Lucas," I said, but my body betrayed me, already dripping with a need I'd buried for years. I was about to make out with a 23-year-old boy, in the home his father paid for. The air was thick with secrets, my guilt a sharp perfume beneath his clean, dangerous scent. This wasn't fixing him anymore. This was him breaking me open, and God help me, I was begging for the crash.