Revenge With Step-Daddy
My hand drifts down between my legs, not to touch, just to feel the heat still lingering there, the faint throb that says he was inside me hours ago.
I close my eyes.
And the question slips in quiet, like it’s been waiting for him to leave.
“Am I still doing this for revenge?”
The words feel small in the empty room.
I open my eyes, stare at the ceiling.
Revenge used to feel sharp. Clean. Like a blade I could hold up and see my reflection in—twisted, angry, justified. I wanted to take him from her. Wanted to watch her face when she realized her perfect billionaire husband was fucking her daughter instead.