SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I trailed behind them into the house, snow still clinging to my lashes, lips tingling from the kiss he had stolen by the lake. The warmth inside hit me like a wall after the freezing air, but it did nothing to thaw the knot in my chest.

Cassian and Lila were already on the long sectional in the living room. She had changed into a thin silk robe the color of champagne, legs tucked beneath her, body angled toward him like a flower leaning into sunlight. He sat with the laptop balanced on his thighs, cable connected to the camera, transferring today’s files. The screen glowed with the images he had just taken: Lila on the pier, red-skinned and defiant against the snow, every curve and shiver preserved

forever.

Lila’s hand rested possessively on his forearm. Every time a new photo loaded, she made a soft sound of delight and leaned closer, cheek brushing his shoulder, hair spilling over his chest

like ink.

Cassian’s arm slid along the back of the couch behind her, fingers idly tracing the silk at her

upper arm.

Something sharp and ugly twisted inside me.

I turned to escape upstairs, to hide in my room until the feeling passed, but his voice stopped

“Ivy. Sit.”

Not a request.

I hesitated, then walked over and perched on the edge of the opposite cushion, as far from them as the sectional allowed.

Cassian patted the space right beside him. “Closer.”

Lila glanced up, eyes cool and amused, and shifted slightly to make room, but only barely.

I moved. He reached out, caught my wrist, and tugged until I was pressed against his left side, Lila on his right. He was warm, solid, the faint scent of cold air and darkroom chemicals clinging to his skin. Trapped between them, I felt like a bookend holding up a story I didn’t want to read.

He clicked through the photos, murmuring soft praise to Lila (beautiful contrast, perfect suffering, look at that gorgeous tremble), while his right arm stayed draped around her shoulders. His left hand, hidden from her view by the angle of his body, settled on my thigh.

I jolted.

His fingers spread wide, claiming the entire width of my leg through my leggings. A slow, deliberate stroke followed, from knee to mid-thigh and back again. Heat flared instantly, shame and want braided so tight I couldn’t tell them apart.

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Lila laughed at something on the screen and leaned her head fully on his shoulder. His fingers tightened on my thigh in response.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stay silent.

His hand crept higher, inch by inch, until his pinky brushed the seam between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together on instinct, trapping his fingers, but that only made it worse. The pressure sent a pulse of pure need straight through me.

Lila was still cooing over the photos, oblivious.

Cassian’s thumb traced slow circles now, pressing just enough that I felt it in my clit with every heartbeat. I stared fixedly at the laptop screen, lips caught between my teeth, terrified a sound would slip out.

When the transfer finished, Lila stretched like a satisfied cat, kissed his cheek, and stood.

“I’ll see myself out,” she purred. “Call me when you’re ready for round two.”

Cassian rose to walk her to the door. The second it closed behind her, the silence rushed in like floodwater.

I sat frozen on the couch, pulse roaring in my ears, staring at my own hands twisted in my lap.

He came back without a word.

One moment I was alone, the next his shadow fell over me. He didn’t speak. He simply cupped my face and kissed me, slow, filthy, deliberate, like he had been holding it in for hours and finally snapped. I made a helpless sound and kissed him back, hands fisting in his sweater, pulling him down on top of me.

We fell sideways onto the wide cushions, mouths fused, breathing each other in. His hands were everywhere, sliding under my sweater, palms skating over my ribs until he found my bra and pushed it up impatiently. Cool air hit my breasts a second before his hot mouth closed. over one nipple.

I arched with a broken cry. He sucked hard, teeth grazing, tongue soothing, then moved to the other, greedy, like he had been starving for the taste of me. My sweater disappeared over my head, bra following, tossed somewhere across the room.

He reared back just long enough to yank his own shirt off, and then his skin was on mine, chest to chest, the coarse hair scraping my sensitive nipples and making me whimper. His mouth found my throat, my collarbone, the upper curve of my breast, marking me with wet, open-mouthed kisses while his hands worked my leggings down my hips.

I helped kick them off, frantic now, until I was naked except for thin cotton panties already soaked through.

He knelt between my thighs, eyes dark and feral, drinking me in.

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“Look at you,” he rasped. “Fucking perfect.”

His palms smoothed up my calves, behind my knees, spreading me open. He hooked his fingers in my panties and dragged them down slowly, eyes locked on the wet spot in the

center.

“Christ, Ivy.”

He tossed them aside and lowered himself again, kissing a path down my stomach, tongue dipping into my navel, making me squirm. When he reached the apex of my thighs he paused, breathing me in, then pressed one soft, reverent kiss directly on my clit.

I jerked, hands flying to his hair.

He licked me open with slow, savoring strokes, like he had all the time in the world. Long, flat passes of his tongue, then little flicks that made my hips chase his mouth. When he sealed his lips around my clit and sucked gently, I cried out, back bowing off the couch.

Two thick fingers slid inside me without warning curling, stroking that spot that turned my spine to liquid. He worked me slowly, deliberately, building the pressure coil by coil, refusing to rush even when I started begging in broken whispers.

“Please, Cassian, please-”

He added a third finger, stretched me open, tongue never stopping, until the pleasure crested so high I couldn’t breathe. I came with a sharp cry, thighs clamping around his head, pulsing helplessly around his fingers.

He kept licking softly through the aftershocks, drawing it out until I was trembling and oversensitive.

Only then did he rise up over me, shoving his jeans down just enough to free himself. He was thick, hard, flushed dark with need. He fisted himself once, twice, eyes locked on mine.

“Tell me yes,” he said, voice ragged.

“Yes,” I breathed. “God, yes.’

He rolled on a condom I hadn’t even seen him grab, lined up, and pushed in with one slow,

relentless thrust.

We both groaned.

He was big, stretching me perfectly, filling me so completely I felt him everywhere. He stilled when he bottomed out, forehead pressed to mine breathing hard.

“You okay?”

I nodded frantically, nails digging into his shoulders.

He started to move.

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Slow at first, long drags out and deep pushes back in, letting me feel every inch. His mouth found mine again, swallowing every moan. The rhythm built gradually, hips rolling, grinding against my clit on every stroke until I was climbing again, faster this time.

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