Kimmy has been in love with her stepfather for years and watches as her mother spends night after night “working late” instead of coming home to her husband. Now that Kimmy is 18, she knows she can make her move. Seducing her stepfather might be the easy part, but will she be able to keep him?
Book/Buy Links: Torquere
He thinks I don’t see how he looks at me. I’ve pretended not to see the long, hot, lingering gazes since I was sixteen. I knew he wouldn’t have done anything then. But now that I’m eighteen…I plan to do something about those looks.
And I plan to do it well.
Sean came into my life when I was thirteen. A co-worker of my mother’s, he was the one who brought her home the first time she drank too much at their company Christmas party. He never really left after that. I was fine with that fact until he actually went and married my mom.
At thirty-four, my mother isn’t exactly what you’d call ugly, but she just looks…tired. Overworked, underpaid, and exhausted all the time. It’s kind of sad really, since she’d once been the captain of the cheerleading squad at her high school. But getting knocked up at sixteen derailed any chance of her doing much else with her life besides raising a kid and cursing sourly when she saw reruns of Bring It On. She was bitter before I was born, and now she just resembles a girl who used to be pretty with an attitude.
No, I never could understand what the hell this beautiful man saw in her. He was barely twenty-five when he started dating my mom, and every minute of their nine-year age gap was obvious from the start. He loved alternative rock, while she preferred disco. He used to take me to horror movies because she couldn’t sit through them without puking in her popcorn, and he claimed that he’d rather hang himself than go to one of her cheesy ass chick flicks. He quickly became my best friend, my confidante, and the man I lusted after when I realized how ridiculously hot my stepfather…my daddy…truly was.
At six foot four with the body of an Olympic swimmer, and sandy blonde hair that begged me to run my fingers through it, he reminded me of a younger, taller Brad Pitt.
I noticed that Daddy paid more attention to me when I wore something tight or low cut right after my sixteenth birthday. I’m not ashamed to admit that I used it to my advantage more than once. If I wanted to go to a party or somewhere I knew my mother wouldn’t approve of, I simply put on the teal halter-top that brought out the green in my eyes and pushed my tits up to my ears. A little batting of my eyelashes and maybe eating a phallic shaped fruit, and he’d be saying yes before I even asked a question.
He has starred in every single fantasy I’ve had since I first learned to masturbate. I used to pretend that it was his hands caressing my skin, removing my clothing—sometimes gently and sometimes by force…I really liked it when he lost control—and sank his fingers deep into my sopping wet cunt. Just thinking about those nights when I sobbed his name into my pillow as I fucked myself with my fingers or the dildo I bought for my birthday makes my panties damp now.
Guess it’s a good thing I don’t plan on wearing them long anyway.
Rhyann Harris is the alter ego of Paige Prince, erotic romance author, editor, x-ray technologist, drinker of coffee, and binger of Netflix. Based in a suburb of Houston, Texas, Rhyann is happily married to her very own romance hero, and they’re raising their very own little heroine. Or hellraiser. They’re not entirely sure which side she’s chosen yet.
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8103300.Rhyann_Harris