[Kendall]“Elora ?” I ask when Dante puts her on the phone.“Kendall! God, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Elora says, almost in a high-pitched squeal.I wince and move the phone from my face, laughing a little. “It has been a while,” I say.“Are you dying having to hang out with my boring, stupid brother all this time?” she asks.I think about the night before, Camden biting my neck as he thrust into me, and I blush. “He’s not so bad.”Elora scoffs. “You don’t have to lie to me. All he talks about is pussy and crime. It’s annoying.”I swallow hard at her words. Camden hasn’t said anything to me about other women, but I know his reputation. Is it possible that he’s still in contact with some of these women? Surely not, right?“Does he have a girlfriend?” I ask, looking around for Camden. He’s trailed inside, so I can speak freely.Elora snorts. “A girlfriend? Are you crazy? Camden wouldn’t be caught dead in any kind of real commitment.”“Ah,” I say dumbly, not knowing how to resp
[Camden]It’s been two weeks since the call with my sister, and Kendall is still haunted by nightmares, her sleep haunted by the lingering shadows of fear. Tonight, though, felt different—her nightmare was worse, as if it had sunk its claws in deeper. We’d both drifted off on the couch, tangled up in the shared warmth and the gentle rise and fall of each other’s breaths, but she woke gasping, her eyes wide, struggling for air as though drowning in invisible waters.“Principessa?” I murmur, my voice low, trying not to startle her. Her gaze locks onto mine, her brown eyes deep and desperate, glistening with a wild panic that claws at my chest. “Breathe, baby.” I keep my voice steady, soft, and deliberate, hoping she'll mirror me as I draw a slow breath in through my nose, then let it out. It takes a beat, but she catches on, her breaths finally syncing with mine. Her fingers dig into my arms as if I’m the only anchor keeping her from slipping away. “It’s okay, just breathe.”She le
[Camden]“Kendall,” I call, my voice steady but with a touch of urgency. “We need to talk about this. You’ll be safer there.”“I’m safe here!” she insists, her voice defiant, with a hint of desperation. “You take care of me, Camden. You’ve been there since day one.” There’s a weight to her words, an unspoken trust that makes my chest tighten. I watch her, standing a few feet away, the morning light casting a warm glow around her damp hair, the faint scent of her shampoo mingling with the coolness in the room. “I’ll still be around, Kendall,” I say, though the lie tastes bitter. I reach for her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm. “But I can do a lot more in terms of finding him if I’m not locked down here.”To be honest, I haven’t been doing much in the way of looking for Marco. It’s been a while since I called around, reaching out to the guys I used to know, the ones who still run in those circles. My fists clench. Maybe I don’t want this to end. Maybe I don’t want
[Kendall]I’m straightening up and vacuuming inside while Camden cleans out the pool, and I think to myself how domestic we are. The hum of the vacuum fills the room, but underneath, there's a comfortable stillness—a kind of warmth that echoes the quiet intimacy we share. Camden usually makes dinner because I’m simply not that good of a cook, but sometimes I bake cookies or cakes. The smell of vanilla and sugar often lingers in the kitchen, mingling with whatever dish he’s prepared. We watch reality television every week, a show that we both like, and we usually fall asleep on the couch those nights. The weight of his arm draped over me, his warmth against my back, is the last thing I feel before I drift off. If we don’t fall asleep there, we fall asleep after making love, curled into each other, his hand resting possessively on my hip.It’s been three weeks since Camden mentioned taking me to Dante’s, and about six weeks since we went on the run, and I can’t help but wonder what ha
[Kendall]“Don’t leave so soon, fatty,” he mumbles against my ear, his breath hot and sour on my neck, sending a shiver of revulsion through me. His hand moves up, rough fingers grazing my skin before his forearm presses against my throat. My vision darkens at the edges, and panic explodes inside me. He’s going to strangle me, and the realization hits like ice in my veins.I do the only thing I can think of. I bite him, sinking my teeth into his skin until I taste iron, bitter and metallic. He yelps, his grip loosening just enough for me to stumble forward, the world spinning as I barely manage to keep my balance. I feel something hot streak past my cheek, a sharp sting flaring as it slices my skin, but I don’t have time to think about it. I just need to get out of here. Now.I yank the sliding door open, heart pounding, my breath coming in panicked gasps. I hear his heavy footsteps right behind me, and just as I’m about to scream, a cold, unyielding metal presses against my cheek.I
I only let Kendall rest for a few moments after my breakdown, grabbing the two bug-out bags that I’ve stashed in the pantry in the kitchen. The sound of the zipper tearing through the silence feels deafening, my movements sharp, driven by urgency. The cool metallic pull of the bag in my hands contrasts with the warmth of the dimly lit room, which suddenly feels stifling. There’s so much we’ll have to leave behind, but I don’t care. The air tastes bitter, like regret, and I shove it aside, focusing on the task. I walk into the bedroom, my footsteps muffled by the worn carpet. Kendall has her eyes closed, her lashes casting shadows against her pale cheeks. The dark bruises beneath them look like smudged ink, sharp against her too-fair skin. “We have to go, *principessa*,” I say softly, my voice catching on the last syllable. She stirs, slowly sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed. The mattress creaks faintly, a reminder of the fragile moment we’re in. She rises cautiously, f
He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He’s probably had many guns stuck in his face before. The tension in the room is thick, the muted sound of Kendall’s breathing the only thing breaking the silence. “This the patient?” he asks, gesturing toward Kendall. I nod, my throat tight, and Jimmy steps toward her, his leather bag creaking softly as he sets it down. His sharp eyes scan her injuries—the awkward angle of her shoulder, the stark white bandage standing out against her cheekbone like a brand. “It’s my shoulder,” she says, her voice soft but steady, though I can see the strain behind it. “And your cheek,” he comments. His voice is calm, almost clinical, as if assessing injuries is as routine as brushing his teeth. “Let’s get that shoulder stabilized, and then we’ll see if you need stitches, yeah?” Jimmy kneels beside her and takes her left hand gently, his fingers surprisingly delicate for a man who looks like he’s seen his fair share of bar fights. She winces—j
[Kendall]Camden looks at me, shocked, his face paling, and then he just stands up and walks out of the room. He doesn’t say a word to me, and I don’t follow.My head is spinning from the drugs and the trauma and the shock of Jimmy telling me that I’m pregnant.He said there was no way to tell how far along I am without ultrasound equipment, but I haven’t been with anyone else for years, and I know the baby I’m carrying is Camden's. He must know it, too, because he hasn’t questioned me.I was happy at first, almost felt giddy.Jimmy was just looking at me with intense blue eyes.“Are you okay?” he asked.“What?” I felt out of it from the drugs, like this might be a dream I was having.“Do you want to...take care of it? I have my ways,” he said mysteriously, and I shook my head, shocked.“No. No, I want...I want the baby,” I said finally.He nodded. “Then I’ll leave these prenatal vitamins. Take them every day, and do your best to keep things down. I’ll leave some nausea medication, to
I pause for a beat. He knows about it, of course, because he pays for it. It just seems like an out of the blue question. “About a year,” I answer.“And you take it every day? The way you’re supposed to?”“Yes.”He strokes harder, faster, his eyes glazed and distant as he looks at me. “That’s good. And when you had sex with Dante, where did he come? Inside of you?”“Yes.” For some reason, this line of questioning makes me nervous, like I might be in trouble. Lines seem blurred. But there’s an urgency to Xavier’s question; thinking about it is turning him on. “But in a condom,” I add.“That’s good,” he breathes, voice quivering. “That’s good, baby.” His brow furrows deeply, as if he’s in pain, and his breath starts coming in hard, rough pants. “Show me how good your tits feel. Squeeze them for me. Let me see you play with them.”Lifting my hands, I cup each one, rubbing and massaging them while my stepfather stares with rapt attention. I have a terrible thought, a thought I feel guilty
Hazeli wake up what feels like hours later. The lamp is still on, and Xavier and I are both sprawled out on our backs, asleep for who knows how long. My t-shirt is pulled up, Xavier’s cum drying on my breasts, and he’s naked from the waist down. If Melanie were to walk in, there would certainly be no way to hide what we were doing.I wonder idly if she could have heard anything through the wall. The house has remarkable soundproofing, but the low, guttural roar Xavier gave as he came would be unmistakable if she heard it. I kind of hope she did, I think meanly. It would serve her right to find out that I’m fucking her husband.Although… Her husband. I hate to think of Xavier that way. He’s mine in every way. Every way…except one.The sex I had with Dante last summer felt good at the time, even though it seemed like I couldn’t get the rhythm quite right, and I definitely didn’t come. But being penetrated, having a man inside of me, was a kind of pleasure I hadn’t expected—like it fulf
It’s a risky thing to say, a risky kink every time I try it out, but Hazel only flashes me a naughty look. “I don’t care,” she answers defiantly, giving my cock a squeeze.Dirty girl.She grips the shaft of my cock, rubbing her hand up and down over the fabric of my pants while I lie still, breathing heavily as she gets me erect. She releases her grip, running fingers lightly up my length and wriggling her hand under my waistband until I can feel her skin against mine. Her hand is warm and soft as she encircles my hard cock again and starts stroking it.She’s so good at making me come already. So good at taking my cock. I’m pleased and oddly proud that she’s learned so much about what I like so quickly. What she hasn’t learned yet, though, is how much her pleasure is a part of my arousal. Knowing I can make my stepdaughter come, when no one ever has before, gets me harder than anything.“Has anyone ever licked your pussy before?” I ask quietly, combing my fingers through the hair at h
“Of course,” I answer quietly.“Please!” adds Melanie. “It’s good vibes only at this table. We don’t need your mopey energy.”I keep an eye on Hazel as she climbs the stairs, wondering if letting her mother stay here is the best thing for her after all. Melanie was never a great parent to Hazel, but it seems like since she’s come back she’s worse. She ignores Hazel or treats her as an unwelcome stranger. It’s as if the minute Hazel turned eighteen—or rather, shortly before she turned eighteen, when she decided to leave her and go to New Mexico—Melanie just washed her hands of her daughter.Downstairs on the sectional after dinner, I toss and turn. I spent as much time cleaning the kitchen after dinner as I could tolerate, Melanie drinking wine and yapping at me the entire time. When I couldn’t take it anymore I told her I was going to bed and she gave an exaggerated pout.“I thought we could talk, Xavi About things.”“About money, you mean,” I’d responded bitterly. “You’re not getting
For a terrifying moment, I think it’s an accusation, but then I see the imploring look on her face, and understand the innocence of the question. It’s just Melanie performing jealousy to try to get her own way. She could care less if there’s someone else sharing my bed.“Maybe there is,” I tease. “This isn’t like before, Mel. I’m done.”She tilts her head and traces a finger over her shoulder, deliberately drawing the other strap of her tank top down. Her breasts, still full and round without a bra on, are temptingly obvious under the skimpy shirt. “How about a final hurrah, then? For old time’s sake?”“No. I said I’m done. Go back downstairs.”She pouts, rolling her head back in frustration. The gesture is so like Hazel it makes me ache for her. Then she flounces back over to the bed and throws herself down on the unoccupied side. Her side.“I can’t sleep downstairs, Xavi It’s too quiet. And you’re going to wake me up when you start using all that heavy gym equipment. Can’t I just sl
Her voice is a warm, honeyed purr, and in the pale light filtering through the curtains I can just make out to her long, wild curls.“Baby,” I respond, grateful and relieved.She giggles and climbs onto the bed, straddling me in the darkness, and I reach for her legs, finding the firm, muscled flesh of bare thighs and running my hands up towards her hips. She feels good. The heat and pressure of her body against mine makes my cock thicken.“Mm,” she murmurs, rolling her hips against me and trailing her fingers down my arms. Her forwardness surprises me. Hazel’s usually a bit more shy, but I like it. After the stress of the evening, I need her touch, need her closeness.“Sweetheart,” I groan, squeezing my eyes closed and lifting my hips up against her. The pressure of her body, and the friction of the covers as they slide against the underside of my hard cock makes me shiver. I slide my fingers further up her thigh, underneath flimsy fabric, until I’m cupping her bare ass. I dig my fin
Dinner is predictably awful. Xavier sets the pizza box on the table with three plates and opens a beer. It doesn’t escape my notice that he doesn’t offer Melanie one.We sit in our usual spots: Xavier and I across from each other, and Melanie at the head, and the mood around the table is disjointed and weird. There’s a heavy energy between Xavier and I. We’re stilted and silent. But Melanie is completely indifferent. She’s positively incandescent as she talks about how great it is for the three of us to be back together again, and how New Mexico was just “faaabulous!”“You would love New Mexico!” is the first thing she says to me when we sit down at the table—as if I had the opportunity to go and opted out. “For an artist like you, it’s so inspirational. I swear I did some of my best painting work out there. Oh! I need to show you The Faces of Love. That’s what I call it. It’s a painting of Cathedral Cliff—get it? Rock faces?”I don’t react at all, and I don’t have to. Melanie doesn’t
HazelI lower myself slowly onto the couch, too stunned to know what to do. From downstairs, I can hear my parents’ voices, which means they’re being loud—the house is so soundproof.Melanie’s here. She’s back. And I have no idea what that even means.Are we supposed to go back to the way things were before?The doorbell rings again, and it takes me a minute to even remember that we’ve ordered a pizza. It feels like hours have passed since Melanie arrived at the door. It feels like years since Xavier picked me up from school, his eyes dark with lust, asking to see my panties.This past month with Xavier has been the best month of my life. For the first time ever, I truly had Xavier all to myself. In the past, Melanie was always on the horizon. Even if she was off on one of her ‘sprees,’ cheating on Xavier with some dirtbag, he was still distracted and distant, his thoughts and energy still pulled in her direction. But this time, creating a naughty, secret world of pleasure together, i
“Of course I do! She’s my daughter.” For a moment, I almost believe her. For a moment, I’m almost relieved to think that she might actually love Hazel after all.“But I’ve been going through a lot,” she continues, and the illusion shatters. Melanie doesn’t care about anybody but herself. “I’ve been going through a lot, but I’m doing the work, you know? I’m figuring a lot of stuff out. Stuff that I wish I could have figured out a long time ago, so that I never would have hurt you the way I did. I wish, I mean…I wish I could undo those things, Xavi I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”I don’t say anything. Months ago, I wanted to hear those exact words more than anything. Despite everything that had happened, shortly after Melanie left, all I wanted was for her to come back. I had delusional notions about how we could rescue our relationship, how the cheating would stop if I could just understand her better, if I could just love her harder.But eventually I realized that life without Mel