3 – twice as hard
Jake’s POV
The first time we met was at a book signing event. She had looked so downcast, but getting the signature of her favorite erotica author-despite never seeing their face-had filled her
with excitement.
I had watched her talk about the struggles in her family, about how she wished it would all be over but knew nothing would ever change for the better.
I had seen the way her eyes lit up when her favorite author comforted her, the way she held onto hope that there would be another signing event so they could meet again.
And although she wasn’t the only one in that room, I just couldn’t seem to get my mind off her freckles-the way they darkened or lightened depending on her mood. The way her eyes glistened when she got emotional. The way she fought back tears, refusing to break.
I admired her. I appreciated her. And from that day, I became obsessed with her.
It had been six months since then. Despite our interactions, she still hadn’t seen me. Only I knew her name, where she lived, and that made it easier to track her social media, her exact street, her daily routine.
Moving into the house next to hers, getting to know more about her without her ever sensing me-it had been a
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blessing. And a torture.
Because every day, my curiosity grew. I watched her walk to school with a smile, only to return with either a bruise or a look of fear.
I listened as she screamed, shouted, fought back against the toxicity in her home.
I saw how her face lit up every time she spoke to me online. And I just knew.
I had to take action.
I had to turn secrecy into reality.
That was why I did what I did.
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It was necessary to remove the main hindrance. And once he was gone, everything became so much easier.
And when she finally looked at me-really looked at me- without the mask, without the anonymity, and her freckles lightened up… I knew.
This would be a rollercoaster of emotions, but the love and
the connection we shared? That was real.
“Jake! Are you even listening to me? Unstrap the bra!”
Mirabel’s voice cut through my thoughts, startling me. Irritation prickled at my skin. I hated being pulled out of my thoughts. But then I remembered-soon, we would officially become a family. There would be no need to hide under the veil of anonymity just to see her.
I felt better.
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And when I remembered how attracted she was to me-how just the sight of me made her body react-I smiled.
It was all worth it.
Keeping up the act was worth it.
I looked up at Mirabel with my brightest smile as I unhooked her bra and pulled her closer.
“You make me the luckiest woman alive,” she murmured between kisses, her giggles filling the room as I climbed over her body on the bed.
She reached for my shirt, her fingers working the buttons.
“Don’t.”
My refusal came out as a growl. I stopped her hands before they could move any further.
A pout formed on her lips. “You always stop me from
touching your chest. You won’t even let me shower with you,” she whined.
“Babe,” I said, my tone playful but firm. “You said you’d give me time. Are you tired of trusting me now that you’ve moved in? Now that you know you have me wrapped around your finger?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I pulled down her panties and pushed a finger inside her without warning.
Too wide.
I added three more before I could finally feel her walls.
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3 twice as hard
“It’s not that, but-”
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I took one nipple in my mouth, pinching the other between my fingers. Her protests melted into moans.
If hiding my tattoos for now meant keeping her comfortable, then so be it.
It was worth it.
Absolutely worth it.
I pleasured her until she was exhausted. As usual, she fell asleep after just one round.
It wasn’t enough.
It was never enough.
But I never complained. Because she was just a means to an end.
After a quick shower, I picked up my laptop.
Sex had always been a source of inspiration for me as an erotica author.
Even if this particular encounter had been unsatisfying, it still fueled my fantasies-fueled my writing with what I wished it
had been.
Despite writing erotica as a secret hobby, it was the one thing that occupied my mind the most.
It was my passion.
It was also what gave me inspiration for my real job. For real
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life.
“So, what do you do?”
Jemaya’s voice hit me like an angel’s trumpet, pulling me from an abyss I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen into.
We were at the dining table. Mirabel sat across from me, Jemaya to my right. She was so close that our knees brushed whenever she swung her leg.
I could tell she was nervous. Excited. Curious. She pretended to be focused on her plate of spaghetti, but I knew better.
“Table manners, Jemaya,” Mirabel scolded from the other end of the table. “You can’t act like this in public. Must everyone know you were once poor?”
She was so deep in character, so poised, so elegant, that anyone watching would assume she had been born into this life.
But I had watched her. I knew the truth.
And her ability to pretend, to adapt so seamlessly, was what made her perfect for this role.
She would do anything to keep from going back to the life
she hated.
And all I had to do was make sure she locked herself in so tightly that she’d be desperate to hold onto it when the time
came.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
Kenna pouted, lowering her head as she licked an oil stain
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TIL
3-twice as hard
from her lips.
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Her tongue-so red-swept across her lips, leaving behind a sheen of saliva that glistened under the chandelier’s glow.
Something stiffened in my pants.
I
I clenched my thighs together, straightening my back as I tried to ground myself.
I reached for a glass of water, forcing a smile.
“It’s okay, babe,” I said, turning to Mirabel. “It’s okay to be curious in a new place.”
Then, I turned to Jemaya, reaching for her small hand.
The moment our skin touched, I felt the goosebumps spread across her arms.
She stiffened.
Her fork clattered against the plate as she stared down at her food like she had lost control.
I swallowed hard.
Because the second I touched her, I lost control, too.
I burst in my pants.
“I do many things,” I said, squeezing her hand. “But I’m sure you’re more curious about how I managed to afford all this wealth.”
She didn’t look up.
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“Half of it is from my inheritance,” I continued, my grip on her hand tightening as my cock throbbed. “The other half… comes from my secret hobby. I’ll tell you about it another time. Just remind me.”
“It’s fine,” she whispered.
“Did you forget that you’re my stepdaughter now?” I smiled, keeping my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “I’ll do anything for you to accept me as a family member. I love your mom enough to marry her, and I’ll work hard on my feelings for you, too.”
Mirabel, of course, was smiling.
The case was settled.
Now, the only problem was figuring out how to leave the dining room without anyone noticing my predicament.
There was no milk on the table, so I could only hope for a
miracle.
As soon as the last jolt of cum shot out, the lights went out.
Jemaya panicked.
Mirabel shushed her.
But above all, I was grateful.
I cleaned my seat with the tablecloth and excused myself. “I’ll go check it out. Just stay put.”
I lowered my head to give Jemaya a forehead kiss, but in the darkness, my lips landed on the top of her nose.
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3-twice as hard
I tried again.
I kissed her freckles instead.
I gave up and turned on my phone’s flashlight.
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4 – hating on mom
