Calder's POV

She hasn't left my mind since that night. One accidental step through an open door. One frozen heartbeat where our eyes locked and the world narrowed to the sound of her quick, startled inhale. Now every quiet moment is infected with her, Greer.

The way her gaze dropped to my cock, lingered long enough to sear the image into me, then snapped away like she'd been caught in something criminal. The flush that climbed her throat in slow, guilty waves. The soft hitch in her breath that echoed in my chest for hours afterward. 

I've told myself a hundred times it means nothing. Biology. A man's body reacting to proximity, to youth, to the sheer wrongness of the situation. She's eighteen. My son's soon-to-be stepsister. My fiancée's daughter. The lines couldn't be drawn any sharper, any more final. And yet. 

Dinner that evening was unbearable. The long mahogany table gleamed under the chandelier's low, golden light. Veda sat to my right in emerald silk that caught every flicker, chatting brightly about seating charts, champagne vintages, and the string quartet she'd finally booked. Wells lounged across from her, half-distracted by whatever notification lit up his phone screen. Indira beside him, her posture perfect, smile polished, every movement calculated for maximum elegance. 

And Greer, directly opposite me, head lowered, fork tracing invisible, endless patterns through the remnants of her risotto. I tried not to look. I failed spectacularly. 

Every time my eyes lifted from my plate they found her. The delicate column of her throat when she swallowed. The faint shadow her lashes cast across her cheeks. The way her lips parted slightly on each quiet, shallow breath. I imagined. Jesus Christ! 

Forgive me!

Those lips parting wider. Gasping my name. Wrapped around the length of me while her eyes watered and her hands gripped my thighs. The thought hit like a fist to the gut. I forced conversation to drown it.

"Wells," I said, voice steadier than I felt. "Practice went well today?" He glanced up, surprised I'd addressed him directly. "Yeah. The coach is coaching me for the next game."

"Good. Consistency matters more than talent at your level." Veda laughed lightly, touching my forearm. "Always the strategist, darling. Even at dinner."

I offered a tight smile that felt more like a grimace. Greer stayed silent through the exchange. Her eyes flicked up once. It was wide, startled, like she'd been caught listening to something she shouldn't. And then dropped again. Her fingers tightened on her fork until her knuckles paled white against the silver. She dropped it immediately and excused herself. I tried small talk with Indira next. Weather in the city. Her upcoming university applications. 

Safe, neutral topics that should have anchored me. None of it worked. My pulse stayed too high, my thoughts too low. Under the table my thigh tensed rhythmically, remembering the exact second her gaze had landed between my legs that night, how she'd frozen, how her pupils had blown wide, how she hadn't immediately looked away. I excused myself before dessert was cleared.

The hallway felt longer than usual, shadows stretching across the marble like fingers. My study door stood open, light spilling warm into the corridor, but I didn't go in. My feet carried me instead to the guest wing. To her door. I stopped outside it. This was madness.

I command boardrooms full of men twice my age. I close deals worth billions without breaking a sweat. Control is not something I possess, it's who I am. Yet here I stood, heart hammering, seconds from knocking because I couldn't erase the memory of her eyes on my cock, the way her breath had caught, the way her body had betrayed the same forbidden curiosity I felt burning through me. I raised my fist to knock. 

Lowered it. Raised it again. Then I heard the music. Low. Sultry. Bass thrumming through the wood like a second heartbeat. I shouldn't have looked. I pushed the door open an inch. Just enough. Greer stood in the center of the room, back to me, wireless headphones on, eyes closed. Tiny sleep shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass. Thin tank top clinging to the dip of her waist and the gentle swell of her breasts. Her hips rolled slowly, deliberately, following the rhythm of whatever filthy track was playing. 

Arms lifted, fingers threading through her hair, body swaying like she was alone in the universe, innocent yet achingly sensual. The way her ass flexed with each slow grind. The subtle bounce of her breasts beneath cotton. The arch of her back when she dipped low and rose again. I couldn't breathe properly.

My cock thickened instantly, it was hard, aching, straining against wool in seconds. She spun. Our eyes met. She froze mid-motion. Headphones slipped down to hang around her neck. Music leaked out-slowly, explicit lyrics about craving what's forbidden, about bodies that shouldn't touch but do anyway.

"Mr. Rhys," she whispered. 

Shocked. Voice trembling at the edges. 

I turned to leave.

"Calder-wait!" Her bare feet slapped the floor as she ran after me. I should have kept walking but I didn't. She reached for my arm and she missed it. She stumbled on the edge of the rug.

She fell forward. Straight into me. Her cheek landed against the front of my slacks. Right over the thick, straining ridge of my erection. 

Time fractured. Her breath came hot through the fabric. Once. Twice. A soft, startled sound slipped from her throat-not quite a gasp, not quite a moan, but something dangerously close to both. I went rigid. Every muscle locked.

She didn't pull away. Neither did I.

Her hands braced on my thighs, fingers digging in, feeling the tremor that ran through me. Her face stayed pressed to me, nose brushing the hard length, lips so close I could feel the damp heat of her mouth seeping through wool.

My hand moved slowly, involuntarily and settled on the back of her head. Not pushing. Not pulling. Just resting. Feeling the silk of her hair. Feeling her shiver under my palm.

"Greer," I said. Voice gravel. Barely recognizable as my own. She didn't move.

Her breath puffed again, deliberate now. Warm. Teasing. Her cheek nuzzled, just the slightest shift against the bulge, I sucked in air through clenched teeth. She lifted her head slowly. Eyes wide. Pupils blown dark. Lips parted. Cheeks scarlet.

Our gazes locked. Hers dropped to my mouth, then lower. To where her face had just rested. To where I throbbed visibly for her.

"I-" she started.

"Don't," I cut in. Rougher than I intended. "Don't apologize." 

She swallowed. The sound is loud in the quiet hall.

We stayed like that, hand still tangled in her hair. Neither of us is moving to break the contact. The air between us crackled, thick with everything we weren't saying, everything we shouldn't want.

Her fingers flexed on my thighs. Then one hesitant inch higher. Grazing the base of my cock through fabric. I shuddered. Hard. She felt it. Her eyes flicked up again searching, daring, a spark of something reckless in them. I didn't step back. 

I didn't pull her up. I simply stood there, letting her feel me. Letting her see exactly what she'd done. Her tongue darted out, wet her bottom lip in one slow, deliberate swipe. The sight snapped something low and primal in my gut. 

My thumb brushed once, barely against the nape of her neck.

She shivered harder. Nipples peaked visibly against her thin tank top.

Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved away.

The hallway stayed silent except for our breathing, ragged, uneven, perfectly matched.

I knew I should stop this. I knew I should walk out that door and never look back. But my hand stayed in her hair. And she stayed on her knees.

Pressed against me. 

Waiting.

Greer's POV

I didn't expect him to stay. 

Ater I fell, my cheek pressed hot and trembling against the thick, straining bulge in his slacks. I braced for the inevitable: the sharp step back, the muttered apology laced with regret, the door closing behind him as he fled down the hall. I braced for shame to crash over me like cold water, leaving me kneeling alone on the rug with my face burning and my heart in pieces. He didn't move. Neither did I.

My hands stayed braced on his thighs, fingers sinking into firm muscle that quivered beneath my palms like taut wire about to snap. His cock throbbed against my cheek through the wool hard, insistent, alive in a way that made my own pulse stutter. His hand remained in my hair: heavy, warm, fingers loosely threaded as though he were caught between cradling me and holding himself back from something irreversible. Maybe he was afraid to grip too tight. Maybe he was afraid to let go at all.

My breath came in shallow, uneven puffs that fogged the dark fabric. Once. Twice. On the third exhale I nuzzled, just the smallest, most tentative shift of my cheek against him. He twitched violently in response. A low, broken sound tore from his throat, half groan, half surrender.

"Greer," he rasped. His voice was wrecked, gravel dragged over silk. "We can't."

The words sounded more like a plea than a command. But he didn't pull away. I lifted my head slowly, lashes fluttering as I looked up at him through the dim lamplight. His eyes were nearly black-pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of winter blue remained. His jaw was clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek like a countdown. He looked like a man at war with every rule he'd ever lived by. 

And he was losing. My fingers trembled as I reached up again. Grazed the front of his slacks, light at first, exploratory, then firmer. Cupping the full, heavy length of him through the layers. He shuddered hard enough that I felt it ripple through his entire frame. His hips jerked forward once, unconscious, needy, then stilled as though he'd shocked himself.

"Has anyone ever touched you like this?" I whispered, voice barely audible over the pounding in my ears. 

"When you were trying so hard not to want it?"He exhaled through his nose, rough, ragged. "Don't."

But his hand tightened in my hair. Not pushing me away. Guiding me closer until my lips hovered a breath away from the straining outline. 

I rose higher on my knees, enough to press my open mouth over the fabric. Warm breath seeped through wool. He groaned low, guttural, the sound vibrating straight down my spine to pool hot and liquid between my thighs. I was soaked. Aching. My tiny sleep shorts clung uncomfortably to my folds, every throb of want echoing the insistent pulse against my lips. 

My nipples strained painfully against the thin cotton of my tank top, begging for friction I didn't dare give myself yet. I fumbled with his belt. The metal buckle clinked softly in the quiet room, too loud, too intimate. Zipper rasped down with agonizing slowness. I tugged the waistband of his boxers low enough for him to spring free. Thick. Veined. The head flushed a deep, angry plum and already glistening at the slit. Precum beaded there, catching the low golden light like liquid amber. 

The sight made my mouth water. I stared, memorizing every ridge, every subtle curve, the way the thick vein along the underside pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Then I leaned in.

My tongue flicked out first, a slow, deliberate circle around the swollen head. Salty. Hot. Pure him.

Calder sucked in a sharp, hissing breath. His free hand shot out and braced against the wall above my head, knuckles whitening as though he needed the solid surface to keep from collapsing. I took him deeper. Lips stretching wide around his girth. Tongue flattening along the underside, tracing that prominent vein as I slid down. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked gently at first, savoring the weight of him on my tongue, then harder. 

Bobbing slow. Letting him feel every slick drag, every teasing swirl. "Fuck," he breathed. The word cracked open, raw and reverent.

His hips rocked, shallow, testing the waters. Then deeper. Fucking my mouth in careful, measured thrusts that grew less measured with every pass. Control fraying at the edges.

I moaned around him-low, needy. The vibration ripped another curse from his chest, rough, ragged. His hand in my hair guided now, gently but firmly, setting a rhythm that made my scalp tingle. I took him to the back of my throat. Gagged once, softly, reflexively and then relaxed, breathing through my nose as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. 

Drool slipped down my chin in thin, glistening trails. I didn't care. I wanted to be messy for him. Marked by him. He was moaning freely now, low, broken sounds that tore from deep in his chest like he couldn't hold them back anymore. 

"Greer... Christ... just like that... fuck, sweetheart..." The endearment was soft, accidental and it sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through me. My free hand wrapped around the base, stroking what my mouth couldn't reach. Twisting gently on the upstroke. Matching the slide of my lips until we found a perfect, filthy sync.

His thighs trembled under my palms. Abs clenched so tight the ridges stood out in sharp relief beneath his open shirt. His breath came in short, desperate pants that matched the frantic beat of my own heart. I felt powerful. Worshipped. Wanted in a way I'd never been. It was raw, desperate, undeniable. 

He swelled thicker against my tongue. Hotter. Closer. So close. I sucked harder. Faster. Hollowed my cheeks until my jaw ached sweetly. Tongue swirling relentlessly over the sensitive head on every withdrawal. His moans turned desperate, raw, unrestrained. Fingers fisting tighter in my hair. Hips snapping forward in shallow, helpless thrusts.

Then, a knock. It was sharp. On the door. We both froze. My mouth still wrapped around him, lips stretched wide, throat full, tongue pressed flat to the pulsing vein underneath. His cock throbbed once, it became hard, warning against the roof of my mouth.

Another knock. Softer this time.

"Greer?" Veda's voice drifted through the wood, muffled, impatient, edged with irritation. 

"Are you awake? I need to talk about tomorrow's schedule."

Calder's hand fisted tighter in my hair and for one heartbeat like he might yank me off, might end this before it consumed us both. 

He didn't. Instead his hips rocked forward, just once. It was shallow, needy and pushing deeper until the head nudged the back of my throat again. I moaned around him softly and muffled the sound vibrating straight through his length.

He bit out a curse under his breath. Low. Desperate. I was almost in pain. Veda knocked again.

"Greer?" Neither of us answered.

We were too far gone.

His other hand dropped to my shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise. Holding me exactly where he needed me. His hips moved again, slowly, deliberately, fucking my mouth like the interruption had never happened, like the only reality that existed was the wet heat of my mouth and the desperate sounds he couldn't stop making. I took it. Took all of him. Eyes streaming. Throat working around his thickness. Hands braced on his trembling thighs.

The knock became intense. It got louder.. 

The door stayed closed. Calder's moans started again. It was quieter now, but no less wrecked. Hoarse. Broken. Beautiful. He was close.

So close that I tasted him flooding my mouth, the stretch of my lips, the way he held me like I was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.

We didn't stop.

Just then......

Greer's POV

The door knob swung. We both froze in shock as she wouldn't stop. It was like mom was waiting for it to open but good thing the door could only open automatically from inside. No one can open it from outside except the code was used and she barely even knows her way here not to talk of knowing a code.

I didn't bother getting up at all. I still had my stepfather's veiny cock right in my hand. I also stared at the door at the same time. I couldn't care less. I kept pumping his hard length hoping my mom would just leave and give us some time to ourselves but she won't stop twisting the knob. Goodness. 

Next minute, it seemed like my good looking stepfather doesn't give a shit. Despite knowing it was my mom at the door trying to get in, he still wanted to voice out his pleasure. He threw his head back, holding back his moans and I made sure that this time his huge member was hitting the back of my throat. 

Just as a moan was about to erupt out of his lips, I hurriedly covered his lips with mine. Our tongues rolling and saliva mixing like our lives depended on it. He kept moaning through the kisses and that was better. I wasn't going to let her ruin my chances with him. He makes me feel so different. I have never felt like this ever since I started hanging out. 

I deepened the kiss so well that I was going to never let him expose us. 

I pulled away from him and he moaned softly. 

"Fucking shit...Greer, you are so good." 

I smiled. As I carried on, my mom won't stop trying to get in. Was she drunk? Why was she looking for me so badly just now that I am having a chance with him? Why does she always have to ruin things for me? Why was she so persistent? Doesn't she have anything to do at all? 

This time she wasn't trying to twist the knob. She was using her voice. 

"Greer.... open the door....will you? Hey, you can't just keep me waiting here at all" Her voice echoed behind the door..

I almost scoffed. She couldn't even ask me if I was okay at all. She had never, for once, asked me if I was okay. Everything had always been about her. I rolled my eyes. This is why I haven't supported this marriage in the first place. One minute, I am telling her what other people think about her and another minute I am trying to give her my support and blessing which I can't just do yet. Was I an Angel supporting her or a devil trying to keep them apart at the cost of my own pleasure? 

What the fuck is wrong with me? 

Maybe this was me finding my escape route after being trapped.

I suddenly stopped after noticing that he was really getting into it. I dropped him and stood on my feet.

"What if she already heard us? What if she had been around and she suspected something?" 

"Are you ever going to pick me at all? Between me and her, who are you going to pick?" 

Calder opened his mouth to say something. "I...what if...no...I...don't think so...but what if..." he trailed off, running his hands through his hair. 

Fucking shit. 

"Shit! Just forget it. I was never an option at all." 

I knew that right from the onset. What was I even thinking in the first place? Huh? That he was going to make a decision and choose me? Hell no. This is reality. He would choose Veda without thinking about anything. 

"I have an idea. Let's go through the backdoor. There's a door that links yours to my room." He suggested and we took that idea immediately. I was already into him that I didn't think it twice despite he hasn't answered my question. I grabbed my tank top and followed him as he led me out. There was truly a back door that linked me to his room. He knew what he was doing. Keeping me next to him. It's better that way. If she walked in on us in that position, I should just consider myself gone. My life is already a nightmare. 

Getting to his room, I couldn't even wait at all. I dropped on my knees and got the hold of his eight inch cock in my hand. This time I wasn't going to take it easy on him. I kept pumping in, sucking him so hard like my life depended on it. He must be wondering where I learned that skill from. He must be wondering if I was a whore or slut. 

I was about to show him what I will fully do to him but then his stupid phone started ringing. 

I didn't want him to pick it up but I guess the pleasure hadn't gotten to his head that much. He grabbed my shoulders and slightly pulled me away. 

"Fuck!" I cursed under my breath. 

Stupid phone. 

I rolled my eyes as I watched him cover up and grabbed his phone. He answered his call but I didn't bother to wait. I don't care who is calling him. I used that chance to sneak out through his back door. This time around. I didn't know he had another back door that led through the hallway. Maybe this was the wrong one. And of course I was right. I turned around just to see that it was only his room on that path of the hallway..

I cursed through my breath. The hallway was dark but I could fathom that it was a long hallway. But why was his room the only one on this hallway? Well what was I expecting? He was the boss of the house. He could do whatever that he wanted. Fear gripped me as the thought that someone or my mom would catch me in this hallway knowing that it only led to one place. 

Calder's room. 

What the hell was I going to tell them? I sucked in my lower lips with my hands trembling in fear. 

Why had I not thought of this before? Goodness. This is a dead end. I can't start explaining myself to anyone. I wasn't good at lying. I just hope I was not going to get caught. 

Shit. 

Veda mustn't catch me here either. She will suspect immediately. She doesn't waste time. 

Enough of the talk. I have to start going. 

Just as I stepped outside the hallway, I froze instantly. 

Someone was standing there in the dark.