The silk shirt Elias made me wear barely reached mid-thigh. Every time I moved, cool air teased my bare p***y, reminding me I was completely exposed underneath. My n*****s were hard, rubbing against the smooth fabric as I followed him downstairs for breakfast.
I felt dirty. Guilty. But so f*****g turned on I could barely think straight.
Mom had only been gone three weeks, and here I was — letting my wealthy stepfather finger me and use my mouth like a cheap w***e. The shame burned hot in my chest, but it only made my p***y wetter.
Elias sat at the head of the long dining table like a king. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, highlighting his sharp features. He looked calm and composed in his crisp white shirt, but his eyes burned with dark hunger when they landed on me.
“Sit,”
