Sarah had been home for three days, and For Mia, every interaction with her mother was a reminder of the secret she carried—a secret that pulsed in her chest and throbbed between her thighs.
The growth spurt had finally plateaued, but the sensitivity had remained. Her breasts were now full, heavy mounds that seemed to command the attention of every room she entered. They were no longer just aching; they were craving.
Mia stood in the kitchen, pouring a glass of iced tea, her thin summer dress clinging to her curves. She could feel Elias watching her from the living room. He wasn't saying anything, but the weight of his gaze was almost physical, a warm pressure that made her n*****s harden instantly against the fabric.
"Is the tea cold enough, sweetheart?" Sarah asked, walking into the
