The morning light filtered through the blinds like a guilty conscience, hitting my face and yanking awake me from a restless sleep.
My body ached in ways that had nothing to do with the mini mart shift...sore thighs, a tender throb between my legs where Jack's c*m had dried sticky on my skin.
I lay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, replaying the night in flashes: his rough hands, the way he'd mistaken me for Mom, the panic of her footsteps, and then...the way I'd wrapped my legs around him, chasing that forbidden high.
What the hell was wrong with me? He was my stepdad, for f**k's sake.
But the heat pooling in my gut said otherwise.
I dragged myself out of bed, pulling on a loose tank top and shorts, avoiding the mirror because I knew my reflection would scream 'guilty.'
