Chapter 90: MY STEPSON WANTS ME PART 13

Marie’s POV

The climax slammed into me so hard I screamed, the sound ripping out of my chest before I even knew it was coming. My back arched sharply off the counter, my whole body jerking, trembling, as if I was being electrocuted by pleasure. My hands yanked hard at his hair, but I couldn’t push him away—I couldn’t let him go.

My walls clamped tight around his fingers, pulsing and spasming in waves that felt endless. My legs shook violently, my toes curling until they hurt. My stomach tightened and released again and again, like aftershocks, dragging me through wave after wave of bliss.

It was overwhelming. It was terrifying. It was beautiful.

And it was my first orgasm.

I had never felt anything like it. My cries filled the kitchen, high and broken, shameless, my chest heaving so hard I thought my ribs would crack. My skin burned hot and damp with sweat, my hair sticking to my face as tears slid from the corners of my eyes—not from sadness, but from how strong and consuming it all was.

Jamie didn’t let me go. He kept thrusting his fingers, curling them inside me, stretching out the climax until I thought I couldn’t take anymore. His tongue kept flicking, sucking, licking me through it, dragging me higher even as I fell apart. My body twisted, my thighs clamping around his head, my heels scraping against the counter. My voice shook, crying his name again and again, not even caring how raw and needy I sounded.

I collapsed against the cupboard, my chest pressed to the cold wood, gasping for air, but still the pleasure rolled through me in smaller waves. My body trembled violently, my thighs quivering uncontrollably, my arms weak and shaky. My lips parted, but no words came, only broken whimpers and shallow breaths that shook out of me without control.

When it finally slowed, I sagged completely, boneless, every muscle spent. My hands slipped from his hair and fell uselessly to my sides. My head rolled back, my vision blurry, my chest rising and falling so fast I could hardly keep up.

Jamie finally pulled back, but not before kissing me there one last time, slow and tender, like he was savoring every bit of me. I shivered from the touch, my whole body still buzzing, my mind dazed.

And in the haze of it all, one clear thought cut through the mess in my head—

I had been missing this my whole life.

My whole body was still shaking when it happened.

The sharp sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. The heavy thud of it closing followed, and then the unmistakable sound of shoes being set down on the mat.

My heart froze. My breath caught in my throat.

He was home.

Panic clawed at my chest. I shoved Jamie away, my hands trembling so much I almost pushed too hard. He caught me by the waist to steady me, his strong hands warm and grounding, but I couldn’t let myself melt into them. I had to get down. I had to fix myself.

Jamie understood. He helped me off the counter quickly, his movements quiet but hurried. My legs wobbled when they hit the floor, my knees weak and unsteady, like they didn’t belong to me anymore. I grabbed the counter behind me just to keep standing.

I reached for my skirt, yanking it down in a rush. The fabric felt twisted and crooked, and no matter how much I tugged it, it still felt like it was too short, like it screamed of what had just happened. My panties were gone—ripped away—and that realization only made the fear tighten in my chest.

My blouse had slipped too far down, one strap falling off my shoulder. I pulled it up with shaky fingers, fumbling as my heart pounded louder and louder in my ears. My hair was a mess, strands sticking to the sweat on my neck. I ran my fingers through it quickly, trying to smooth it, trying to make myself look untouched. Normal. Innocent.

Jamie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his jaw tense, his lips still swollen. His chest rose and fell hard, but his face shifted into something calmer, practiced, like he knew he had to hide it. He leaned back against the counter, picking up a knife like he had been chopping vegetables the whole time.

The sound of footsteps came closer, heavy against the wooden floor. I could tell from the rhythm—steady, familiar—that it was him. My husband.

My lungs burned from holding my breath.

I grabbed a glass from the sink just to give my hands something to do. My fingers shook so badly the glass nearly slipped and shattered, but I held on, forcing my breathing to even out.

“Marie?” his voice called from the hallway. “I’m back.”

I froze. He had told me he would be staying late at the office. He had promised me hours alone. So why… why was he back so early?

The doorknob turned. My stomach flipped painfully.

The kitchen door creaked open, and there he was—standing in the doorway, jacket slung over his arm, tie loosened, a frown on his face like something heavy was weighing on him. His eyes flicked to me, then to Jamie, and then back again.

My throat went dry.

I pasted on a smile, thin and shaky, hoping it looked normal. Hoping he couldn’t hear the way my heart was pounding or see the heat still clinging to my skin.