My Gold-Digger Stepmom

Chapter - 6

She moved slowly, ensuring that her bed wouldn’t make a single sound. She wanted to make sure the danger was gone, that she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. She cautiously peered over the edge of the bunk bed once more.

But she was met with a shock; instead of an empty floor or Henry’s back, she was greeted by a pair of glinting, sharp eyes.

Henry was lying below, his head resting on his own arm like a king resting after a battle. And Ana... Ana was kneeling between Henry’s thighs. In the shadows, Solana saw the movement of Ana’s head—licking and feasting upon Henry’s burning weapon, which seemed as though it hadn't tired at all. It felt as if every stroke of Ana’s tongue was being felt by Solana on her own skin.

Her eyes met Henry’s. In the bright moonlight, Solana saw a mocking smirk form on Henry’s lips. He wasn't surprised to see her. Instead, he gripped Ana’s hair tighter, forcing the maid’s face deeper into his manhood while maintaining a direct, challenging stare into Solana’s eyes.

Solana quickly averted her gaze and lay back down on her stomach. She hugged herself, her heart racing like horses competing in a sprint. She felt as if she had been caught in a great sin, an act of voyeurism that shamed her entire being.

There, under her blanket, she couldn't help but reach for her panties. Her hand trembled as it slowly brushed against the thin fabric. She gasped when she felt the intense slickness and moisture in her center. Her jewel seemed to have its own pulse, demanding attention, as if aching for the pleasure her eyes had just witnessed.

She bit her lower lip hard, until she tasted the slight saltiness of her own sweat. Her entire body felt like it was on fire—a fever brought on by longing. The image of Henry looking at her while being served by Ana played repeatedly in her mind, fueling a forbidden desire she should never have felt for her own stepson.

"Oh, God... please forgive me," she whispered into the dark, but her finger seemed to have a mind of its own as it moved slowly over her womanhood. Every stroke felt like the shadow of Henry’s hand. Every tickle felt like the young man’s mockery.

Solana didn't know how she would face the morning, knowing Henry had caught her watching. Yet every throb of her jewel served as a reminder that on this night, Henry wasn't the only one who had sinned—because in her mind, and in her wet and longing body, she had also surrendered to that man's ferocity. As she closed her eyes, Henry's face was the last thing she saw, along with every thrust he had given Ana earlier. The beauty of his back made her feel as if she were the one being taken; she bit her lower lip as she suddenly found pleasure in her own fingers while stroking her c******s.