My Gold-Digger Stepmom

Chapter - 7

The sunlight streaming through the large windows of the dining hall failed to provide any warmth to Solana. Instead, she seemed to feel even colder as she sat across the long table. At the end of the table sat Freddie in his wheelchair. His skin was as pale as paper, and every breath was accompanied by a faint wheeze—a reminder that death was just standing behind him, waiting for the right timing. Despite his weakness, the old man's eyes were still full of love every time he looked at Solana.

"Eat plenty, Solana... it seems you didn't get any sleep," Freddie said softly.

Before Solana could answer, she heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Her heart suddenly raced. The anxiety she felt last night was here again.

"Good morning, Dad," Henry greeted him. His voice was full and baritone, a far cry from his father’s weakening voice.

Henry sat across from Solana, making his handsomeness even more visible, but to Solana, it was as if she were looking at the devil. Henry’s eyes landed on her—a quick but scrutinizing look that felt as though he were stripping her naked in front of her husband.

Ana arrived carrying a pitcher of fresh juice. Solana noticed a slight redness on the maid's neck, marks left by Henry last night. Solana looked away, her fingers tightly gripping the table napkin under the table. She remembered her own fingers last night, the stickiness, and the shameful moan she let out while staring at Henry and Ana.

"How was your sleep in the servants' quarters, Solana? Wasn't it too noisy? Sometimes, the wood in this mansion... groans because of how old it is."

Solana choked slightly. She quickly drank some water, forcing herself to calm down.

"It was fine, Henry. It’s quieter there, but later I will be sleeping in my and my husband’s room," she answered.

A mocking smirk formed on Henry’s lips.

"Really? I thought you were disturbed. It’s hard to stop things that want to break free, right?"

Freddie looked at the two of them, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, Dad," Henry replied, glancing at Solana with a teasing look. "I’m just telling Mommy that it looks like she discovered many things last night that were new to her sight."

"I’m sorry, wife. Henry said he would sleep in my room last night because he wanted to make up for lost time," Freddie said.

"It’s okay, my hubby," she replied to her husband with a smile. Then she looked at Henry, whose jaw was clenched; she figured he was thinking again about how she manipulated his father with her sweetness.

When the meal was finished, Ana assisted Freddie back to his room for his medicine, leaving Solana and Henry alone in the vast dining area.

Solana stood up to leave, but before she could take a step, Henry quickly blocked her path. He pinned her against the wall, his arms trapping her on both sides.

"What do you want?" Solana hissed in a whisper, struggling to hide the trembling in her voice.

"You still have the nerve to stare at me after what you did last night," Henry whispered close to her ear. His hot breath brought back the electricity Solana felt in her core. "Did you enjoy what you watched? Or did you enjoy what you were doing to yourself more while I was watching you?"

Solana turned pale. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don't lie to me, gold digger," Henry roughly grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. "I saw you. I saw how you were playing with yourself while imagining that I was the one doing that to you. You’re filthy, Solana. You pretend to be a saint in front of Dad, but deep down, you’re worse than those women for hire."

In her extreme shame and anger, Solana quickly slapped Henry. But the young man grew angrier and pressed her harder against the wall so that no matter how she moved, she couldn't escape.

Without warning, Henry lunged at her neck like a vampire.

"Do you want to try again? Do you want to feel a real pounding instead of just your fingers making you itch?"

"Let me go, Henry... please," Solana sobbed.

"No!"

"What do you want? Let me go!" Solana hissed in a whisper. She tried to hide the trembling of her voice, but her rapid breathing betrayed her.

Henry didn't answer. Instead, he buried his face in the curve of Solana's neck. Henry’s hot breath hit her skin, causing goosebumps she couldn't stop. Solana felt the slow press of Henry’s lips against her neck. It wasn't a violent kiss, but a seductive stroke followed by a wet and warm tongue that seemed to savor every fiber of her being.

"Stop it, Henry... or else... I’ll scream," Solana threatened, though her voice was like a mere sob. Her hands resting on Henry's chest, which were intended to push him away, were slowly losing their strength. The firmness of Henry's chest and the scent of his perfume were like a ribbon gradually binding her sanity.

A cynical grin drew across Henry's lips while he remained at her neck.

"Scream, Solana. Scream. Call Dad. Let’s see if that old man in the wheelchair can save his holy wife from my hands."

With every word Henry spoke, his hands became more daring. One of his palms held Solana's waist tightly, while the other began to travel—from her shoulder, slowly down the curve of her back, until Solana felt his touch on her hip.

"Don't... don't do this," Solana pleaded, but her body was betraying her. With every touch of Henry's skin, it felt as if electricity was flowing through her veins—a confusing sensation that mixed with her fear. Why, despite this man's evil personality, was her body seemingly drifting along? Why did she seem to like the danger Henry brought?

"You're brave enough to refuse, but your body is lying," Henry whispered, his voice deep and full of mockery. Henry licked her ear as his hand held her breast and gently massaged it. From her ear, Henry immediately leaned down, simultaneously lifting her blouse and lowering her bra, and without hesitation, he clamped his mouth onto her breast. She gripped his polo shirt. She felt the weakness in her knees from the intense tickling and pleasure brought by Henry’s sinful tongue. If she weren't leaning against the wall and held by Henry, she might have collapsed to the floor.

In a daring move, Henry slid his hand under Solana’s pajamas. His fingers crawled over the smooth skin of the woman’s thigh, upward, toward her womanhood.

Solana flinched. Her eyes squeezed shut, her head leaning back against the wall as her breathing became fast and shallow. Henry closed his eyes tightly and sucked even harder on her breast like a starving infant, making it impossible for Solana to keep from letting out a stifled groan.

"Henry... p-please..."

A low curse escaped Henry’s lips when his fingers felt the wetness and slickness between Solana’s thighs. His eyes darkened with a mix of triumph and intense desire.

Henry’s hand did not stop. His fingers made provocative movements that sent new jolts of electricity through Solana’s body. Every stroke felt like a promise of pleasure that had long been denied to her.

Suddenly, Henry fingered her, causing her to cry out in pain.

“Why?” Henry asked wonderingly. But she couldn't bring herself to say that she was still a virgin.

“It hurts...” she confessed.

Henry didn't speak; instead, he simply toyed with her c**t, and she gasped at the pleasure. Henry, meanwhile, returned to nursing at her breast while his hand continued to bring bliss to her womanhood.

When Henry felt that Solana was nearing her peak and was already clinging to him tightly—a sign that she was about to come.

“Ohhh, Henry…” Solana moaned in extreme ecstasy. But instead of continuing, Henry suddenly stopped and let go of her.

Solana’s eyes snapped open, and she immediately pulled her clothes down, gasping for breath. Henry smirked at her as he licked his own fingers, which had just come from inside her panties.

“F*ck yourself, woman!”