Christmas Revenge: Become My Bully's Step-Mum

Chapter 6: The last knot on the yacht

Emma’s POV

Brittany’s face drained of color. “You lying little—”

“Suite 12,” I continued, leaning in until our noses nearly touched. “He had me bent over, skirt around my waist, c**k so deep I could feel it in my throat. Came inside me thrice—twice with the knot locking us together, once down my throat while I swallowed every drop. Said I was the best f**k of his life.” I smiled. “Want more details? I can be very… thorough.”

Brittany’s mouth opened, closed, opened again—no sound. Her hands trembled at her sides.

I set the rag down and stepped out from behind the bar, slow and deliberate, until we were toe-to-toe. The lounge was empty, just us and the faint clink of ice melting in glasses.

I tilted my head, voice low enough that only she could hear.

“Listen carefully, Brittany. High school is over. Your little reign of terror? Done. You don’t get to slam lockers on my fingers, spread rumors, pants me in the cafeteria, or call me whatever ugly name you woke up feeling clever about ever again.”

I took one more step; she actually flinched.

“I’m not the scared girl hiding in bathroom stalls anymore. I’m the one your father begged to take his c**k last night. I’m the one he marked, the one he filled so deep I can still feel him dripping out of me while I stand here talking to you.”

Her face twisted, rage and humiliation evident.

I smiled, cold and sweet. “Your days of bullying me ended the second he growled mine against my throat. Touch me again, speak to me again, even look at me wrong, and I’ll make sure every last person on this yacht; and every rich bastard your father golfs with knows exactly what kind of spoiled, vicious little b***h he’s been protecting all these years.”

I leaned in until my lips almost brushed her ear.

“Run along now, princess. Daddy’s probably looking for round four.”

Brittany spun on her heel, nearly tripping in her haste to flee. The lounge door slammed behind her.

I exhaled, the rush of triumph flooding through my veins like champagne. Guilt? Buried. Richard wasn’t a pawn anymore—he was mine, and I’d earned him.

Let Brittany choke on that truth.

I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until Richard’s private breakfast in his cabin. Plenty of time for a quickie. Now, to slip into something easier to rip off. Revenge tasted even better with his c*m still dripping down my thighs.

***

Richard sat at the little breakfast table like a king on a throne, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, the morning sun striping gold across his chest. His eyes track me the second I step inside with the tray.

“Lock the door,” he ordered, voice still rough from sleep and last night’s growls.

I obey. The click of the lock barely sounds before he’s on me, backing me against the wall, mouth crashing into mine. The tray clatters forgotten to the floor.

“Been hard since you left, been wanting this cunt wrapped around me,” he mutters against my lips, yanking the elf skirt to my waist. Two thick fingers plunge straight to my soaked p***y, curling hard. I cry out, legs buckling.

“That’s it,” he growls, pumping fast, thumb grinding my c**t. “Soaked for me already. You walked in here dripping my c*m down your thighs, didn’t you?”

I nod helplessly, clinging to his shoulders as he finger-f***s me mercilessly, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet cabin. My orgasm slams into me embarrassingly fast—he swallows my scream with his mouth, then spins me around, bends me over the table.

Cold wood kisses my n*****s through the velvet as he kicks my feet apart. His c**k nudges my entrance once, twice, then he slams into me in one brutal thrust, balls slapping my c**t. I choke on air.

“f**k, still so tight,” he snarls, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Take it, baby. Take every inch like the good little mate you are.”

He sets a punishing rhythm—short, savage strokes that punch moans out of me with every thrust, the table creaking beneath us. His hand fists my hair, arching my back so he can bite down on the mark he left last night.

“Gonna knot this pretty p***y one more time before we leave this boat,” he promises. “Gonna stuff you so full you’ll feel me for days.”

Three more ruthless thrusts and I’m coming again, p***y clamping down, milking him. He roars, hips stuttering, knot swelling fast and thick, locking us together as he pumps rope after rope of hot c*m deep inside me. I feel every pulse, every spurt, until I’m overflowing, dripping down my thighs in filthy drops.

We stay tied, panting, his chest heaving against my back.

Eventually the knot deflates. He pulls out slow, watching his c*m spill, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Go fetch Brittany,” he says, voice lazy now, tucking himself away. “Tell her we’re cutting the cruise short. I want to go home.”

I straighten my skirt, legs still trembling. “Richard… she’s gone. Left the ship this morning. Didn’t say goodbye.”

His face shutters in surprise. “She left without a word?”

I nod.

He exhales through his nose, jaw tight. “Fine. Vacation’s over anyway.” He steps close again, cups my face, thumb brushing my swollen lips. “There’s something you need to know before we leave this boat.”

I swallow. “What?”

“I’m not human, Emma. I’m Alpha of the Nightforge Pack.” His eyes flash molten gold, wolf peering through. “The second I smelled you, my wolf knew—you’re my fated mate. I’ve been fighting the urge to drag you home and knot you in front of the entire pack just to prove it.”

My heart slams against my ribs.

“Come with me,” he says, voice low, deadly serious. “Leave this yacht, this life. Be mine. Be Luna of Nightforge.”

I stare up at him, still tasting him on my tongue, still feeling his c*m sliding down my thighs.

I should say no.

I should remember why I started this.

Instead I whisper, “Yes.”