MY STEPDAD IS MINE

Amelia’s POV

Today was a completely miserable day and don’t even get me started! That ex-jerk — God, what was he thinking? I was very clear from the outset that we were messing around, no strings, no feelings. Oh, but I know, that asshole got a big crush and just went psycho, practically raped me at my graduation party. Thank God he was wasted, and I had enough strength to shove him off. The memory that in particular feels like a distant dream is of his hands grabbing me and it just makes me feel cringe, and not in a good way. I’ve had it with him, had it with that mess, and am ready to let it go.

Relief surged through me as I peered at the door to my apartment. Home. My safe haven. I wondered if Mum was home yet — unlikely because she would have thought I’d have been out late, celebrating. High school was officially in the rearview mirror, and college was calling. Freedom! Just the prospect of even an hour away in a dorm got me buzzing. No more curfews, no more rules — just me, being who I am. I smiled, digging in my bag for my key.  I jiggled my key into the lock, but wait, it was open?

“Mum’s home?” I mumbled, frowning. “It’s only 5 p.m. Why’s she back so early?” My curiosity aroused, I insisted on opening the door—and was frozen stiff. My jaw hit the floor. There, in the living room, was some dude with his back to me, snogging my mum as if they were auditioning for a soft porn film. Mum was practically nude, wearing nothing but a flimsy camisole and panties, her hands in his hair, grinding herself against him. His hands explored, one cupping her breast, the other tracing a path down to grab her ass, biting at her tongue in a deep, hungry kiss. Mum groaned, long and needy, when he nibbled on her neck, head arching back in pleasure.

I was frozen near the door, dropping the bag from my shoulder and going wide-eyed at the display in the room. The guy was tall, broad shouldered — his shirt stretched. Mum moaned louder as he went down and his lips were on her chest and her breasts rose a little, weathered by age.  She’d always looked after herself — even working out every day — appearing much more the hot thirty something than any middle aged mom. Just seeing her like this, so consumed with passion, was … well, wild.

They staggered on to the couch, the guy crawling over her, pulling off his shirt to reveal a back that might have been chiseled by gods. Tanned and toned and stupidly sexy. No wonder Mum was pouncing on him. A little stupid pang of jealousy flitted through me: Why can’t I find myself a guy like that? I had always had a thing for older men, the confidence, the edge. I think smirking and grabbing boys at the school were repulsive and gross. I’d gone out with a handful, ok, but had always removed them to arm’s length and still been a virgin, waiting for… What? Someone.

But this? This was next level. The guy knelt between mum’s legs and his face was leaning into my mother, his eyes glancing away. Was he about to…? Oh, hell, he was. He rubbed his nose against her panties, taking a long breath before nuzzing in, and Mum’s moans went up an octave, her face contorting with pleasure. I felt my throat go dry, even as my heart pounded, and—God help me—I felt a twinge in my own panties, a heat I didn’t expect. I had to swallow hard, I was staring at them, stuck somewhere between shock and something I didn't have a word for.

“Oh FUCK, yes… Collins, please,” Mum panted, writhing underneath him. “I want you in me … inside me, fill me up!” Her voice was desperate, ragged, and his reply—a low, gravelly chuckle sent a shiver crawling over my skin.

“Can’t take it, huh?” he winked, his gravel and honey voice like the others. “This is just the beginning, you vixen.” He stood, yanking down his shorts, and — oh my God. I felt dizzy, and my face flushed when I saw him. Long, fat, veiny and so fucking hard. I’d never seen anything like it and, for a second, I was lost. But then reality crashed in. This was my mum. And this guy — Collins — was going to …

“Mum!” I cried out, my voice sharp through their fog. Their heads swivelled towards me, Mum’s eyes rounded with alarm, Collins’s composed but inscrutable. She scrambled to shield herself, pulling a throw blanket with her arm over her chest, as he promptly adjusted his shorts without a second thought. But when he turned completely, unbalance in my world was introduced. That mug — rugged, sharp-jawed and with piercing dark eyes. I caught my breath, my heart jolting. Him. My hero.

Months ago, he’d saved me. the guy who’d come in just like some kind of white knight when I’d been forced into an alleyway, some creep boxing me against the wall. One hit, and the guy was unconscious. He had stopped to see if I was all right, his voice gruff but kind, and then disappeared before I could thank him. And I’d been obsessed since then, replaying that moment, looking for him, dreaming about his face. My crush, my anonymous savior, the guy I’d fallen for at first sight. And here he was, in my living room, fucking my mum.

“Amelia, baby! You’re… you’re back early! Have you eaten? Should I whip up your hangover soup?” Mom said, hands gripping the blanket. But I barely heard her. I was fixated on Collins, my chest compressed, as I felt a tempest of betrayal boiling within me. Why him? Why her? He put an arm around Mum’s shoulder, which would have been comforting if it didn’t touch me. I wished I could shout, I wanted to tell him to take his hands off her, but how could I, even if it was my right? He likely didn’t even remember me.

My hands shook uncontrollably at my sides. Do I play it cool, pretend like I hadn’t just walked in on them? Or scream bloody murder, ask questions? But what could I say? He wasn’t mine. I was just some girl he had helped, a moment forgotten in his life. But watching him with Mum, how close, could send me to an early grave. I glowered at them, my voice sharp with the unshed pain. “Well? What’s going on?”

Mum paused, glancing first at Collins, then at me. “Amelia, I didn’t want you to hear it here,” she said quietly, apologetically. “I mean, it’s … awkward, I know, but…” She inhaled, and I braced myself, my heart beating in my throat. “Can you just say it?” I cracked, my patience tattering. I wanted her to spit it out, say he was just a fling, a one night thing — that it was not serious. But her next words blew everything wide open.

“Say hello to Collins, dear,” she smiled nervously. “He’s your new stepfather. And this is my daughter, Amelia, Collins. She will be… your daughter now.” The words struck like a slap, my vision blurring with surprise. Stepfather? Daughter? No. Hell no. The man I fantasized about, the hero who stole my heart, was now my stepfather? My heart howled, betrayal and yearning tangling together.