I’ve been keeping a secret that mortifies me… my body started lactating out of nowhere, stress-induced and completely humiliating. No pregnancy, no explanation I want to give anyone. Just me, leaking through my tops and praying nobody notices.
Nobody except him.
Heath Caldwell is my stepdad. He’s older, towering, tattooed, and built like he could crush a man’s hand without trying.
He’s also the only person in this house who actually stays.
My mother is always gone, always chasing some new date, some new thrill, while Heath remains, solid and steady and watching me with those piercing steel blue eyes that make my breath catch in ways I refuse to think about.
But I do think about it. All the time.
So I do something reckless. I give him a key to my room and a note telling him he can come in while I sleep.
Do anything he wants. Because I’m a deep sleeper, and the idea of him sneaking around in the dark, touching me, discovering the milk my body won’t stop producing… It doesn’t scare me. It thrills me.
What starts as one desperate, curious night becomes an obsession neither of us can stop. His mouth on me. His hands learning every sound I make. The warm cream on his lips when I wake to rumpled sheets and the ghost of his presence.
He’s my stepfather. He’s twenty years older. And every night I fall asleep hoping he’ll use that key again.
I know this could destroy everything.
I just don’t care anymore.
