The second Mom’s key turned in the lock, the house filled with her perfume and laughter, and everything Doug and I had done that weekend slammed into me like a freight train. She dropped her suitcase, opened her arms, and I ran into them. She squeezed me so tight I could barely breathe, calling me her baby, saying how grown-up I looked, how proud she was. Doug stood behind her with that easy, handsome smile, but when our eyes met over her shoulder, the air crackled. I felt it in my gut: hot, guilty, electric.

That night, after all the stories and wine and pretending everything was normal, I went to bed early. I buried my face in the pillow and cried until my throat hurt. Around one in the morning, I heard them: headboard tapping, Mom’s breathy moans, Doug’s low grunts. It felt like someone carving my heart out with a spoon.

Then the door creaked.

Soft footsteps. The mattress dipped.

“Hey, sweetie,” Doug whispered, voice rough with sex and whiskey.

I wiped my eyes fast, but he saw.

“Yeah, Dad,” I croaked, rolling over.

He leaned down and kissed me, slow, deep, tasting like Mom and sin. His cock was already hard under his boxers, pressing against my hip. The smell of her on him made me want to scream and beg at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed against my lips. “I had to. Told her I was too drunk to finish… please, baby.”

I shoved at his chest. “Go fuck her, then.”

“Come on.” His hand slid under the blanket, finding me hard anyway. “Been thinking about this tight little ass all goddamn day.”

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. “You’re an asshole.”

Then I wrapped my fingers around him and stroked.

He groaned, pushing into my fist. I leaned forward and took him into my mouth, tasting Mom on her husband, my stepdad, and it broke something inside me and set it on fire at the same time. I sucked him deep, sloppy, desperate, until spit strung from my lips to the head of his cock.

“Jesus, you’re so much better than she is,” he rasped.

I choked myself on him just to hear him lose control.

He yanked the covers off, saw the red thong I’d worn to bed like a dirty secret, and growled. In seconds, my legs were over his shoulders and his tongue was buried in my hole, licking, sucking, owning me. I whimpered into the pillow as he dragged his mouth down my shaft, teasing the slit until my hips jerked.

He lubed himself fast, impatient. I spread for him without being asked.

“Please, Daddy,” I begged, voice cracking.

He pushed in slowly, just the head, then slammed home. I bit the pillow to keep from screaming. He fucked me like he hated me and loved me in the same breath, hips snapping, hands bruising my waist. When he came, he buried himself deep and flooded me, then pulled out and shoved his dripping cock into my mouth so I could clean him.

I was still shaking when he whispered, “Let me taste you.”

I couldn’t say no. Never could.

He sucked me like a man starved, fingers sliding through the mess he’d left in me, and when I came, he swallowed every drop, then kissed me so I could taste myself on his tongue.

“I gotta go back to your mom,” he said, voice wrecked.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

He slipped out as quietly as he’d come in. I lay there, leaking him onto the sheets and somehow fell asleep smiling.

The rest of the week was torture: polite breakfasts, Mom’s hand on his knee, me pretending I wasn’t dying every time she kissed him.

Friday finally came.

Mom hugged me goodbye in the driveway, oblivious. She kissed Doug long and slow, told him she loved him. I smiled like a good son while jealousy clawed my insides raw.

The second we hit the highway, he reached for my hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t love her anymore. I haven’t for a long time.”

My heart stopped. “What?”

“I want you. When we get back, I’m filing for divorce. I’m moving to your college town. I want us, for real.”

I stared at him, afraid to believe it. “You’d leave her? For me?”

“I already left her the moment I touched you.” His eyes were fierce. “You’re it for me, kid.”

I laughed through sudden tears. “I’d get to be your boyfriend? Like… actually yours?”

He grinned and kissed me at sixty-five miles an hour. “Try and stop me.”

Two boring hours, I decided. I reached for his belt. “Let me make the drive go faster.”

He groaned as I freed him. I bent over the console and took him down my throat while he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other tangled in my hair, forcing me deeper every time I gagged.

He pulled off at the first motel we saw.

The door hadn’t even clicked shut before he had me slammed against it, forearm across my chest, mouth crashing into mine hard enough that my head knocked the wood. Teeth clacked, tongues slid messily and desperately. His stubble scraped my chin raw while he yanked my shirt up and off in one rough pull.

“Been hard since the highway,” he growled against my neck, biting down under my jaw. “Gonna make you feel it all weekend.”

He spun me around so fast my palms slapped the door for balance, then dragged my jeans and the little black panties down to my knees.

“Jesus fuck, look at you.” He dropped to his knees right there in the entryway, spread me open with rough hands, and spat on my hole like he owned it. His tongue pushed inside without warning, hot, wet, relentless. When he dragged it down to my balls and sucked one into his mouth, a broken moan tore out of me.

Crack. His palm landed hard enough to jolt me forward.

“What did I say about noise, baby boy?”

I bit my lip, nodding frantically, but he just laughed dark and filthy and spanked me again, harder, watching the print bloom red. Every gasp earned another until my ass was throbbing and my cock dripped onto the carpet.

He stood, chest to my back, kicked his shoes off, belt clinking to the floor. His cock slid between my cheeks, slick from my spit in the car, teasing with every slow grind.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to wreck me, Daddy. Please.”

One hand fisted my hair, arching my back; the other lined him up. Then he drove into me in a single brutal thrust that punched the air from my lungs. I would’ve screamed if he hadn’t slapped a hand over my mouth at the exact same second.

He set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping, balls slapping, the door rattling in its frame. My toes barely touched the ground; he held me up by sheer force, fucking me onto his cock like I weighed nothing.

Eventually, he pulled out, spun me, and shoved me down the short hallway. I stumbled, jeans tangled around my ankles, and he laughed when I almost face-planted.

“Get on the fucking bed. Ass up.”

I scrambled, kicking the jeans off, crawling to the center on shaky arms. He was on me before I could breathe, straddling my thighs, spreading me wide. He took a second just to look, thumbs pulling me open, watching me clench and flutter around nothing.

“Christ, that’s gorgeous.” Then he leaned down and licked from my balls to my spine, making me shudder so hard the headboard knocked the wall.

He fucked me face-down for what felt like hours, changing angles every time I got close, edging me mercilessly. Every time I reached for my cock, he pinned my wrists and spanked me until I sobbed into the pillow, begging in broken whispers.

Only when I was a shaking, sweat-soaked mess did he flip me onto my back, shove my knees to my chest, fold me in half, and slide back in so deep I felt him in my throat.

“Look at me.”

I forced my eyes open. His face was flushed, hair stuck to his forehead, eyes wild.

“Love you so fucking much,” he gritted out between thrusts. “Gonna keep this hole full every night from now on. You’re mine. Say it.”

“Yours,” I choked. “All yours, Daddy, please—”

He slammed in one last time and came with a guttural shout, pulsing so hard inside me I felt every spurt. The pressure shoved me over too; I came untouched, striping my stomach and chest, vision whiting out as I clenched around him, milking him dry.

He collapsed on top of me, both of us panting. After a minute, he rolled us sideways but stayed inside, arms wrapped tight around my chest, lips against my neck.

I was sore, sticky, bruised in the best ways, and grinning like an idiot.

He pressed a soft kiss between my shoulder blades. “Sleep, baby. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

I believed him.

For the first time, I wasn’t afraid of tomorrow.