OBSESSED WITH MY TEMPTING STEPFATHER

“You have ordered the fifth cup tonight. Are you sure you haven’t had enough, ma’am?” The Russian waiter in uniform asked Sarah Holdens, who was seated, clothed in a red dress that hugged her petite but curvy body perfectly, with concern.

Grabbing the champagne glass from the waiter, she looked up at her. “I’m not underage; I can handle myself.” She said, as ever, politely as she could, with a small smile tugging her lips.

The waiter left, and Sarah returned her attention to the celebrant. The much older but hot multi-billionaire Vincent Laurent, whom they had all gathered here tonight to celebrate his 42nd birthday. He was the same man who had haunted her thoughts for the past three years and under whose care she had been left alone since a year after her mother’s death. He was her stepfather, one who her mother was married to before the cold hands of death took her away.

Sarah had been attracted to him ever since she set her eyes on him in a TV show’s interview. Her eyes traced him as he exchanged greetings with his powerful guests, and she suddenly felt a pull of moisture between her legs. She was already horny for her late mother's husband or ex-husband because she was now late. Her mission tonight was to get in his bed and have him fuck her recklessly, just like she had always fantasized. She bit her lips as she felt the moisture leak onto her pants, her hand moving up to curb her long, black, fluffy hair to her neck.

Just then, their eyes met, and he smiled at her. It was a harmless, polite smile, yet it made her imagine things—wild things. Maybe her tipsiness was aiding her thoughts, maybe not; one thing was sure—they were fucking tonight.

Her thought was interrupted when Vincent moved to the center stage, raising a hand up to gather the guests’ attention. His piercing dark eyes looked fiercer under the bright lights of the hall. He had all of Sarah’s attention.

Immediately silence ensued, he started. “There is someone I would love you all to meet.” Sarah’s brows furrowed as her mood shifted. What was Vincent talking about?

Just then, from the other end of the room, a woman dressed in a fancy blue gown with blonde hair cat-walked towards him. Sarah felt her heart plummet as she started to get hints of what this was about. She didn’t even try to register the woman’s face; she couldn’t look. 

“This is Camille Devereux, my fiancée.” Sarah didn’t wait; she leaped to her feet and exited to the hall’s balcony while applause resounded throughout the large, decorated room. She felt her heart shatter and suddenly felt lightheaded. What was she thinking? She had thought Vincent had allowed her to stay under his roof for that long because he also felt a thing for her. She was wrong; she would always seem like a daughter to him, even though she had recently clocked 22.

“Plotting a murder?” A baritone voice jolted her away from her despair. She looked to her side to find Rafael Laurent, leaning casually against one of the strong pillars. Rafael was Vincent’s cousin and also a large shareholder/investor in the Laurent Empire; only he spent his own money recklessly on luxury. He was Vincent’s younger version, also hot-looking but not as hot as Vincent, or at least that was what Sarah thought since it was Vincent she had her hots for. He looked as he usually did: reckless and quite rugged. That was Rafael’s charm.