How To Handle My Stepfather Wants Me To Quit School?

Rhea Ravelle, heiress of a powerful and influential family, goes against her family's wishes and cuts ties with them. She chooses to marry Carter Jamison, a man with a failing career and two children born out of wedlock. For six years, she raises his children as if they were her own and helps Carter rebuild his crumbling business. Under her care, the kids grow into kind, well-mannered little stars, and Carter's company finally makes it big and goes public. But right at the celebration marking his entry into high society, the biological mother of his two children suddenly shows up. And Carter, who is usually so calm, completely loses it. He begs the woman to stay, making Rhea the laughingstock of the entire city. That night, he doesn't come home. Instead, he takes the children and runs straight back to his old flame, playing house as a happy family. Soon after, Carter files for divorce. "Thanks for everything, Rhea. But the kids need their birth mother." The children's mother also says, "Thank you for taking care of them all these years. But a stepmother will never compare to a birth mother." So blood beats love? If that's how it is, then she's done playing stepmother. However, the children reject their birth mother flat-out, and they don't want Carter either. They declare, "Rhea is our only mom! If you're getting divorced, then we're going wherever she goes!"

Maturity Warning ⚠️ This story is a dark romance intended for mature audiences (18+). It contains explicit sexual content, predatory behavior, power imbalances, blackmail and taboo themes. Reader discretion is advised. **He's my Professor. He's my Step father. And he's the only man who devours me at night.** I am a science student who failed every course and was hated by my professor. But on one faithful morning my mum announced a heartbreaking information. She was going to marry the professor I lusted over. The one man I had imagined one day he would pin me down to his bed. Mr Chadwick is cold, brilliant, and sexy. He hated me for being dull and feminine but behind those eyes filled with fury, his darkest desires loomed around me. In public, Mr Chadwick is the perfect academic and the perfect step father. But behind closed doors of the study, he is a predator who had discovered my darkest secrets: a sketchbook filled with obsessive drawings of him. Now, the lessons have changed. Chadwick doesn't want me to study books; he wants me to study him. It was supposed to be a punishment. He curses me on the outside but claims me like a hungry lion every night. Under my mum's roof. It was supposed to break my spirit. But he found out, he lusted over the very thing he hated.

“This… this is wrong,” she stuttered, trying not to meet his eyes. “You’re my stepfather. Let’s forget it ever happened.” “How can I forget it happened, Nicole?” He questioned, gripping her chin. “When the image of you whimpering for more replays in my head every fucking night?” When one night of desperation turns into Nicole ending up in bed with a nameless stranger, she’s almost shocked to death when she moves in with her mother’s new husband to see that the nameless stranger is her new stepfather. Tristan Michelson has always been in control of his emotions, but he can barely control himself when he realizes the masked stripper is his new stepdaughter. ~•~ Warning: This story features morally grey leads and a lot of smut.

Chelsea has been at odds with her stepbrother, Aldrich ever since her father's new wife moved into the house with her son. She is determined to find a perfect boyfriend who is opposite of him. However, popular as she is in campus, boys who expressed affection for her start to stay away the next day. After investigation, she finds out it is because of her stepbrother! When she confronts him, Aldrich whispers in her ear - You belong to me alone! What should she do with her possessive stepbrother?

“Tell me,” he said, low and dangerous. “Tell me who this cunt belongs to.” “You,” I panted, spreading wider, shameless. “It’s yours—please, Micaiah—” “Come on my cock,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Show me how much you love being fucked by me.” ★⁠☆ Maliya comes home after two years abroad, hoping everything she ran from has finally cooled. But the moment she steps through the door, she realizes nothing has changed—especially not the one person she never wanted to face again. Micaiah. Her stepbrother. Her almost. Her reason for disappearing. She plans to keep her distance, start classes, rebuild her life… until her parents drop the news: they’ve transferred her to a new university, the one where Micaiah works as a professor. And they’re leaving for a three-month honeymoon, meaning she and Micaiah will be living in the same house. Alone. Maliya tells herself she can handle it. But Micaiah has his own ideas about unfinished business. Three months isn’t long… unless you’re stuck with the one person you swore you’d never fall for again.

️ 18+ ONLY. If you are under 18, close this now. This book contains extremely explicit sexual content, taboo stepfather/stepdaughter dynamics, power play, and graphic erotic scenes. Strictly 18+ only. Read at your own risk. “Don’t make a sound,” he growled against my ear, his hand sliding between my thighs. “Not one sound, or I stop and we both know you don’t want me to stop.” He was right. God help me, he was right. Caden Voss is my stepfather. Forty-two, ruthless, built like sin and cold as steel. The kind of man who makes grown men flinch and panties drop without trying. He married my mother. And he has his fingers buried inside me while my mother sleeps down the hall. I came back home at twenty-one thinking I could handle him. Thinking the attraction was just a stupid crush I’d grown out of. But nothing prepares you for Caden Voss up close his voice, his hands, the way his eyes strip you naked before he’s touched a single inch of you. He fought it. Weeks of cold silences and hard stares and pretending he didn’t watch my mouth when I talked. Then one night he stopped pretending. Now he has me bent over his desk every chance he gets, hand wrapped in my hair, whispering filthy things against my skin that make me forget my own name. He knows exactly how to make me beg. Exactly how to stretch me open and fill me so deep I’m sobbing into the pillow trying not to wake the whole house. It’s wrong. It’s filthy. It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt. And I don’t want him to stop. Not even a little.