I don’t fight when he pushes me onto his bed.

I should. This is rape. This is sick. He’s twice my age and married to my mother. But my body is already humming, traitorously wet, remembering the soreness every morning like a dirty secret.

Marcus climbs over me, heavy and warm. His cock drags along my slit, thick head nudging my entrance.

“Look at this greedy cunt,” he growls. “Already dripping like a whore even though you’re supposed to be my innocent stepdaughter.”

“I shouldn’t—” I start, but he cuts me off by shoving two thick fingers deep inside me without warning. The wet squelch is filthy. He curls them,...