Chapter 4: Step Mom

Amy Stone

“Are you crazy?” Kael snaps, yanking my head off his cock so fast my hair whips across my face. His voice cracks through the charged silence like a whip.

His entire body is trembling, skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his sculpted muscles flexing as he fights for control. His chest heaves, each breath shallow and ragged.

Good. That means I’m in control.

I smirk, deliberately licking my lips, tasting him. His cold, steel-gray eyes blaze with fury and something far more dangerous. Lust.

“It’s up to you,” I purr, rising slowly. Every move is calculated, deliberate. I walk toward the edge of the bed, swaying my hips, giving him a perfect view of my perfectly round ass. The kind of view that makes even a man like Kael Woods — feared CEO, ruthless billionaire — forget himself for a moment.

The old me would never have done this.

The old Amy would’ve been sobbing over betrayal, clinging to the wreckage of what Chad and my so-called best friend did to me.

But that Amy drowned in the river that night.

The Amy standing here? She’s reborn, a weapon forged from pain, sharpened by rage.

Kael drags a hand over his jaw, his face hard and unreadable. “I don’t date,” he says coldly. “And I will never marry.”

“Oh, Kael,” I tease, my tone soft and mocking. “But you liked it.”

His nostrils flare.

“I saw how you looked at me,” I continue, sauntering closer, my voice a sultry whisper. “How you touched me. Don’t bother denying it.”

He groans, low and guttural, before collapsing back onto the bed like a man fighting a battle inside himself.

“What are you?” His icy gaze drags down my body like a blade. “Some kind of psycho?”

I laugh softly, the sound low and wicked. “No. I’m just a woman giving you exactly what you need.”

“And what’s that?” His tone is sharp, suspicious.

I lean over him, my hair brushing across his chest, my lips dangerously close to his ear.

“A way to get back in the spotlight,” I murmur. “A way to rise from the ashes… to take back everything Chad stole from you.”

The mention of his son’s name is like striking a match. I see it — the slight flare of his nostrils, the tightening of his jaw.

“Marrying you?” His words are clipped, as if he’s forcing them out. “We just met.”

I straighten, laughing softly as I walk across the room to pick up my dress. My hair tumbles forward, silky and dark, a curtain that hides my smirk.

“And yet,” I say smoothly, “we almost fucked. You and I both know what we want, Kael. Stop pretending otherwise.”

He rises from the bed slowly, like a predator closing in on prey.

“Be my plus one at the Met Gala,” he demands, his voice deep and commanding. It’s not a question. It’s an order.

I pause, then turn to him, feigning mild amusement. “Oh, Kael,” I purr, brushing my hair over my shoulder. “I don’t need to be anyone’s plus one.”

His brows furrow, the first crack in his mask of control.

“I’m an heiress,” I remind him, my tone dripping with pride and provocation. “I can walk into the Gala on my own and every camera will turn to me. Every headline will scream my name. I don’t need you for that.”

I move closer, placing my hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath my palm.

“But you,” I whisper, leaning in until our lips almost touch, “you need me.”

His breath hitches. “Careful, Amy.”

“No,” I say, my tone firm, seductive and sharp all at once. “You be careful. Because right now, your name isn’t what it used to be. The world has forgotten the legend of Kael Woods. They whisper that you’re old news, a man whose empire is crumbling while your son builds his.”

His jaw flexes violently, his hands curling into fists.

I press closer, my breasts grazing his chest. “Marry me, Kael. Don’t just take me as your date. Take me as your fiancée. When we arrive together, hand in hand, dripping with power, no one will dare ignore you.”

His breathing deepens, his nostrils flaring. I can see the idea sinking into him, wrapping around his ego like silk.

“Think about it,” I murmur. “The media frenzy will skyrocket your name back to the top. Every deal, every negotiation will bend in your favor. And Chad?” My lips curl into a dark smile. “Chad will lose his mind.”

Kael’s eyes blaze with cold fury.

“You think I care what that ungrateful bastard thinks?” he snaps.

“Oh, but you do,” I whisper, trailing a finger down his chest, over the hard ridges of his abs. “Because Chad didn’t just steal your throne. He desecrated the memory of the woman you loved.”

Kael’s entire body goes rigid.

I have him now.

I climb into his lap, straddling him. My hands cradle his face as my voice softens, each word dripping with venomous sweetness.

“He destroyed her legacy. He laughed about her behind your back. He called her weak, pathetic.”

A tremor runs through Kael’s frame, his chest rising and falling sharply.

“You’ve been silent for years,” I continue. “You’ve let him believe he won. But together, we can make him suffer. We can make the entire world see him for what he really is. We can avenge her.”

His hand shoots out, gripping my throat — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make my breath hitch. His eyes are wild, dark and dangerous.

“You play a dangerous game, little girl,” he growls.

I smirk, unafraid. “And you love it.”

Our mouths crash together in a bruising kiss. His dominance slams against my defiance, a war fought with tongues and teeth.

He pushes me back on the bed, tearing the satin dress from my body with one savage motion. I gasp as cool air hits my skin, my nipples tightening into hard peaks.

“Kael—” My protest is cut off when he binds my wrists to the headboard with his tie, the silk biting into my skin.

“You wanted to tempt me?” His voice is a low, dangerous growl. “Now you’ll feel what happens when you play with fire.”

He drops to his knees and buries his face between my thighs. His tongue flicks against my clit with ruthless precision, licking, sucking, devouring me like a man starved.

My back arches, my vision blurring as I scream behind the gag he shoves into my mouth.

Kael’s touch is relentless, punishing, desperate. Years of rage and grief are channeled into every lick, every bite, every thrust of his tongue.

When he finally plunges his cock into me, it’s with one brutal, claiming thrust.

I cry out, my body shaking violently.

“God, you’re tight,” he groans, pounding into me, harder and deeper, each stroke a declaration of ownership.

“You’re mine now, Amy. No one else will ever touch you. Ever.”

Good. Exactly what I wanted.

As his thrusts grow erratic, I whisper against his ear, my words a poison-laced dagger.

“Imagine Chad’s face when he finds out,” I moan. “His father and the woman he betrayed… married. United. Powerful.”

Kael roars, his release ripping through him as he spills into me, marking me as his.

For a long moment, the room is silent except for our ragged breathing.

Then Kael rises, his expression cold, calculated, dangerous.

“Tomorrow,” he says, adjusting his tie, his voice like sharpened steel. “We go to the Met Gala.”

I tilt my head, feigning innocence. “As what?”

He grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“As my fiancée,” he declares. “And after that, Amy… we destroy my son.”

Perfect.

Exactly as I planned.

Chad, darling… soon you’ll have no choice but to call me stepmom.