She waited until her stepmom left for the weekend. Just her and her stepdad, alone in the house. She’d been teasing him for weeks — walking around in his shirts with no bra, bending over way too slowly, calling him “stepdaddy” in that fake-innocent voice. And now, she was ready to push it further. She found him in the kitchen, sipping coffee. “Morning,” she said, voice sweet, eyes wicked. She was wearing nothing but a thin tank top and panties. He looked up, startled. “Where’s the rest of your clothes?” She shrugged. “Hot night. Couldn’t rest.” Then she leaned on the counter, chest pressing forward, lips pouting. “You’ve been looking at me different, you know.” “I haven’t” he started, but stopped when she took his hand and placed it on her hip. “It’s okay,” she whispered, eyes locked on his. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”

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