PINNED BY MY STEPFATHER

Dangerous Comfort

Chapter 12

Derek’s POV

The apartment smelled of roasted chicken and herbs when I stepped inside that evening.

Mom’s laughter drifted from the kitchen, light and carefree in a way that used to be rare.

I hung my bag on the hook, steeling myself.

The soreness from last night lingered with every step, a secret brand on my body that no one else could see.

“Perfect timing!” Mom called. “Marcus made dinner again. Come help set the table.”

I walked in and froze for half a second.

Marcus stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, carving the chicken with precise movements.

He glanced up, dark eyes meeting mine with calm composure.

The same man who had f****d me senseless less than twenty-four hours ago now looked every bit the devoted fiancé.

“Hey,” I muttered, grabbing plates from the cabinet.

Dinner unfolded with painful normalcy.

Mom chatted about her day at the clinic and wedding color schemes, completely unaware of the undercurrent crackling between us.

Marcus played his role flawlessly, attentive, asking questions, laughing at her stories. But beneath the table, his knee pressed against mine deliberately.

The contact burned through my jeans.

I shifted away. He followed, persistent. When Mom turned to refill her water, his hand slid onto my thigh under the table, squeezing firmly.

My fork clattered against the plate. Heat flooded my face as his fingers crept higher, dangerously close to where I was already responding against my will.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” Mom asked, returning to her seat.

“Fine,” I choked out. Marcus’s hand stayed there, thumb stroking slow circles. The risk made my heart race and my c**k harden. I hated how much I wanted him to keep going.

The moment Mom stood to grab dessert from the fridge, Marcus leaned in close, voice low enough for only me to hear. “You’ve been hard since you sat down. Thinking about last night?”

I grabbed his wrist under the table, trying to push him away. Instead, he laced our fingers briefly, a secret touch that felt far too intimate.

His palm was warm, calloused.

When Mom returned, he released me smoothly, as if nothing had happened.

After dinner, I escaped to the living room with my laptop, desperate for distraction. Professor Lang had sent detailed research guidelines for the family dynamics project. I opened the document, hoping it would anchor me.

It backfired.

The section on blended families and hidden power imbalances hit like a punch to the gut. “New romantic partners often create complex emotional triangles,” the text read. “Secret tensions, loyalty conflicts, and unspoken attractions can destabilize existing structures.”

Case studies detailed step-relations where attraction crossed forbidden lines, leading to guilt, secrecy, and fractured trust.

My stomach twisted. Every word mirrored my reality. Marcus wasn’t just Mom’s fiancé anymore, he was the man who had pinned me down and made me come while calling me his. I slammed the laptop shut, breathing hard.

“Research going well?” Marcus asked quietly, appearing in the doorway. Mom was in the shower, the water running audibly.

“Too well,” I snapped. “This project is basically my life now. Hidden tensions. Power imbalances. Sound familiar?”

He stepped closer, eyes softening with something like regret mixed with hunger. “We’re navigating it.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. Alex’s name lit up the screen. I grabbed it quickly.

Hey, our outline looks strong. Want to meet tomorrow afternoon at the café to rehearse the presentation? My treat for coffee.

A simple, friendly text. Yet Marcus’s gaze sharpened as he read it over my shoulder. His jaw tightened, the first crack in his usual control.

“Alex?” he asked, voice deceptively casual.

“Yeah. Group project partner.” I typed a quick reply: Sounds good. See you then.

Marcus’s hand returned to my shoulder, squeezing harder than necessary. “You two seem close lately.”

The jealousy in his tone sent a confusing thrill through me. “He’s just a friend. Unlike you, he doesn’t come with a mountain of complications.”

Marcus’s grip tightened. For a moment, the air thickened with tension.

He looked like he wanted to push me against the wall and remind me exactly who I belonged to. But Mom’s shower turned off, forcing him to step back.

“Be careful, Derek,” he murmured. “Secrets have a way of slipping out when you’re not looking.”

I retreated to my room after that, pulse racing. The risky touch at dinner, the research hitting too close, Alex’s innocent text stirring Marcus’s jealousy,everything was spiraling.

I wanted space. I wanted normalcy. But my body still hummed from Marcus’s hand on my thigh, and my mind replayed last night on an endless loop.

Later, as the apartment quieted, a soft knock sounded on my door. I knew it was him.

I opened it. Marcus stood there, eyes dark with restrained need. “Your mom’s asleep,” he said quietly.

I should have closed the door. Instead, I stepped aside.

Dangerous comfort. That’s what this was becoming. And I was already addicted.