Can't Buy Her Love

Ryder Skye knew she was running out of moves. She’d bought Gia Derza a phone, earrings that cost more than rent, and finally a new car, and the girl still looked through her like glass. When the latest present landed without so much as a smirk, Ryder snapped and cornered her stepdaughter on the sofa. Gia let the silence stretch, then told her straight: every wife who came before had gone missing because none of them had the guts to touch her. She wanted Ryder—the warm body, the wet tongue, the soft mouth swallowing every inch of her. Ryder didn’t waste a second. Her dress hit the floor, knees parted, and she bent between Gia’s thighs. Fingers splayed across round, pert breasts, thumbs circling stiff nipples until Gia’s breath caught. Then Ryder’s tongue found her slick folds, lapping in long, hungry strokes, sucking and circling until the younger girl rocked against her face, wet with need. Pleasure climbed fast and raw, the wet sounds of Ryder’s mouth mixing with Gia’s soft, desperate cries. Every flick, every lap brought them closer, until both women hovered at that sharp edge, the final gift Ryder would be giving again the next night—and the night after that.