Loving My Billionaire Stepson

I gasped as he pulled out his fingers, subtly positioning himself between my legs as his smoldering eyes pinned me down, the tip of his manhood hovered inches away teasing me.

"This is wrong..." I whispered, shamefully turning my head to the side of the pillow, "...I am your step-mom...your father will–"

"Don't think about that man now..." he cooed as he slowly slid and destroyed the uncrossed boundary between us.

•••••••••••••••

The doctor handed me a white envelope holding the pregnancy results, his face solemn and neutral. Yet I gulped nervously, already knowing what to expect.

"I've grown five extra gray hairs waiting for you, are you planning to open the envelope sometime today?" My mother-in-law who sat next to me sneered sarcastically. I sighed inwardly, brushed my finger over the crisp piece of paper as I extracted its content. 

Negative 

Beatrice clutched her leather purse, standing up in a flurry of annoyance"What was even expecting?" she scoffed, "disappointing everyone is the only thing you are good at, other than being a barren husk," the doctor hardly even blinked, it broke something inside of me to know that a practical stranger was so familiar with my degradement that he'd become desensitized in the process.

I followed Beatrice from behind, head bowed as she continued the parade of shame through the halls of the hospital, several eyes turned towards us as she called me every name under the sun. 

I'd trained myself to swallow her insults like water, keep my head weekly, bow my lips tight holding back any retort. 

And for some reason. 

This irritated her even more. 

We got to the elevator, and I walked ahead to press the button like a helpful little servant. 

She made sure to give me an unnecessary shove as she walked past, then when I tried to follow in after her she held up her purse like a barrier.

"Use the stairs; it wouldn't hurt to burn off all that extra fat once in a while. " The doors closed just in time to hide my burning tears, which pooled in the corner of my eyes. Quickly, I wiped them off with the back of my hand. The last thing I needed right now was another reason for people to stare at me. 

I ran down the stairs in a blaze, aware that my mother-in-law would probably drive off if I wasn't in front of her within the next 7 minutes. 

By the time I reached the parking lot I was sweating, my clothes stuck to my body in an icky manner, she didn't even have the decency to hide her smile of satisfaction when she saw me laboring my way towards her.

Every month I had to endure this humiliation. 

She would drag me to the hospital, with or without any symptoms of pregnancy. Get me tested only to make a fool out of me. She did it without fail every single month.

I was sick of it.

But I couldn't dare complain.

My husband loved his mother with a passion, if she needed me to jump his only response would be; "How high?"

She looked at me from the crown of my head to the tip of my toes, dragging her demeaning eyes across my frame with a scowl of disapproval.

"Just looking at you is an eyesore, I don't even know why my son stays married to you," 

She looked at me, waiting for a rebuttal. Anything that would make her treat me more poorly, but I kept the mask on my face neutral and unmoved, knowing that was the only way I could get back at her–depriving her of the sick satisfaction that she got from tormenting me.

More wrinkles formed on her face, I could see the Rusty wheels in her head thinking of the next insult she went through then her expression cooled and unraveled on her lipstick-slathered lips.

"Maybe this is why my son cheats on you, at least he can have some fun outside to be able to tolerate coming back to you again," 

My chest tightened, and I almost faltered but I held on to my mask.

She always hinted at my husband having 'fun' beyond the confines of our matrimonial bed but I never paid her much heed. 

I planned to do the same today, then she brushed forward grabbing my arm which had no fingers so I couldn't escape. Holding me in a vice grip that was impressive for somebody in their 60s then she whispered in my ear. 

"Golden cove hotel, room 102," she backed away that devious smile never falling, "go there if you want to know the truth," 

She clicked open her purse and fished out some ruffled Dolan bills, tossing them on the ground like she was handing them to a beggar.

"This should be enough to get you there," She said, openly relishing in my misery. 

She got in her car as I remained transfixed to the spot, I only broke out of it as she left the spot from her car splattering on my face and dispersing around. 

Slowly, almost as if I was reaching for a bomb I bent down to pick up the bills.

My heart told me to ignore Beatrice, she was a sad pathetic woman who had never known happiness in her six decades of existence and chose to pick on me because my husband, Elliot Winter, looked the other way. He'd always apologize after days like these, He'd buy me flowers and tell me that this was just the way his mother was. 

I put up with it because I love him, and in her own checkered way, she loved him too.

I squeezed the money into my hand, heading towards the road to swing down a cab. 

"Where are you heading?" The driver tossed the question at me just as I was getting comfortable in the back seat, two choices were in front of me right now, I could easily tell him to take me back to the Winter mansion, where I would live the rest of my day in oblivion and blissful ignorance.

And whenever Elliot gets back you'll have under his arm a cliché bouquet of roses. He'd ask me about my day and apologize for his mother. I would accept the flowers and suppress the feelings of inadequacy and shame that I had endured all day.

"Ma?" The cab driver called out.

I took a deep breath.

"Golden Cove,"