She's Not Mine...But She Lives Here

She’s not mine. But she lives here. And that makes her mine enough.

When her mother took a job overseas, I agreed to keep an eye on the brat. What I didn’t agree to? Crop tops in my kitchen. Vape clouds in my living room. And her—sprawled out in my bed like she owns the place.

She doesn’t pay rent. She doesn’t follow the rules.

But now that I’ve dusted off the House Rules Contract, she’s about to learn what obedience really means.

She wanted a place to stay.

She didn’t realize it came with me.

A slow-burn pseudo-incest taboo with control, consequences, and the kind of heat that blurs every line.

You’ve been warned.