I'm Just Glad You're Back

Kevin (Calvin Hardy) aches with raw grief since his stepdaughter Marie (Isabella Nice) bolted from their home, vanishing like smoke into the shadows. He tortures himself replaying their final family fragments, chasing a ghost of why she fled, but the void mocks him. She's erased, and the knife twists—will she ever slink back? Then, out of the fog, Marie reappears, igniting a savage joy in Kevin's gut... until her lips curl with venom, confessing she escaped because of HIM. Shock slams him; has he shattered something irreparable? But Marie unleashes the real thunder: her hunger for him is twisted, carnal, forbidden fire. Romantic? Sexual? Kevin reels in horror—they're stepfather and stepdaughter, blood-bound by law if not vein! What fury would erupt if his wife, Marie's own mother, caught wind? Marie's eyes harden to steel, spilling her poison: she seethes with envy for the woman who birthed her, gutted that mom barely blinked at her absence. Mom's indifference to Marie is a blade, but to Kevin? Nonexistent. Not like Marie's scorching obsession. If Kevin can't mirror that illicit blaze, she'll vanish again, deeper into the night. To chain his stepdaughter's wild heart to his side, Kevin must plunge into the abyss, tangling closer in ways that scorch the soul—bodies colliding in desperate, sweat-slicked surrender, her lithe form arching under his reluctant thrusts, moans echoing the taboo storm they've ignited.