Claimed by My Possessive Guardian – Age-Gap, High Society Romance.

I dressed in a dangerously short skirt, straddled my guardian’s lap, and poured my heart out in a bold confession. But the man simply furrowed his brows and dropped a single, bone-chilling command: “Get off.”

Later on, I wore that exact same skirt—only this time, I was dancing in the arms of handsome frat boys at my college.

I never expected him to roughly drag me into his bedroom. His calloused fingers traced the fragile hem of my skirt as he asked, his voice dark and completely hoarse, “Good girl, I’ve raised you all these years… did you really think I’d let another man have a taste?”

That night, the skirt was torn to shreds in his hands.