The Jeon mansion was the kind of house that whispered wealth. A sprawling estate on the hills, surrounded by manicured gardens and marble pillars. Inside, everything gleamed — crystal chandeliers, dark polished wood, white leather furniture, and the faint scent of expensive perfume. It was too perfect, too polished.

And walking through it like she owned the world, was Jeon Taehyung — or as everyone now called her, Madam Tae.

Thirty-five years old, and a walking fantasy.

She had skin like snow and curves that refused to hide. Big, perfect breasts that strained against every tight top, a round, jiggling ass that peeked out of her shorts, and lips that always looked a little too full and a little too wet. She wore tiny dresses, sheer robes, lace-trimmed camisoles, and shorts so small they disappeared when she bent over.

But only when her husband wasn’t looking.

Around Jeon Junhyun, her sixty-year-old, powerful husband, she played the part of the sweet, obedient young wife. Always soft-spoken, always graceful. She’d touch his hand and smile. Sit on his lap like a blushing doll. Call him “Yeobo” in her honey-dripping voice. But the moment he left the room — those eyes of hers changed.

And someone else noticed.

Jeon Jungkook, her stepson, twenty years old, tall, broad-shouldered, fresh out of college, with muscles built like a fighter and a jawline sharp enough to slice marble. His black hair often messy, his hands always clenched. He looked like he should dominate any room he walked into.

But not when she was around.

Not when Tae walked past him in the hallway with her breasts bouncing in a thin tank top and no bra. Not when she leaned forward during breakfast and her robe parted just enough to show the soft valley between her tits. Not when she bent over to get a wine bottle from the bottom shelf, and her lace thong practically winked at him.

No, around her, Jungkook became quiet. Nervous. Hot-faced.

That morning was no different.

The sun poured through the long windows of the breakfast room. Junhyun was already at the table, reading the newspaper, sipping black coffee. Jungkook sat two seats down, trying to scroll through his phone and ignore the fact that his stepmother was coming down the stairs.

And then—

“Morning, boys,” came that voice. Sweet, casual, syrupy.

Jungkook looked up—and almost choked.

Tae wore a white silk robe, barely tied at the waist, so short it showed the under-curve of her ass. Underneath, a red satin bra peeked through, and her thick thighs shimmered in the light. Her long hair was tousled from sleep, lips pink and slightly puffy, like she’d been kissing someone all night.

She gave her husband a sweet peck on the cheek. “Did you sleep well, yeobo?”

Junhyun smiled. “Of course, darling. You?”

“Mmhmm.” She stretched slowly — arms above her head, robe riding even higher — before turning to Jungkook with a smile. “Morning, Kook-ah.”

He nodded quickly, looking away. “M-Morning.”

“Still sleepy?” She walked past him, letting her hand trail along the back of his chair. Her fingers grazed his shoulder. “Or just shy?”

His neck turned red.

Tae giggled softly and grabbed a strawberry from the fruit tray, leaning over the table so far that her cleavage nearly fell out. She bit into the fruit and moaned a little — softly, innocently — then turned and walked away, hips swaying with each step.

Jungkook didn’t dare look at her ass. But he could feel it. Like gravity.

Once her husband left for work, Tae padded barefoot around the house, robe even looser now. She leaned over the balcony while talking on the phone, her bare legs exposed. She bent over to dust the low glass table, giving Jungkook a perfect view of her round backside.

He watched from the kitchen, swallowing hard.

She had to know what she was doing.

Then it happened.

Later that afternoon, Tae was in the home gym, pretending to do yoga. She was in an obscenely tight pair of baby pink shorts and a matching sports bra that looked two sizes too small. Her breasts were pushed together, her thighs spreading on the mat as she bent forward in a slow stretch.

Jungkook came downstairs to get a drink.

And froze.

Tae looked up and smiled. “Wanna join me, Kook?”

He blinked. “N-No, I’m— I was just getting water.”

“Aw,” she pouted. “You sure? I could really use a strong man to help me stretch…”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

She turned, on all fours now, arching her back — that big round ass practically in his face. “Or maybe spot me while I do bridges?”

Jungkook dropped his bottle.

Tae turned her head and bit her lip, pretending to be surprised. “Oh no… did I make you nervous again?”

He grabbed the bottle, mumbling something, and bolted upstairs.

Behind him, Tae giggled — low, satisfied, filthy.