chapter 24: The house goes quiet

Bronte’s POV

The house felt too big after Mom left.

Her absence hung in every room. The kitchen was quieter.

The hallway felt longer, even the air seemed heavier. I kept expecting her to walk back through the door, eyes full of questions I still couldn’t answer.

Rufus didn’t give me time to spiral.

The moment the front door locked behind her, he turned to me.

His expression was different sharper, hungrier, less controlled than usual. He walked over, took my hand, and led me upstairs without a word.

In his bedroom, he closed the door and looked at me for a long second.

“She’s gone for the night,” he said. “Maybe longer. That means we don’t have to be careful.”

He kissed me hard, walking me backward until the backs of my knees hit the bed. I fell onto it, and he followed, covering my body with his.

His hands were already under my shirt, pulling it up and off. My bra followed. Then my shorts and panties.

He sat back on his heels and looked at me, completely bare except for the necklace.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Look at you.”

He didn’t undress slowly. He stripped fast, then climbed back over me and pushed my legs open. There was no long teasing this time.

He rubbed the head of his cock against my entrance, found me already wet, and pushed in with one deep thrust.

I cried out, gripping his shoulders.

He fucked me hard from the start deep, steady strokes that made the headboard knock against the wall.

One hand pinned my wrists above my head. The other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise.

“This is what you need,” he growled against my mouth. “Not careful or quiet, just this.”

I moaned in answer, wrapping my legs around him. Every thrust pushed the guilt further away and replaced it with heat.

He changed angles, hitting that spot inside me that made my toes curl, and I came hard, shaking under him.

He didn’t stop.

He flipped me onto my stomach, pulled my hips up, and drove back into me from behind. One hand fisted in my hair, the other spanked my ass between thrusts.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room.

I buried my face in the pillow, muffling my cries as he fucked me through a second orgasm.

When he finally came, he buried himself deep and groaned my name, filling me.

We stayed like that for a moment, both breathing hard. Then he pulled out, rolled me onto my back again, and kissed me slower this time.

“We’re not done,” he murmured.

He wasn’t lying.

An hour later he had me on the edge of the bed, my legs over his shoulders, eating me out until I was sobbing and begging. Then he fucked me again slower, deeper, watching my face the entire time.

When I came a third time, he followed right after, collapsing over me.

Afterward, we lay tangled in the sheets. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my stomach.

“She’s going to come back with more questions,” he said quietly. “Jake isn’t going to stop. Chloe either.”

I stared at the ceiling. “I know.”

Rufus turned my face toward him. “Then stop fighting what this is, you’re already mine. The only question left is how much of yourself you’re willing to give me.”

I didn’t answer.

But when he pulled me on top of him and guided me down onto his cock again, I didn’t resist.

I rode him slowly at first, then harder, my hands braced on his chest, the necklace swinging between us.

He gripped my hips and thrust up to meet me, eyes locked on mine.

By the time we finally stopped, the sky outside was starting to lighten.

I fell asleep against his chest, sore, marked, and more confused than ever.

Because the more he took from me the more I wanted to give.

And that scared me more than Mom’s questions ever could.