INICIAR SESIÓNAria.“Godfather.”The word left my mouth in the dark study before I even decided to say it. Julian’s hand was still on my knee. His shirt hung open on me. I could feel him leaking out of me onto the leather chair.He watched my face like he was memorizing the first time I offered the title without being told.“Again,” he said.“Godfather.”He nodded. “Sleep if you can. When the sun comes up you play the part one more time for her. After that the part is over.”I did not sleep much. I dozed against the arm of the chair with his shirt wrapped around me and the ache between my legs reminding me what the desk had been used for. He stayed in the other chair. Sometimes I opened my eyes and found him still looking at me. He did not pretend otherwise.Gray light finally touched the edges of the curtains. Upstairs a tap ran. A cupboard closed. Then my mother’s voice, clearer than last night, came down the hall.“Aria? Is Uncle driving you home?”Julian stood, pulled on last night’s trousers,
Aria.“Aria? Is Uncle still awake?”My mother’s voice came through the ceiling thin and slurred. Julian’s cock was still buried in me. He had me in his arms at the study door, my legs around his waist, my bare ass in his hands. Every breath I took made him shift inside me.“Answer her,” he whispered against my ear. “Use the old word one last time. Then you never use it again.”I swallowed. My voice had to sound normal. “Yes, Mom. Uncle is still awake. He is taking care of it. Go back to sleep.”Silence. Then her door clicked shut upstairs.Julian pushed the study door open with his shoulder and carried me inside. He locked it. The click sounded louder than it should have. This was the room I used to sit in with a coloring book on the rug while he took calls at the desk. The same leather chairs. The same crystal paperweight I was never allowed to touch. The same dark wood I used to run my fingers along when no one was looking.He set me on the edge of the desk without pulling out. The
Aria.“Leave the cake, Aria.”His voice came from the doorway behind me, low and even, the same voice that used to ask if I wanted a second slice at every birthday. Tonight it did not sound like that. Tonight it sounded like he had been waiting for the last guest to pull out of the driveway.I kept my hands on the plastic container anyway. Vanilla frosting stuck to my thumb. The black dress I had worn all night clung to my hips because I had been sweating since he sang happy birthday and looked at my mouth instead of the candles.“Mom is upstairs,” I said. “She took one of her pills. She will not hear anything.”“I know what she took.” He stepped into the kitchen. The under cabinet lights caught the white of his shirt, the rolled sleeves, the watch I used to stare at when I was little and he handed me envelopes of cash. “I poured her the water myself. Put the container down.”I set it on the marble. My fingers left a smear of frosting. He walked until he stood close enough that I smel
Maren.“New list tomorrow.”That was the whole text. I was still on my bed with the first file sitting in Recents when it landed. No soft landing. No question. I locked the screen and put the phone on my stomach and listened to Mom run water down the hall like the house was still ordinary.It was not.I took the phone downstairs before I could invent courage. Mom was wiping the counter. I set it face-down next to the fruit bowl.“You are going to get jam on that,” she said.“I will move it.”I did not move it.Colton came through for water. He looked at the phone. He looked at me. He drank and left. Placement became the language. The file sat under glass where she made coffee and neither of us picked it up in front of her.He kept sending them.Not every night. Enough nights that my Recents stopped looking like a life. Grocery list. Grocery list 2. Grocery list Sunday. Always the same name so her eyes would slide off it. Always AirDropped while I was still trying to get my skirt down.
Maren.“Connect it to the car, baby. I cannot read that tiny screen in the sun.”Mom said it like it was nothing. Like I was still the daughter who made real lists. Like Colton was only her husband in the back seat and not the man who had fucked me against the washer eighteen hours ago and named the proof Grocery list.I was twenty-two. I had been back under their roof for eleven weeks, since the studio above the pharmacy grew black mold and stopped being legal to sleep in. Colton had married my mother four years earlier, when I still split nights between campus and a friend’s couch. I used to say his name because stepfather felt like a costume. Now I said it with his cock in me and a red timer running on a shelf.He sat behind me. One ankle over his knee. Sunglasses on. Quiet in the way that meant he was counting how often I swallowed.“Just play it,” he said.Mom glanced at him in the rearview. “See? Even Colton wants to get in and out. Lemons. The good bread. Whatever else you save
Maren.“Do not cover your mouth.”Colton had me against the washer with my skirt around my waist and his hand already between my legs when he said it. The dryer thundered behind us. Mom was in the front of the house on a call about a potluck. The laundry room door was shut. The lock was a thumb turn I had watched him twist.“Colton. She is twenty feet away.”“Then you better sound like you are folding sheets.” He dragged two fingers through me and swore under his breath. “Phone is on the shelf. Voice memo is already going. You come, I want the exact sound. No palm. No biting your wrist. Understand?”I looked at the shelf. His phone sat face up, red timer running.“You are recording this.”“I am recording you. There is a difference.” He pushed my panties aside and rubbed my clit with the pad of his thumb until my knees dipped. “Say you understand.”“I understand.”“Good. Hold the edge.”I held the edge of the washer. He freed his cock and dragged the head through me once, twice, then p
Ciara's POV I gulp. My legs are trembling. I'm breathing too fast. I can't look at him and not remember last night how I shamelessly came alive and gosh... My panties are sticky to my inner thighs. He puts his hands around my waist to settle me as he lowers his face to my chin, trailing his
Ciara's POV "Baby, must you go to work today?" I pout at Simon as we stood facing each other in the center of the room. "Of course I have to, darling, and you know that," he says impatiently. "It wouldn't tell well of me to sit at home a day after my dad's birthday celebration." I bit my l
CAIN'S POV I walked toward Ciara, but Simon quickly intercepted, running his hands all over her body and inquiring if she'd be okay. I step back. I had greeted my dad earlier and my mother wasn't even there. I think I'm done with this party too. I head downstairs to the first floor—still crowd
CAIN POV From the distance where I'm sitting, I watch Ciara tug a stray red lock behind her ears— the same nervous habit she had seven years ago. Some things about her never changed, not even after marrying my brother. She forces a fake smile as she bends to greet the guests, offering me an e







