chapter 5. The Morning After I Filled Myself With His Father

Sunlight cut through the blinds and landed across my bare thighs. I woke sticky between my legs, Samuel’s cum dried on my skin, the ache inside me a deep, satisfying throb that made me smile before I even opened my eyes. The guest room still smelled like sex and the faint trace of his cologne. I stretched slow, felt the pull in my hips, and let the memory of his thick cock stretching me open roll through my body like heat.

Owen was already in the kitchen when I walked down wearing only his shirt from the night before. Coffee steamed in his hand. He looked at my legs, at the way the shirt barely covered me, and something tight moved across his face.

“You slept in here again,” he said.

“I did.” I poured my own coffee and leaned against the counter like I had all the time in the world. “Your father was home last night.”

Owen’s grip on the mug tightened. “What does that mean?”

I sipped the coffee and held his eyes. “It means the house isn’t as empty as you think. It means you should be careful what doors you leave unlocked.”

He stepped closer. The scent of last night’s whiskey still clung to him under the soap. “Kiera, we need to talk about us. About fixing this.”

“There is no us to fix.” I set the mug down and let the shirt slip off one shoulder. “There is only the version of us the world gets to see. Smile for the cameras. Hold my hand when people are watching. Fuck whoever you want when they’re not. Just remember I get to do the same.”

His jaw flexed. For a second I thought he might grab me. Instead he turned and walked out. The front door slammed hard enough to rattle the glass.

I waited until the sound of his car faded. Then I went looking for Samuel.

He was in his study, dressed for the office in a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up, papers spread across the desk. The second I stepped inside and locked the door he looked up. Heat flared in his eyes before he could hide it. I walked around the desk, pushed the chair back with my knee, and straddled his lap without a word.

“Someone could come home,” he said, but his hands were already on my bare thighs under the shirt.

“Then you’ll have to be quiet while I ride you.”

I freed his cock from his pants. He was already hard, thick and heavy in my hand, the head flushed and wet. I stroked him once, smearing the precome down the shaft, then lifted up and sank down onto him in one slow, deliberate glide. The stretch pulled a soft moan from both of us. My pussy was still sensitive from last night, but the burn only made everything sharper. I took every inch until I was fully seated, stuffed full, my clit pressed tight against him.

Samuel’s head dropped back against the chair. “Christ, Kiera…”

I started moving. Slow at first, rolling my hips so he dragged along every sensitive place inside me. The wet sound of my cunt taking him filled the quiet study. His hands gripped my ass hard, guiding me, lifting me, pulling me back down onto his cock like he couldn’t stand being even halfway out.

“You feel that?” I whispered against his mouth. “That’s your son’s fiancée’s pussy wrapped around you at nine in the morning. You’re going to sit through meetings later with my wetness still on your cock.”

He groaned and thrust up hard. The chair creaked. I braced my hands on his shoulders and rode him faster, chasing the friction, letting my tits bounce under the thin shirt until he shoved the fabric up and sucked one nipple into his mouth. His tongue was hot and rough. Teeth scraped just enough to make my pussy clench around him.

“Harder,” I ordered. “Fuck me like you own it.”

Samuel stood with me still impaled on his cock, turned, and laid me back across the desk. Papers scattered. He shoved my knees high and wide and started pounding into me with deep, powerful strokes that made the desk shake. Every thrust punched a wet sound out of my cunt. I could feel him so deep it stole my breath. My clit throbbed every time his body slapped against it.

“Look at this pussy,” he growled, eyes locked on where we were joined. “Taking every inch. So fucking greedy for me.”

“It’s yours,” I panted. “Fill it. Come inside me again. I want to walk around this house with your cum dripping down my thighs while your son pretends everything is fine.”

He fucked me harder. The wet slap of skin on skin grew louder. My orgasm built fast and brutal, coiling tight in my belly until it snapped. I came with a broken cry, pussy spasming around his cock, soaking him. Samuel followed with a guttural sound, burying himself to the root and pulsing thick ropes of cum deep inside me. I felt every hot spurt. He kept grinding through it, forcing it deeper, until we were both shaking and slick with sweat.

For a long moment he stayed inside me, breathing hard against my neck. When he finally pulled out, a thick trickle of his cum followed, sliding down over my ass. He watched it with dark eyes, then reached down and pushed two fingers back into my pussy, working his release deeper like he couldn’t stand the thought of any of it leaving.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, voice rough.

I sat up on the edge of the desk, legs still open, and pulled him in by the collar of his shirt. “No. I’m going to be the best thing that ever happened to you. And the worst thing that ever happened to your son.”

I kissed him slow and filthy, tasting the coffee on his tongue and the hunger he could no longer hide. Then I slid off the desk, let the shirt fall back into place, and walked out of the study with his cum still leaking out of me.

Owen’s car was still gone. The house felt bigger somehow, quieter, like it was already starting to belong to me. I made another cup of coffee and stood at the kitchen window, thighs pressed together to hold the wetness inside a little longer.

The plan was no longer just revenge.

It was ownership.

And I had only just begun to take what was mine.