ฉันนี่แหละนักเลงขนมหวาน "ฟันน้ำนม" แห่งพระนครยุค 2500

Sable’s POV

I was nineteen when Corin’s best friend came groaning my name with his fist around his cock.

“Fuck.”

Another moan, deeper, almost angry.

“Sable. Mm—fuck.”

Corin had been bringing him into this house for years like a second son — eight years older, off-limits, the kind of man you do not look at too long if you still want to sleep at night.

He called my father sir. He called my brother by a nickname nobody else was allowed to use. He called me nothing at all.

Until my bathroom door failed to latch.

I should have turned around. My foot stayed on the step instead, because the coldest man I knew was behind my door moaning my name like it tasted good.

A swallowed ah that made my stomach drop. The wet sound of his hand speeding up.

He was not being gentle with himself. He was using me in his head and letting the house hear what that did to him.

“Sable—don’t. Don’t stop. Just—”

A groan tore out of him, low and dirty, the sound of a man who had given up on pride.

I looked.

Three seconds. Wet dark hair. My towel slung useless around his hips. His fist wrapped around himself, thick and flushed and shining at the tip, stroking hard.

Water ran down the scars on his chest. His head was tipped back. His mouth was open on another moan when my name spilled out of it.

“Sable.”

It was almost a whimper that time. Almost. Then it turned into a growl.

His eyes snapped toward the crack in the door.

Hunger first.

Then fury.

“Shit! Get out!”

I froze. I could still hear the echo of that moan in my spine. I could still see his hand locked around himself like he had been seconds from finishing with me on his tongue.

“Now!”

I ran.

My bedroom door slammed hard enough to rattle the frame. I turned the lock with fingers that would not stay steady and backed up until my calves hit the bed.

I never thought I would catch him like that.

Rhett Voss. Corin’s best friend. The man who had walked through this house for years without looking at me like I was a person with a mouth and a name. I had been furniture to him. A kid in the hallway. The girl who disappeared when the men sat down.

Today was different.

He had moaned my name like it tasted good. He had used his hand and my name in the same breath. He had looked at me with hunger first and fury second, and I could still see his fist locked around himself, seconds from finishing with me on his tongue.

My heart would not slow down.

I pressed my palms to my face. It did not help. I could still hear that swallowed ah. The wet sound. Sable—don’t. Don’t stop.

“Sable!” Corin’s voice climbed the stairs. “Dinner! Get down here!”

I dragged the ugliest hoodie I owned over my head. Hair in a knot. No makeup. If I looked like his little sister hard enough, maybe Rhett would stop looking at me like I was something he had already had in his hand.

I went downstairs.

They were already at the table.

Dad at the head. Corin in his usual seat. Rhett beside him, damp hair, dark shirt, jaw locked like dinner was a punishment. He was not watching the doorway this time. He was already sitting in my house like he belonged there.

I belonged across from my brother. That put me close enough to see Rhett’s mouth. The same mouth.

“Hey, my lil girl,” Dad said. “Come on. You must be hungry. You still remember Rhett? It’s been a long time since you guys met, I guess.”

I sat. I did not trust my voice enough to do more than nod.

Rhett’s eyes lifted to mine.

“Of course she remembers me,” he said. “Right, Sable?”

The words were polite. The voice was not. It came out low and tight, the leftover rasp of a man who had just been moaning in my bathroom.

Corin turned his head. “What’s wrong, man? Something happened between you two?”

The air went thin.

I stared at my plate.

Rhett did not look at Corin when he answered. He looked at me.

“No. Nothing happened. Jet lag, I guess.”

Liar.

Dad passed the food like the table was normal. Corin bought it enough to grin.

“You should stay here tonight,” Corin said. “We need to spend the whole night together. Beers. Pool. Like old times.”

“Yes,” Dad said. “Guest room’s ready. Sheets are on. No argument.”

Rhett’s jaw flexed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

I did not say anything.

I did not want him down the hall from my locked door with my name still sitting in his throat.

I ate almost nothing and let them talk around me — drills, flights, how long it had been, how good it was to have him back.

Every time I swallowed, I heard him groan.

Every time he said my name in that careful dinner voice, I heard the filthy one under it.

When the plates were empty, Corin clapped Rhett’s shoulder.

“Pool. Now. Dad already turned the lights on.”

“Give me a minute,” Rhett said.

“Don’t do the mysterious thing,” Corin said. “I’m pouring.”

They went. I heard the sliding door. Dad’s laugh. Water. The easy sound of men who thought the house was finished with secrets for the night.

I stayed for the dishes on purpose.

Kitchen empty. Sink on. If I kept my hands in hot water long enough, I could pretend the upstairs door had never opened.

I was wrong.

“We need to talk.”

I turned so fast a plate clicked against the counter.

Rhett stood in the doorway. Not at the pool. Not with my brother. Shoulders filling the only way out, eyes on me like dinner had been a long delay.

“Talk about what?” I said.

He came closer.

Not touching yet. Close enough that I had to tip my chin up. Close enough that I could smell my soap on his skin.

“Don’t pretend, Sable.” His voice dropped. “You know exactly what it is.”

I said nothing.

His gaze flicked to my mouth, then to the dark glass where the pool lights moved, then back to me.

“Outside,” he said. “Now.”