The next twenty-four hours were pure torment wrapped in normalcy.
Elena moved through the house like nothing had happened, wearing another one of those short sundresses that barely covered her ass, smiling sweetly at Dad while she cooked breakfast, her hand brushing mine “accidentally” every time she passed the coffee pot. I couldn’t look at her without remembering the thick black strap-on stretching me open, the taste of her c*m on my tongue, the way she’d made me squirt all over my own sheets while my father snored down the hall.
Every time our eyes met across the room, she gave me that slow, knowing smile—the one that said she owned my p***y now.
Dad was clueless, kissing her on the cheek before leaving for the office, telling me to “have a good day studying” like I was still his in
