Reid bent me over the dining table before the coffee finished brewing.
Weeks in their house had taught me the shape of mornings. No movie. No lie. Just the rule I had agreed to on my knees in a frat living room and had not taken back. I was their live-in. Their nights. Their mess to make and not clean. He had said it plain the first morning, after they ruined me properly upstairs and Jonah tried the door one last time: they needed a live-in slut, not a guest. I had still been full of them when I said yes. I had meant it.
“Hands flat,” Reid said now.
I put them on the wood. The short gown was already bunched at my waist. No panties. He had taken those off with his teeth and left them on the chair Jonah would never sit in. Levi’s vibrator was on the table beside the sugar, off, waiting. M
