The house went quiet the way a reception dies. Aunties in cars. Music off. Mom’s heels on the stairs, then the bedroom door at the end of the hall. I stood in the guest room in the champagne dress with Graham’s c*m still slick in me and the vibrator still on low, and I did not take it out.
The knock was two taps. Not Mom.
Caleb came in without waiting and shut the door with his heel. Jacket gone. Tie loose. He looked at the hem of my dress, at the dark spot the panties had not been able to hold, and his mouth went tight.
“He said I could ask,” he said. “After they slept. They’re asleep. So I’m asking.”
I should have told him to leave. The toy jumped when I shifted, a mean little buzz against the mess his father had left, and my thighs pressed together like that would hide it. It didn’t
