The kitchen tile was cold under my bare feet.
Reed walked me to the counter, one hand on the back of my neck, the other already working his belt the rest of the way open. He didn’t rush. He set my phone face-down on the granite, then turned me so my hips hit the edge and my palms braced on the cool surface.
“Stay just like that,” he said. “Ass out. Legs apart. I want to see how much you leaked on the walk over.”
I obeyed. The air hit the mess on my thighs. Reed stepped in behind me, freed his c**k, and dragged the head through how wet I was. He was thick. Hot. He didn’t push in. He just rubbed, slow and filthy, while he talked.
“Your stepdad trusts me with the spare key,” he murmured. “Told me to check on the house. Make sure his sweet little stepdaughter wasn’t getting into trouble wh
