Riley should have knocked.
The thought came three seconds too late, her hand already frozen on the front door handle, her eyes fixing on the scene in the living room with the devastating clarity of a car crash.
She'd come home early — dorm closed, semester failed, pride shattered — and expected an empty house. Her mother was at work. Her new stepfather was traveling. And Sloane, her perfect, successful, ice-cold stepsister, was supposed to be at the law firm until eight.
Sloane was not at the law firm.
She was spread naked across the white leather couch — legs thrown over the back, spine arched, head dangling toward the floor so that her dark hair brushed the carpet.
Her breasts, full, perfect, n*****s hard and flushed, bounced with every movement of the woman kneeling between her t
