Mom was asleep upstairs, the house dark and quiet except for the low hum of the fridge.
I couldn’t sleep—my body still ached from the basement, p***y sore and swollen, but the ache was the good kind. The kind that made me wet just remembering how hard Alex had f****d me.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Alex.
Kitchen. Now.
I’m thirsty.
I was downstairs in seconds, barefoot in just a tiny silk nightie that barely covered my ass, n*****s already hard against the cool fabric.
The kitchen was lit only by the under-cabinet lights, soft gold glow over the marble island.
Alex was leaning against the counter in nothing but boxer briefs, c**k straining against the thin cotton, eyes locked on me like a predator.
He didn’t speak.
He just crooked a finger.
I walked straight to him.
The s
