I should have locked my door.
Instead I stood under the hot spray of the shower and watched my husband’s son’s c*m slide down my thighs and disappear into the drain. My hands were shaking. My p***y was still swollen and sensitive from how hard he had f****d me over the kitchen counter. Every time the water hit my c**t I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
When I finally stepped out and dried off, I didn’t put the nightie back on. I didn’t put anything on. I walked down the hall naked, heart hammering, and stopped in front of the guest room door.
It was already open.
Cane was sitting on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, elbows on his knees, watching me like he had been waiting. His eyes dragged slowly down my body—wet hair, bare t**s, the soft curve of my stomach, the bare,
