Ivy.

“Cole? Ivy? I brought lunch.”

Mom’s voice is in the foyer. Cole is still inside me. His cum is already sliding down my thigh onto the blotter. My notebook is under my cheek, page two staring at me in my own ink.

He covers my mouth and whispers against my hair.

“Answer her.”

He thrusts once, deep, so the words come out wrecked.

“In the study,” I call. “We are busy.”

“Five minutes,” Mom says. “Sandwiches. Do not work through food.”

Her steps move toward the kitchen. Cole does not pull out. He picks up the notebook and reads page two like a threat.

“If he ever finds this,...