I made her wait until the next night.

All day Claire moved around the house like nothing had happened—making coffee for Dad, smiling when he kissed her cheek goodbye, acting like the perfect wife. But every time our eyes met across the kitchen or the living room, I saw the truth in hers. The memory of my tongue in her ass. My fingers stretching her. The way she’d sobbed into my pillow while she came for the fourth time.

By the time Dad left for another late shift, she was already trembling.

I found her in the hallway outside my bedroom, still fully dressed, arms wrapped around herself.

“Alex…” Her...