Page 20 of Katie 3

He groans, then goes ragged, and with two more deep thrusts, he breaks. I feel him spill inside me as he bites down on my shoulder, muffling his own moan. His heartbeat hammers wild against my back, matching my own.

With his face buried in my hair and neck, his breathing slows, and he whispers. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

Henry

I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t see a way out. I still don’t. I never wanted her to get pregnant. I still can’t believe she is. This changes everything for us, and I can’t shake the unease of not knowing if I’ll step into the role of a father or a grandfather. My stomach churns at the thought and I inhale deeply, letting Katie’s sweet scent calm me.

She wouldn’t leave me, not daring to, and now she’s curled against me in my room.

I know she hates the separate rooms, but it’s better that way. She needs a safe place from all of us. A place where she can be alone, free from the three demanding dicks around her. She’s all hormones and stress, and we’ve all been taking turns ruining herbody. But as she lies there in my sheets, so small and soft, every part of me aches to touch her again.

The guilt is there, and the tenderness, but neither stops the pulse that picks up speed when I slide my hand across her hip and feel her warmth. My palm is broad enough to cover her from navel to thigh, and she curls into it, mumbling in her sleep. There’s a freckle below her collarbone, a mark I’ve memorized, and I watch it rise and fall as she breathes.

I could leave it there. I should. But I don’t. I lift the blanket and look at her, at the outline of her hips, the subtle curve of her breast spilling from the edge of her bra, the soft lines of her stomach. Her breasts are a tad heavier than before and I drag my thumb across the curve of one, slow and deliberate. She shivers but doesn’t wake. The nipple hardens beneath my thumb, a perfect pink peak that calls to my mouth.

I fight for control, but I’m weak for her. I lean down, pull the cup down, and let my lips brush her skin, then circle her nipple with my tongue. She shifts, but it’s not enough, so I suck, careful not to hurt her, just enough to draw a gasp from her lips. The sound electrifies me. I knead both breasts, greedy, and keep licking, keep teasing, until the softest whimper escapes her throat.

“Fuck, angel,” I breathe against her skin. “I need you again.”

I run my hands up her waist, then down, my touch feather light as I trace the border of her panties. She doesn’t move when I slip my fingers inside and find her already wet for me, and I groan, because my cock is hard and aching.

I tease her, one fingertip at a time.

She sighs, quiet, but her thighs spread a fraction, her muscles eager but still asleep. I go slow. I savor every twitch and flutter, breathing her in, the scent of her arousal mixing with the faint soap she uses and the bitter edge of my own need.

I circle her clit, gentle and patient, until her breaths stutter against my chest. She’s dreaming of me, I think—has to be, with the way her lips part and her tongue darts out, wetting them.

I ease two fingers in and out, shallow at first, then deeper, curling them until I feel the little spasm that means she’s close. She moans, barely a sound, and I slow, drawing her back from the brink.

Not yet, not without me.

I press my hand between her legs, just steady pressure, and draw my other hand down, palming my hard cock. I stroke once, twice, and have to grit my teeth so I don’t finish right there.

“So needy, even in your sleep,” I groan.

My thumb swirls over her clit, fingers rocking deep inside her. I keep her pinned tight until she shudders, then opens, soaking my hand. I watch her face—beautiful, ruined, content.

I feel her clench around my fingers, feel the pulse and flood of her orgasm even as she sleeps. God, she’s beautiful. Face flushed, lips parted, limbs trembling. I keep stroking, coaxing every last spasm out of her, my own hand working my cock in time.

I come as she does, silent but fierce, coating her hip with thick, hot streams. The sight of it, the mess I’ve made of her, the way she sighs in her sleep and curls her legs tight, makes me want to start over, to never let her come down.

Chapter eleven

Carter

Dad’s files are scattered around his office, the scent of sex still lingers, and a smile tugs on my lips. I needed them together, needed my dad to focus on her. He won’t share his plans, not after Brad shared the recording with him.

And I fear there’s no way out.

I get started by picking all the files from the ground and putting them on his desk. Surveillance shots of Dan in a parking lot, timestamped and grainy, catch my eye, Dan’s face caught in a half-smirk as he accepts an envelope from some greasy college-age guy. The file behind it is a transcript of a phone call, a PI’s notes in shorthand, then a printed-out copy with all the abbreviations replaced. The words“controlled substance”and“possible intent”are circled in blue. I mouth the words as I read: “If we get him on a drug charge, he loses his leverage. Drops the case. Maybe even flips.”

Henry always said I had his brain but not his appetite for blood. It’s a lie. The difference is that I don’t like to be caught. Sothe fact that Dad’s already two steps ahead of me on this is both annoying and comforting.

I keep flipping through photos, call logs, what has to be a truly depressing Facebook deep-dive, until I find a list of names and times. All girls. Most I vaguely recognize as undergrad students. A few are circled. Victims? Witnesses? Potential PR disasters? The last name on the list is Katie, and next to it, Dad’s handwriting:“Off limits. Clean.”

I continue scanning, piecing together a timeline. The PI has been talking to everyone who’s ever known or crossed Dan, going back to high school. Some is the expected blackmail, old texts sent, weird online shit, the time he was suspended for “locker room activity,” but other pages are stranger, darker, written in my father’s tidy lawyer hand.

“He’s not trying to exonerate Brad,” I mutter, flipping through another sheet. “He’s going to force Dan to drop the charges, or at least put him on ice.”

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