Sunlight poured through the tall windows of the Voss dining room the next morning, too bright, too normal for the sin that had taken place just floors above it hours earlier. Freya sat across from her father, pushing eggs around her plate while trying to ignore the delicious ache between her legs. Every shift in her chair reminded her of Draven — how deep he’d gone, how hard he’d f****d her, how he’d filled her until his c*m had leaked down her thighs on the way back to her bed.
Victor Voss looked every bit the successful businessman in his crisp shirt, reading the financial papers while sipping coffee. “Glad you’re home, sweetheart. The house has been too quiet without you.”
Freya forced a smile. “Missed you too, Dad.”
The words tasted like ash. Guilt twisted in her stomach, but it was
