The following days blurred into a dangerous rhythm that Freya both craved and feared. Mornings started with innocent family breakfasts where Draven would sit across from her, looking every inch the respectable businessman, while his c*m still leaked slowly from her body. Afternoons brought stolen texts that made her blush in the middle of reading or sketching. Nights… nights were when the real sin happened.
On Wednesday, Victor left for an overnight trip to the city for a board meeting. The house felt different without him — emptier, yet charged with electricity. Freya knew what it meant. Draven knew too.
He didn’t even wait until dark.
Freya was in the library late that afternoon, curled up in the window seat with a book she wasn’t really reading, when the door clicked shut behind her.
