CHAPTER 2
CHLOE
The next morning I’m at the counter in Ryan’s T-shirt again, pretending to pour orange juice, legs still shaky from last night. My p***y is swollen, tender, dripping the second I think about him inside me.
Ryan walks in wearing only gray sweatpants, hair messy, eyes locked on me like prey.
“Morning, baby girl,” he says, voice rough with sleep.
I smile all sweet. “Morning, Ryan. Want coffee?”
He doesn’t answer. Just steps behind me, lifts me by the waist, and sets my bare ass on the cold marble counter right next to the humming coffee maker.
“Spread your legs,” he orders.
I do, instantly, thighs falling open. The T-shirt rides up to my waist.
“Look at this pretty p***y,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees. “Still leaking Daddy’s c*m from last night.”
His mouth is on
