Lila’s legs were still shaky as she slipped back into the house through the side entrance, Victor’s c*m still trickling down the inside of her thigh. She’d barely fixed her bikini before Sophia rounded the corner, all fake smiles and curious eyes. The stepsister had asked something innocent about swimming, but Lila could barely form words. All she could feel was the sticky mess between her legs and the deep, satisfied ache where Victor had wrecked her.
She needed a shower. Desperately.
But as she padded down the hallway toward the grand staircase, Elena stepped out from the kitchen alcove like a ghost. The 28-year-old housekeeper was beautiful in a quiet, dangerous way — dark hair pulled into a sleek bun, sharp cheekbones, and eyes that had clearly seen too much in this house.
“Miss Lil
