Rae's POV

He leaned forward, chest brushing my back as he whispered into my ear:

“I’m gonna take you slow first. Just because it’s your first time. Don’t get used to it.”

I shivered.

His hand slid around my waist, down to my stomach… then lower… until his fingers found the sensitive, swollen part of me.

I jolted, moaning.

“Still so wet,” he murmured. “Good girl.”

He teased me slowly, circling with maddening gentleness, while his other hand pushed his sweatpants down just enough for him to be free.

I felt him - hot, thick, throbbing - press against me.

My whole body tensed.

“Relax,” he said softly, kissing my shoulder. “Daddy’s got you.”

I exhaled shakily.

He guided himself with one hand, rubbing the tip slowly along my entrance, using my own wetness to make it easier.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered.

“I - I want it.”

“Louder.”

“I want it, Daddy,” I breathed, voice trembling.

He groaned - deep, guttural - and slowly, carefully, pushed in.

Just the tip.

My breath left my body in a broken gasp.

“Daddy-”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, kissing the back of my neck. “You’re doing so good.”

He eased in another inch, holding my hips in steady hands, controlling every movement.

My fingers dug into the sheets.

“It’s… it’s big,” I whispered, barely breathing.

He rested his forehead on my shoulder, voice ragged.

“I know, kitten. I know.”

His hands slid up to my waist again, steadying me.

“I’m gonna go slow. Just for now.”

He pushed in another inch-

and my body clenched around him involuntarily.

He cursed quietly under his breath, gripping my hips harder.

“Fuck… you’re so tight.”

I whimpered, back arching as he kissed my shoulder, my neck, the side of my jaw - soft, soothing, patient.

Little by little, he pushed deeper until he was fully inside, hips pressed against mine, chest pressed to my back.

I felt full.

Stretched.

Claimed.

He stayed still for a moment, letting me breathe through the feeling.

“You okay?” he whispered into my ear.

“Yes,” I breathed shakily. “Feels… good.”

He kissed my cheek.

“Good girl.”

Then he pulled back slowly - agonizingly slow - and pushed in again, gentle but deep.

A soft moan escaped me.

I couldn’t help it.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice shaking a little. “Take it. You’re doing so well.”

Slow thrust after slow thrust - my body adjusted, opened, melted around him.

And when he felt me relax, when my moans turned into soft, breathy whimpers-

His hands tightened on my hips.

“Now I can move.”

I gasped. “Daddy…”

He thrust deeper, a little harder, pushing a sharp moan out of me.

“So good,” he growled. “So fucking good.”

His hips met mine again and again, controlled, gentle, but deep enough to make my toes curl.

My body rocked with every movement.

My hands clenched the sheets.

My voice broke in tiny sounds I couldn’t hide.

“You like this?” he breathed, kissing the back of my neck.

“Yes… Daddy.”

“You want me to go faster?”

“Yes,” I begged softly. “Please.”

He groaned - low, primal.

“Then hold on to the headboard.”

My breath stuttered.

I reached forward, gripping it tight.

His hands slid up my back, down again, claiming every inch as he positioned himself.

Then he thrust harder. Faster. Deeper.

The bed shook. My breath caught.

Pleasure shot through me so fast I cried out.

“That’s it,” he growled, voice raw. “Give it to me.”

His hand slid around to my clit, rubbing fast, perfect circles while his hips snapped against mine.

“Daddy…Daddy, I’m-”

“Come,” he commanded.

My entire body broke apart-

shaking, moaning, legs trembling violently as the orgasm ripped through me.

I nearly collapsed.

He caught me, pulling me up against his chest as he thrust a few more times, voice strained, breath hot and wild.

Then he groaned my name against my neck, deep and rough, as he followed me over the edge.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

His arms wrapped around me.

My body limp against him.

Our breaths tangled and uneven.

My body was still trembling when he eased out of me and pulled me gently against his chest.

He stayed behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist from the back. His breathing brushed the side of my neck - deep, steady, calmer now. I felt his heartbeat against my spine… slow, heavy, grounding.

He tilted my chin up with two fingers.

“Come here,” he murmured.

He turned my body toward him carefully, like I was something soft he didn’t want to break.

Then he leaned in and kissed me - not rough, not hungry… slow. Painfully slow.

His lips moved against mine with a gentleness that didn’t match the way he had just taken me. Every kiss was warm, unhurried, like he was memorizing the way I tasted.

His hands slid up my sides, dragging warmth over my skin, until they reached my breasts. He cupped them gently - no squeezing at first, just holding, thumbs stroking lazily across my nipples.

A shiver ran through me.

His lips brushed mine again, softer this time, like a whisper in the dark.

“Relax,” he said quietly.

His thumbs circled my nipples slowly, teasing but gentle, sending little waves of heat through me. His touch wasn’t demanding; it was soft, patient… almost surprising.

Another slow kiss. Another soft squeeze.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, brushing hair behind my ear.

“I’m… I’m okay,” I whispered.

He kissed my cheek. “I know. But you need to rest.”

His hand slid down my side and pulled me fully into his chest. He tugged the blanket over my legs, keeping his body pressed against me like he wanted to shield me from the whole world.

He cupped my breast again - softly this time, almost idle - his thumb brushing over it in lazy, slow strokes.

Not teasing, basically just… touching.

The kind of touch that made my eyes grow heavy immediately.

He kissed the corner of my mouth, slow and tender.

“You did so well,” he whispered.

My body melted.

His fingers brushed my jaw, comforting. “Sleep, kitten.”

I blinked up at him surprised. Zara had said they left immediately they were done. “You’re staying?”

He smoothed my hair back gently. “Yeah. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Then he kissed me again - one last slow, soft kiss, deep enough to warm me from the inside, gentle enough to undo me entirely.

His hand gave my breast one more soft squeeze before settling around my waist.

“Sleep,” he whispered into my hair.

“That’s an order.”

And with his arms around me, his warmth sinking into my bones, I finally let my eyes close.

Rae's POV

I woke up for the 2nd time feeling like my entire body had been rewritten.

I lay there in Zara’s bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second. I left there earlier and headed to Zara’s place.

His hands. His mouth.

The way he whispered praise like it was holy. The tongue piercing.

The kiss on my forehead after I came so hard I forgot my name.

I pressed my legs together.

And still - my body tingled.

“Rae?” Zara’s voice broke through the haze. “You alive?”

I turned my head slowly.

She stood at the door with two mugs of coffee and the world’s most annoying smirk.

“Well,” she drawled. “Do I get the post-sin breakdown or what?”

I groaned. “I’m too sore to sit up.”

She squealed, jumping onto the bed like a 5-year-old.

“No way. Was he hot? Like hot hot?”

I blinked. “He had a tongue piercing.”

Zara dropped her mug on the nightstand like she’d just heard God speak.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“On his tongue?!”

“And tattoos. Everywhere.”

Zara clutched her chest. “Oh, you definitely got picked by one of the Room 40s. That’s where the real men live.”

I nodded slowly. “He… took his time.”

“Girl, you are glowing. I feel like I should applaud.”

I laughed and covered my face with a pillow. “Can we pretend this didn’t happen now?”

“Nope.” She sipped her coffee. “You’ve officially been corrupted. No turning back now.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I wasn’t the same girl who walked into that room.

And I sure as hell wasn’t the same girl walking into my mother’s house that morning.

~~~~~

When I got home, the front door was already open.

We lived in one of those fancy neighborhoods with manicured lawns and annoying birds that chirped too loudly.

I kicked off my heels at the door and padded inside quietly, hoping to sneak into my room and sleep off the heat still buzzing in my veins.

But I heard voices. From the living room.

My mom’s cheerful laugh. And a deeper voice.

Male.

I paused.

There was someone here?

I adjusted my skirt and cleared my throat before stepping in.

“Hey, Mom, I’m-”

My entire body stopped mid-word.

And my soul left my body.

Because standing in the middle of the living room, holding a coffee mug in one hand and smirking like the devil himself…

Was him.

Killian.

In jeans. Black t-shirt hugging his broad chest. Hair wet like he just showered.

And the same blue eyes that had watched me fall apart just hours ago.

My stomach dropped.

My knees nearly buckled.

I gripped the wall for support.

He looked at me.

Calm. Confident.

His tongue piercing glinted for half a second when he sipped from the mug.

He knew.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, Rae!” my mom chirped. “Finally! I wanted you to meet our guest.”

I blinked at her.

Guest?

She motioned toward him.

“This is Killian Hale. Your stepfather’s brother.”

No.

No.

No.

I must’ve heard that wrong.

Killian smiled, slow and sharp, like a wolf dressed in Sunday best.

“Nice to meet you… Rae.”

His voice.

The same one that told me to open my legs last night.

The same one that called me kitten while his mouth was on my-

I nearly choked.

My mother kept going, blissfully oblivious to the flames exploding inside me.

“Victor didn’t want me to tell you until he got back from his trip. Killian’s staying in the pool house for a while. Isn’t that lovely?”

I nodded slowly. Or maybe I just swayed.

The room felt sideways.

I couldn’t breathe.

He stepped forward, extending a hand.

Like this was the first time we were meeting.

Like he hadn’t had his tongue inside me just hours ago.

Like he hadn’t said he wanted to ruin me.

I stared at his hand like it was a bomb.

He arched a brow.

Play along, his eyes seemed to say.

I swallowed and reached out - his fingers closed around mine.

Firm. Warm. Familiar.

Too familiar.

The second our skin touched, a rush of heat traveled straight to my core. My cheeks burned.

“Rae,” he said, still holding my hand. “You look… different from how I imagined you.”

My breath caught.

My mom laughed. “She’s shy.”

Killian smiled. “She wasn’t last night.”

Not out loud.

Just with his eyes.

And the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that told me he was enjoying this.

I yanked my hand back. “I - I need to go lie down.”

“Late night?” he asked casually.

My head snapped toward him.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

My mom nodded. “Zara’s been dragging her out to clubs again, hasn’t she?”

I forced a laugh. “Something like that.”

“Well, Killian’s going to be around for a while,” she said. “Maybe you two can get to know each other better.”

I nearly passed out.

Killian just smiled.

“I’d like that.”

~~~~~

I locked myself in my room and collapsed against the door.

My heart was still trying to claw its way out of my chest.

Of all the men in the club…

Of all the rooms…

I’d given my firsts to my stepdad’s brother.

And now he was sleeping twenty feet away in our pool house.

Sipping coffee with my mom.

Looking at me like he already owned my body.

My phone buzzed.

A text.

Unknown Number:

Your mouth said “yes.”

Your eyes said “please.”

And your body?

It’s still mine, kitten.

I threw my phone onto the bed and buried my face in my hands.

What the hell had I done?

And worse…

Why did I want to do it again?

Rae’s POV

The rest of the day crawled by in a haze of torture.

I hid in my room, pretending to study, pretending to breathe normally, pretending I wasn’t hyper-aware of every footstep in the hallway.

Every time the floorboards creaked, my heart slammed against my ribs.

Every time he laughed at something on his phone, the low rumble seeped through the walls and slid straight between my thighs.

By six o’clock I was a wreck.

I came downstairs for water (liar, I came downstairs because I was starving for the sight of him) and found him leaning against the kitchen island, one hand in his pocket, the other scrolling lazily on his phone.

Black T-shirt stretched across his chest, gray sweatpants hanging criminal-low. He didn’t even look up, but the corner of his mouth curved like he could smell my desperation from across the room.

I was halfway to the fridge when the front door burst open.

Mom rushed in, already flustered, phone pressed to her ear.

“Yes, yes, Marissa, I’m packing right now. I’ll be there in three hours.”

She ended the call, tossed her keys into the bowl, and looked between us like she’d only just remembered we existed.

“Sweetheart,” she said, breathless, “Marissa’s mother had a fall. Broken hip. I’m driving up tonight and staying the week to help. The guest room at their place is tiny, so I’ll just sleep there.”

My stomach flipped.

A whole week.

Alone.

With him.

Killian finally lifted his head. His eyes met mine over Mom’s shoulder, blue and wicked and unreadable.

Mom didn’t notice. She was already rummaging for her overnight bag.

“Killian, honey,” she said, turning to him with that sweet, trusting smile, “would you mind keeping an eye on Rae for me? She burns water when left unsupervised, and I don’t want her ordering takeout for seven days straight.”

He pushed off the counter, slow and graceful, and walked over. Every step felt like it sucked the oxygen from the room.

“Of course, Lisa,” he said, voice velvet and polite. “I’ll take good care of her.”

The way he said it (low, deliberate, eyes locked on me) made my knees threaten to fold.

Mom beamed, completely oblivious. “You’re an angel. There’s lasagna in the freezer, and the pool house is fully stocked if you two want to—”

“We’ll be fine,” he cut in gently. “Drive safe.”

Two minutes later she was kissing my cheek, telling me to text her when I woke up, and then the front door shut.

The house went terrifyingly quiet.

I heard the click of the deadbolt.

Then his footsteps.

Slow.

Measured.

Coming for me.

I didn’t move from the spot by the fridge. My fingers curled around the cold handle like it could save me.

He stopped right behind me. Close enough that the heat of his body licked up my spine.

“Turn around, kitten.”

My breath shook out of me.

I turned.

His hand came up instantly, cupping my jaw, thumb pressing into my lower lip. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them, pupils blown wide.

“Seven days,” he said, voice rough. “Seven nights. No one to hear you scream my name.”

Then his mouth crashed into mine.

It wasn’t a kiss; it was a claiming. Hungry, filthy, teeth and tongue and the cold shock of his piercing dragging over my bottom lip.

I whimpered into him, and he swallowed the sound, backing me up until my spine hit the fridge door with a metallic thud.

His hands were everywhere, sliding under my cropped hoodie, palms hot against my bare waist, dragging up to cup my breasts through the thin lace of my bra. He groaned when he found me already hard for him, nipples straining against the fabric.

“Still sore?” he rasped against my mouth.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Good.”

He pinched one nipple, rolled it between his fingers until I cried out, then soothed it with a slow circle of his thumb.

His mouth dropped to my neck, open-mouthed kisses, sucking hard enough to bruise, marking me where Mom would never see.

I clutched his shoulders, dizzy, drowning.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and yanked them down in one rough motion, taking my panties with them.

Cool air hit my skin, and then his hand was between my thighs, cupping me possessively.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re soaked already.”

Two thick fingers slid through my folds, spreading me open, teasing my entrance without pushing in. I tried to rock against him, but he pressed his forearm across my hips, pinning me to the fridge.

“Greedy girl,” he murmured, biting my earlobe. “You’ll take what I give you.”

Then he pushed inside.

Two fingers, slow and deliberate, stretching me open. My head fell back against the fridge with a soft thud. He curled them instantly, stroking that spot that made my thighs shake.

“Look at you,” he growled, pumping slowly. “Taking me so well.”

He added a third finger, scissoring gently, stretching me further. The burn was perfect (sharp pleasure laced with the memory of last night). I could hear how wet I was, the slick sounds filling the kitchen, obscene and intoxicating.

His thumb found my clit, circling in tight, ruthless strokes.

I was already climbing, embarrassingly fast.

“Daddy—” I choked.

“Not yet.”

He pulled his fingers out.

I whined at the loss, but then he brought them to my lips, glistening with me.

“Open.”

I parted my lips without thinking.

He slid all three fingers into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue so I tasted myself - sweet, salty, filthy. His eyes flared as he watched me suck him clean, cheeks hollowed, tongue swirling around the digits like I was starving for it.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice gravel. “Now get on your knees.”

My legs almost gave out.

He stepped back just enough to give me room. I sank down slowly, the cold tile biting into my knees, my leggings still bunched around my thighs.

He looked down at me (towering, dark, beautiful) and dragged his thumb across my wet lower lip.

“Hands behind your back.”

I obeyed.

He reached down, hooked a finger under my chin, and tilted my face up.

“Seven days, kitten,” he said again, softer this time, almost reverent. “I’m going to ruin you so completely you’ll feel me even when I’m not inside you.”

Then he tangled his fingers in my hair, tugged my head back gently, and smiled like the devil who’d finally come to collect.

“Now open that pretty mouth and show Daddy how grateful you are.”