Chapter 14

I slowly blink my eyes open. The morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. I stretch like a cat, feeling the heat radiating from the body behind me, a reminder of last night. It takes a moment for the fog of sleep to lift, but when it does, a realization hits me like a ton of bricks—I"m in Atlas" bed.

Images from last night flood my mind, each one hotter than the last. The way his lips felt on mine, the electric touch of his hands trailing over my skin, the soft whispers of affection that filled the air—it was everything I had ever imagined and more. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I recall the look on his face as he came.

Breaking through the blissful haze, a thought nags at me; why did Ali get a restraining order against them? How did I not know? And more importantly, why didn"t Grandma tell me?

I shift slightly, and when something hard presses against my ass, a muffled giggle escapes me. Glancing down, I notice Atlas" arm draped possessively around my waist.

With a sigh, I carefully remove it and slip out of bed, the cool air making me shiver. Tiptoeing across the hardwood floor, I make my way to the bathroom, flicking on the light.

I turn on the shower and the sound of running water fills the room. Stepping in, the hot spray washes away the remnants of sleep and the smell of sex. I tilt my head back, letting it cascade over me, releasing some of the tension in my sore muscles.

I reach for the shampoo, the scent of cedarwood and citrus a solid reminder that I'm in Atlas' shower. With gentle fingertips, I massage it into my scalp relishing the sensation.

Leaning my head back, I rinse away the suds and grab the body wash. Its fragrance awakening my senses.

After what feels like an eternity, I reluctantly turn off the water and step out onto the plush bath mat, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel. I dry myself off before reaching for Atlas" toothbrush, my lips quirking up at the thought of sharing such an intimate object with him. I brought mine but I left my bag downstairs and I'm not making two trips.

Once my teeth are brushed and my hair is wrapped in a towel turban, I leave the bathroom, feeling refreshed. My eyes fall on Atlas" dresser, and without hesitation, I reach for one of his shirts, relishing in the familiar scent that clings to the fabric.

As I pull it over my head, I can"t help but wonder what the day will bring. Despite the uncertainty looming on the horizon, one thing is for certain—I wouldn"t trade last night for anything in the world.

Exiting his room quietly, I make my way downstairs. The aroma of coffee and bacon wafts through the air, drawing me like a moth to a flame. When I enter the kitchen, I find a plate piled high with sizzling bacon and perfectly cooked eggs. But Ripley is nowhere to be seen. They redid the kitchen since I've been here; it looks amazing. The rich dark wood cabinets add depth, while the glossy black countertops bring a modern touch to the space.

I head straight for the coffee maker, grab a mug from the rack on the counter, grateful for the convenience. Rifling through cabinets in search of one would be a breach of privacy I wish to avoid.

Mug filled, I put some sweetener in and head to the fridge. Opening the door, I reach for the almond creamer, my mind already drifting to the first sip of the sweet goodness. But just as I finish pouring, someone clears their throat.

Startled, I slam the fridge shut and whirl around, the creamy liquid sloshing out of my mug and onto the floor. "Fuck! I'll clean that up," I mumble, locking eyes with Ripley, my cheeks heating.

I grab a rag from the nearby sink and kneel to mop up the mess. Ripley's eyes never leave me as I clean it up and toss the rag back to the sink.

"You startled me." I smile.

Ripley"s expression darkens, his eyes cold and distant, as if I"m beneath him. There"s a subtle curl of disdain on his lips, a silent judgment that cuts deeper than any words.

"One night and you fuck my son?" he sneers.

What the hell?

He went to the damn auction, knowing that's exactly the point of this fucking weekend. Now he comes downstairs and is acting like I'm some cheap whore?

Not to mention he acted fine with everything last night, excusing himself so Atlas and I could talk. What changed? Why has he suddenly done a one-eighty?

Well, I don't care who he is or what his problem is. I've done nothing wrong, nothing he or Atlas, hell, both didn't plan to do with someone else.

"Kinda the point, isn't it?" I snap. He's not going to treat me like shit and not get a fucking attitude back.

Glaring at him, I take a sip of my coffee and set my mug on the counter.

"You're just like her. A whore."

Before I can stop myself, I take a step toward him and slap him hard across the cheek. His head turns slightly to the left with the impact.

I want to scream. My whole adult life so far has been spent running away from that comparison. My mother is a toxic symbol of everything I never want to become—a constant reminder of pain and betrayal. To even suggest that I'm like her in any way is an insult to everything I"ve fought so hard to leave behind me.

"I'm nothing like her."

My jaw clenches, teeth grinding together hard enough I might crack a molar.

How dare he?

Ripley"s expression shifts from shock to an unreadable mask. Before I can register what"s happening, his right hand lashes out with lightning speed, his fingers wrapping around my throat like a cobra, cutting off my air supply.

Panic surges through me as my backside hits the counter. Ripley"s eyes bore into mine with an intensity that causes goosebumps to ripple across my skin.

And then, his lips crash against mine with a bruising force, rough and demanding, devoid of any tenderness or affection.

I kiss him back, our tongues fighting for dominance as I wrap my arms around his neck and bite his bottom lip hard. He hisses and releases me, only to spin me around and force me face down on the countertop.

His hands push Atlas" shirt up roughly, exposing my bare ass and core. He slaps my ass and dips his fingers into my pussy.

"Filthy little slut," he growls.

I shouldn"t be turned on. I shouldn"t be feeling this way—his words, his touch, they shouldn"t be stirring something inside me. It"s all so messed up.

I bite down on my lip, trying to suppress the moan that wants to escape.

This isn"t right.

Just last night, I was wrapped in Atlas" arms, lost in the sweet intimacy we shared. And now, here I am, standing before his father, my body betraying me.

When he grabs my hips, he lifts me and pushes forward, my thighs meeting the countertop. My toes don't touch the floor now, but I don"t even care. I"m more worried about why the hell I"m not fighting back when I feel the tip of his cock pressing against my opening.

"So fucking tight. So wet. You like when stepdaddy fills your cunt?"

"Oh, God!" I cry, my body tensing up.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why is him calling himself stepdaddy as he fucks me so hot? It should turn me off. He was, in fact, my stepdad and while he's not now, it still should feel wrong. Right?

He doesn"t let up, thrusting ruthlessly into me with forceful short, quick movements. I'm going to have countertop bruises from this. I just know it.

"Come, Sloane. Come on stepdaddy's cock."

"Yeeeees! Shiiiiit! Ahhhh!" I scream as my orgasm washes over me like a tidal wave. Quickly, I bury my face in my arm, muffling my cries. With my eyes squeezed shut, my toes curl as my pussy spasms around him.

"Goddamn," he grunts and then stills, his hot cum filling me.

When he's finished, he pulls out, setting me back on the floor.

I can"t bring myself to meet Ripley"s gaze, my eyes fixed on my feet as tears well up, blurring my vision.

This is so fucked.

The first few drops trace a path down my cheeks. I betrayed Atlas, he just told me he still had feelings for me. And now, here I am, freshly fucked by his dad.

A wave of nausea hits as I realize I just fucked the same man my mother did. It disappears just as fast and switches to a wicked smile. While the thought should freak me out, it doesn"t. Instead, it feels like a small act of defiance, like I stole something from her finally.

I turn away from Ripley and bolt out of the kitchen, up the stairs to Atlas" room. I need to get my clothes and get out of here.

Inside, I push the door closed and lean against it while my tears continue to flow.

Was the money and Grandma's house worth this feeling?