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“Faster, faster, faster. I said faster!”

Demanding, huh? I’m into it.

I pick up the pace, my other hand tight on the cold railing.

“Yes, pet. Just like that.”

What the fuck?

I shake my head, trying to ignore that part.

“Dommy’s proud of her good boy. Yes, she is.”

That’s definitely not for me. I’m not a good boy.

Now Kota? Kota is a good girl. A very good girl. Looks like a good girl, lives like a good girl.

She talks like a naughty little slut though and that shit is a welcome fucking surprise.

Even if I don’t like everything that’s being said.

Guy makes some noises that I also ignore.

This is my time with her and I’m almost there.

I quickly spit on my palm before resuming my strokes.

Just like in the kitchen, I’m surrounded by Kota’s sweet-cherries-dipped-in-vanilla scent as I drive into her pussy again and again. I want to kiss her so bad, taste those pleas coming out of her mouth.

She wants my cock, loves it, needs it. And I’m the only one who can give it to her.

One final thrust forward and I empty my balls into my pants again. Another pair I need to wash. At this rate, I’m not gonna have anything left to wear tomorrow.

I’m sure my new family would love that.

Judging by the grunting next door, Guy has a lot more stamina than I do.

I’ve lasted longer plenty of times. Just not when it comes to Kota for some reason.

Whatever. I need to get myself cleaned up before they get done.

Grabbing a change of clothes and my sandwich bag of toiletries, I make sure no one’s in the hall before ducking into the bathroom for a shower.

I’m just coming out when I almost run into a red-faced Kota. In a sports bra and shorts the size of this morning’s, she’s chugging water out of a glass bottle like she’s dehydrated. Judging by the amount of droplets coating her skin, she just might be. Girl is drenched.

Fuck, I do not need to see this.

But I can’t look away either.

When her light blue eyes venture up to mine, I scowl like she’s inconveniencing the fuck out of me. She kind of is though. I don’t want to see her sex-slicked body in all its beautiful fucking glory.

I mean, I do, but under different circumstances. Circumstances I had a part in.

“Sorry,” Stepsis mumbles as she slides past, careful not to touch me.

It’s hard to imagine this is the same girl who was just barking orders at her pet and calling herself Dommy, in third person no less.

Sadly, she’s already back to being spineless and apologizing every other word. Kota Rhodes says sorry like I say fuck—liberally and for no apparent reason.