Chapter 5: The Reckoning

Sunday morning arrived like a hangover the house itself was nursing. Gray light filtered through the heavy drapes, turning the kitchen tiles the color of old bruises. The parents’ flight landed at noon; they’d be home by two, arms full of duty-free trinkets and stories no one would ask to hear. The clock was ticking.

Sophia woke first—still in her childhood bed, sheets tangled around her naked hips, the faint crust of Julian’s cum from Friday night finally flaking off her back in the shower she’d taken at dawn. Her body ached in places she hadn’t known could ache: thighs bruised from gripping too hard, cunt tender and swollen, throat raw from screams and swallowed shame. She pulled on an oversized hoodie—one of Julian’s old college ones she’d stolen years ago—and padded barefoot to the kitchen.

Julian was already there, brewing coffee in silence. Black T-shirt, jeans, hair still damp from his own shower. He didn’t look up when she entered, just poured a second mug and slid it across the island.

“Parents land in three hours,” he said. Flat. Factual.

Sophia wrapped her hands around the mug. Steam curled between them. “We can’t just ... stop.”

He met her eyes then—steel gray, unreadable. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. But we can’t let them see.”

A beat. Then he stepped around the island, close enough she could smell soap and coffee on him. First real touch since the study: his hand on her jaw, thumb tracing the faint red mark where he’d smeared cum across her cheek two nights ago.

“Tonight,” he said. “After they’re asleep. My room. No noise. No mercy.”