Chapter 7

The mansion had plenty of bedrooms, yet somehow we always gravitated toward Harrison's massive king-sized bed by midnight, with me nestled securely between the two towering figures.

Naturally, there were moments when I craved private time with just one of them.

Miraculously, jealousy never surfaced between them.

And I owed Harrison a performance.

My vibrator was a sleek violet silicone creation - several inches shorter than Harrison's impressive length, but perfectly serviceable. I sprawled across my silk sheets wearing nothing but a wicked grin as Harrison observed from the leather armchair, his gaze burning.

"I used to leave my door ajar during these sessions," I confessed, my breath hitching as the buzzing tip found its mark. "Part of me hoped you'd hear the vibrations and... intervene."

Harrison had already freed his erection, stroking in rhythm with my movements. "I fantasized about barging in and taking you raw," I continued, arching my back. "Claiming me without protection, filling me until I overflowed."

"Christ, I had that same fantasy," Harrison growled, his fist moving faster. "Except I pictured taking you against the breakfast nook window - where the entire neighborhood could watch me ruin you."

"Harrison!" My moan turned into a gasp as I cranked the vibration intensity higher.

"Are you going to come for me, princess?"

"God, yes!" The climax ripped through me violently, leaving my thighs trembling. Grayson chose that moment to slither into bed beside me, still working his considerable length.

"Should I—"

"No." Harrison's roar cut him off as hot stripes painted my abdomen. When his breathing steadied, he murmured, "I've imagined this scene for years, Evelyn. The guilt nearly destroyed me." His calloused thumb brushed my cheek. "Seeing it real... fuck."

"Always yours," I whispered.

He kissed me deeply, uncaring of the mess cooling between us. "Just swear one thing, little one."

"Name it."

"That title never changes."

So here we were - me, my stepfather, and his devastatingly handsome best friend in this deliciously twisted arrangement. These men worshipped my body with relentless enthusiasm, treating me like their personal treasure.

Thank heavens for my insatiable appetite - most women would collapse trying to keep pace with Harrison and Grayson!

If surrendering to my stepfather's bed (and somehow turning a reckless night into something real) makes me wicked? So be it. Wicked girls enjoy themselves thoroughly - and we're excellent at sharing.

Sometimes virtue is overrated.

Outwardly, I was the golden child. Straight-A student. Punctual. Universally adored. The perfect daughter.

On paper.

Reality? I'd mastered duality by sixteen. While classmates crammed in libraries, I was grinding against frat brothers at keggers, discovering how many ways a girl could sin before midnight.

College simply meant fewer lies to maintain.

Mom remained blissfully oblivious - too consumed by work to notice anything amiss. But Harrison? That man noticed everything. First to praise my achievements, first to scold tardiness.

The "Harrison" nickname began ironically - he parented better than my actual progenitors. Though by the time he entered our lives, parental guidance wasn't what I craved.

Not when he looked like that.

Sun-kissed hair. Smoldering espresso eyes. A body carved by gods that made collegiate boys look like scrawny adolescents. Our backyard pool became my personal torment - watching water cascade over those abs should've been illegal.

Of course the most forbidden fruit would be the most tempting.

But I've never backed down from desire.

That summer after freshman year - freshly nineteen - I sprawled poolside in scandalous lemon bikini bottoms, the scorching sun making even that scant fabric unbearable.