Ishouldn’t have been there.

Not in that house.

Not with him.

But I was.

The leather strap of my purse cut into my shoulder as I stood frozen in the grand marble entryway of the Ashford estate—my heels tapping nervously on the pristine white tile that probably cost more than my entire year’s salary.

I hadn’t seen him in months.

Not since the breakup with Drew.

And God, it had been ugly. Drew had caught me cheating, and in a fit of rage, he’d posted all my texts with that bartender I’d been fooling around with. Humiliating. Public. Messy. A perfect social media scandal. The kind that spreads like wildfire in rich circles. In my defense, I'd only done it because I'd come home and found him in bed with someone I thought was my best friend.

Now I was here.

Invited—well, summoned—by the man who saw it all unfold.

Drew’s father. Grant Ashford.

The door to his study creaked open, and there he was.

A tailored black shirt stretched tight across his broad chest, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing thick, veined muscles. Salt-and-pepper hair framed a jawline sharper than a damn blade. The man was sex and power wrapped up in one terrifying, magnetic package. And when his eyes—icy gray and filled with something dark—landed on me, I forgot how to breathe.

“You’re late, Quinn,” he said. His voice was low and sharp like gravel wrapped in velvet.

“I—traffic,” I muttered, sounding like a scolded child.

He didn’t move from the doorway. Just leaned his big frame against the edge and crossed his arms, letting silence stretch between us like a wire ready to snap.

Finally, he cocked his head. “Come in. We have things to discuss.”

I swallowed hard and followed him into the study. The door shut behind me with a soft click, and I realized we were alone. Completely, utterly alone.

God help me.

I clutched the strap of my purse like a lifeline. “Look, if this is about Drew—”

“It’s not.”

He turned to face me, eyes raking over my body in a way that made my skin tingle. I’d worn a modest black skirt and blouse. Professional. Respectable.

Pointless.

His gaze burned right through it.

“I don’t give a damn about Drew,” he said. “My son is an idiot. I care about the way you disgraced the Ashford name.”

I stiffened. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” he interrupted. “You embarrassed this family. My company. Me.”

There it was.

The real reason I was here.

“What do you want, Grant?” I asked, lifting my chin. “You didn’t call me here just to lecture me.”

His lips twitched at the corners. Not quite a smile. More like a warning.

“No. I didn’t.”

He walked to his desk and pulled open a drawer, tossing a glossy folder on the surface. It slid toward me with a soft thud.

I stepped forward and flipped it open. My stomach dropped.

Photos. Screenshots. Messages.

Stuff even I didn’t know still existed.

And then… the last page.

A series of transactions.

Money.

“Wh—what is this?” I asked, my voice shaky.

“You were extorting Drew. Manipulating him for cash while you fucked someone else,” he said casually. “That’s fraud, Quinn. Wire fraud. I could bury you in court.”

“No—I didn’t—” I reached for the folder, but he was already on me.

Fast. Silent.

His body pinned mine against the edge of the desk, one hand gripping my wrist, the other sliding the folder away.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

My heart pounded. He was so close I could smell his cologne—rich, masculine, sinful.

I tried to pull away, but he only leaned in closer.

“You’re in a very delicate position,” he said, eyes locked to mine. “Lucky for you, I’m offering an alternative to prison.”

I hated how my body reacted to his voice. To the heat of him pressing against me. My thighs clenched, and shame bloomed low in my stomach.

“What kind of… alternative?” I asked, hating the tremble in my voice.

He smirked then. And I swear, it was the sexiest, most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.

“You work for me now,” he said. “No salary. No title. No days off.”

My mouth went dry.

“Doing what?” I whispered.

His eyes dropped to my lips.

“Whatever I want.”

The air snapped with tension. My breath hitched as he reached up, brushing his thumb across my mouth.

“You’re mine now, Quinn. You ruined my family’s reputation. You broke my son. And now…” His voice dropped lower. “Now you’ll pay me back. With your body. Your obedience. Your silence.”

I should have run. Should have screamed, fought, something.

But instead?

I felt myself getting wet.

And he saw it. The way his lips curled told me he knew.

“I’ll give you one chance to walk out,” he murmured. “But if you stay…”

He pressed his lips to my ear.

“I’ll make you my filthy little secret.”

My knees nearly buckled.

I didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

So he stepped back, slowly, and went to sit behind his desk like nothing had happened.

“Take off your blouse,” he said without looking up. “Let’s start with something simple.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I reached for the buttons.

And so it began.

My descent into the twisted world of Grant Ashford.

Where every touch, every command, every degradation was a silent apology for what I’d done.

Where every moment I stayed was another nail in my coffin of pride.

But I had a secret of my own.

I liked it.

The power. The fear. The way he made me feel alive.

I’d become his dirty little pawn in a game of redemption.

And as I slipped my blouse from my shoulders, I knew I’d do whatever he asked.

Because I owed him.

And because, deep down, I craved it.

He barely glanced at me as I unhooked my bra, letting my breasts spill out.

The cool air of the study brushed against my nipples, making them peak.

“Good,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Now the skirt. Slowly.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

My trembling fingers unzipped the side, letting the fabric pool around my ankles.

I stepped out of it, my heart hammering in my chest.

I was now standing before him in nothing but my lacy black lingerie.

He took his sweet time looking his fill, his gaze lingering on the dampness between my thighs.

“Now the panties,” he ordered.

I swallowed hard and hooked my thumbs under the waistband, sliding them down.

They dropped to the floor with a whisper, and I stepped out of them, feeling utterly exposed.

“Kneel,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

I sank to my knees, the cold marble sending a shiver through me.

This was it. The moment I became his.

But instead of fear, I felt something else.

Excitement.

The kind that made me feel like I was on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into the unknown.

He took his time walking around me, his gaze raking over my bare skin like a brand.

I felt every inch of him—his power, his control, his hunger.

And as his hand reached out to cup my chin, forcing me to look up at him, I knew I’d never felt so alive.

“You’re going to do everything I say, Quinn. Without question. Without hesitation. Do you understand?”

I nodded, my voice lost in the thickness of the air.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.

The sound of his zipper echoed in the silent room.

I watched as he pulled out his thick, hard cock, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

The scent of him filled my nostrils—musky, male, and utterly intoxicating.

“Open your mouth,” he said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through me.

I parted my lips, and he guided his cock inside, his grip on my chin tightening as he pushed deeper.

He tasted of power and sin—everything I’d ever wanted but never knew how to get.

As I began to suck, my mind raced.

This wasn’t supposed to turn me on.

This was blackmail.

This was wrong.

But as he grew harder, as his breathing grew ragged, I couldn’t deny the heat pooling in my core.

I liked serving him. Liked making him feel good.

It was a heady feeling—being under his control.

He groaned, his hand sliding to the back of my head, pushing me further down.

I gagged, my eyes watering, but I didn’t stop.

I liked it when he lost control.

I liked the power I thought I had in this moment.

The power to give him pleasure.

To take it away. Or so I thought…….

His hips began to move, fucking my mouth in a slow, steady rhythm.

I felt his hand in my hair tighten, the grip almost painful.

But I didn’t care.

I liked the way his body reacted to me.

I liked knowing that I could do this to him.

“Take it all, slut,” he growled, his voice gruff with lust.

The word should have repulsed me, but instead, it sent a jolt straight to my pussy.

I took him deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat, my eyes watering.

He was getting rougher now, his movements more erratic.

I could feel his orgasm building—his whole body was tense, like a coiled spring about to snap.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his hand in my hair, pulling harder.

I nodded, the pressure increasing.

My mouth was his, and I was his.

A whine escaped me as he picked up the pace, my jaw aching from his relentless fucking.

It was a reminder of what I’d become.

His property.

His whore.

“Look at me when I come, Quinn. I want to see your eyes,” he ordered.

I complied, looking up through tear-blurred vision as he stared down at me, his face a mask of concentration and desire.

His hand tightened, and I knew he was close.

The thought of his hot cum filling my mouth made me wetter, and I felt the muscles in my stomach clench in anticipation.

“Swallow it all,” he breathed.

But just as I felt him about to release, the door to the study burst open, and in stumbled Drew, his eyes wide with shock.

“What the fuck, Dad?” he choked out.

Grant’s hand didn’t leave my head. Instead, he squeezed tighter.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I tried to say, but all that came out was a muffled moan around his cock.

“Oh, it is exactly what it looks like,” he said, his voice cold and unforgiving.

Drew stared, horrified, at the scene before him.

Grant’s eyes never left mine. “You see, Drew, your little whore here has been a very bad girl. And she’s going to learn her lesson.”

I felt the first hot spurt of cum hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed it down, my eyes never leaving Drew’s.

His face was a mask of disgust and anger, but there was something else there too.

Something darker.

Something that made my stomach turn.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just watched as his father used me.

As his father’s hand pumped faster and faster, Drew’s eyes dropped to my exposed cunt, and my stomach turned again. I was locked in a room with two rich, powerful men, and neither were happy with me.

“You see, Drew?” Grant said, his voice thick with disdain. “This is what happens when you don’t take charge of what’s yours. She needs a real man to handle her. Someone who knows how to make a woman like her behave. Maybe if you’d fucked her like she deserved, she wouldn’t have strayed.”

My cheeks burned with shame, but I couldn’t deny the truth of his words. Drew had always been too gentle. Too soft. I’d craved the kind of raw, dominating sex that Grant was giving me now.

With a final, brutal thrust, Grant’s cock erupted in my mouth, filling it with hot, salty cum. I choked and coughed, trying to swallow it all as his grip on my throat tightened.

“Look at me, Quinn,” he growled. “Look at me while you swallow my son’s inheritance down your greedy little throat!”

I obeyed, my eyes wide with fear and arousal as Drew watched his father come all over me. It was the most degrading moment of my life.

But as I looked up at Drew, I saw something in his gaze that made my stomach drop—not just anger, but a dark hunger. A hunger that matched his father’s.

“Good girl,” Grant murmured, his hand finally releasing my throat.

I gasped for air, my chest heaving, my eyes never leaving Drew’s.

With a smirk, Grant tucked himself back into his pants. “You’re going to do the same for my son now,” he said, his voice like ice.

My eyes bulged as he used one hand to grab my hair, pulling me to my feet, and shove me toward Drew, still holding me by the throat.

“Show my son what a good little slut you can be,” he sneered.

Drew’s smile grew wider, his eyes dark. He pulled his own cock out, and I couldn’t help but gasp. 

I struggled to get away, my heart racing, but his father's hand was like a vice around my throat.

“You’ll do as you’re told, Quinn or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

His grip tightened, cutting off my air supply. I knew he wasn’t bluffing.

Drew stepped closer, “Beg for it, slut,” he said, his voice cold and mocking.

I glared at him, but the lack of oxygen made me light-headed. I had no choice.

“Please, Drew,” I choked out.

Grant chuckled, releasing me. I stumbled, gasping for air, my hand flying to my throat.

“That’s the spirit,” he said. “Beg like the whore you are. Now get over the desk. Drew’s going to show you what happens to bad girls who don’t know their place.”

With shaky legs, I did as I was told.

I lay across the desk, my ass in the air, feeling the cold wood against my skin.

He approached me, and I felt his hand trace the curve of my spine, sending a shiver down my body.

I didn’t want this. But I knew I had no choice.

My body was theirs now.

A toy to be used and discarded.

I glanced over my shoulder, Drew’s eyes were like two black holes, sucking in any remaining dignity I had.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against my neck.

“You like this, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice thick with malice.

I bit my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

But he knew. He could see it in my eyes.

The way they dilated when his father’s cock was in my mouth.

He slid into me without preamble—no kisses, no sweet nothings—just cold, hard flesh.

The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, and I couldn’t help but whimper.

My body was their playground, and they took full advantage.

Drew’s thrusts grew more aggressive, punctuated by his father’s sadistic laughter.

I closed my eyes, trying to escape the reality of the situation.

But their grunts and groans, the smell of sweat and lust, it all surrounded me, suffocating me in a cocoon of humiliation.

My mind raced, trying to find a way out of this twisted game, but all I could think about was the delicious feeling of their cocks filling me up.

Drew’s thrusts grew harder, his grip on my hips bruising.

“You’re such a fucking whore,” he spat, each word punctuating a thrust.

The words should have hurt, but they only served to make me wetter.

I’d never been talked to like this before—used like this before—and it was intoxicating.

I felt his hand move from my hip to my throat, squeezing gently.

“Look at Dad,” he ordered. “Look at how much of a slut you are for him. For me. For us both.”

I turned my head, and there was Grant, watching with a smug expression on his face, stroking himself leisurely.

I couldn’t believe what was happening.

I was being fucked on his desk by his son, and he was watching.

But I didn’t protest.

It wouldn't help if I did.

“Switch with me, son,” Grant said suddenly, his voice like thunder in the small room.

Drew’s rhythm faltered for a moment before he nodded.

He pulled out, but it was quickly replaced with a new kind of fear as Grant stepped up behind me, his cock still hard.

He slammed into me without a moment’s pause, and I bit down on my bottom lip until I tasted copper to muffle my cry.

It was like nothing I’d ever felt before—the pain mixed with the pleasure.

The humiliation was a drug, and I was hooked.

Drew stepped around the desk, his cock still out, still hard.

He leaned down and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

“You want this, don’t you?” he said, his voice a mix of anger and need. "Open up, slut."

And with that, he shoved his cock back in my mouth.

The feeling of being filled by both men was overwhelming—my body was theirs, and they were going to use it however they saw fit.

I could feel Drew’s anger with every thrust, and the way he squeezed my neck as I sucked him off was a stark reminder of the power they held over me.

Drew’s hand was rough around my throat, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth.

I gagged and choked around him, my eyes watering, but I knew better than to fight it.

This was my punishment, and I had to take it.

“Look at her, Dad. So eager to please. Like the desperate little whore she is,” Drew jeered, his grip tightening.

I tried to keep from blacking out, but the pressure on my throat made it hard to focus.

Grant’s smile grew wider as he watched his son use me, as his cock thrusted in and out of my pussy from behind.

“You’re going to come for us, aren’t you, Quinn?” he asked, his voice a dark promise.

I whimpered, unable to form words with Drew’s thick cock filling my mouth.

I didn’t know if it was possible to cum like this—under their control, my dignity in tatters—but my body was betraying me, begging for release.

Drew’s hand on my throat tightened as he stared down at me, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"We won't stop until you do."

That’s when I felt it.

Grant’s hand leaving my hip, moving to my clit, and then—a stinging slap.

I gasped, the pain mingling with pleasure.

It was shocking, degrading, but oh so good.

My body bucked up against him, my pussy clenching around his cock.

He slapped me again, and this time I moaned around Drew’s cock.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, along with their grunts and my muffled whimpers.

Then Drew’s hand was there too, pinching and twisting my nipples.

It was too much—the pleasure and pain swirling together into something I didn’t recognize.

My eyes rolled back, and I knew I was going to come.

They had complete control over me—body and mind—and I hated it.

But I also loved it.

Their cruel touches, their vile words, it all just made me wetter, made me want to please them more.

Grant slapped my clit again, and I couldn’t hold it back.

My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, making me scream around Drew’s cock.

They both laughed, the sound sending chills down my spine.

They were enjoying this—my pain, my pleasure.

And as the last tremors of my climax subsided, I felt a mix of anger and arousal that I didn’t know how to process.

Drew’s thrusts grew more erratic, and I knew he was close.

He pulled out of my mouth, and before I could react, he was coming on my face, his hot cum spurting across my cheeks and nose.

“Lick it clean, slut,” he said, pushing his cock back into my mouth.

I did as I was told, the bitter taste of his anger and betrayal coating my tongue.

But it was Grant’s turn next.

He pulled out of me and stepped back, his cock bobbing with every heavy breath.

“You’re going to wear this as a reminder of your place in this house, Quinn,” he growled.

And with that, he came, spraying his cum all over my back, the warm droplets landing on my skin.

I could feel his satisfaction—his power—as he marked me as his own.

Drew tossed a towel at me, and I caught it clumsily.

They both zipped up, tucking themselves away like this was nothing more than a casual business meeting.

My knees were shaking, my body still pulsing with the aftermath of their use.

The towel was rough against my skin, but it was the only thing covering my bruised dignity.

“Don’t ever forget this, Quinn,” Grant said, his voice still that deadly calm. “You’re ours now. And we’ll remind you as often as we see fit.”

Drew nodded, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he wiped his own cum off my chin.

The reality of the situation washed over me like a bucket of ice water.

This wasn’t a one time thing. This was my life now.

Their toy, their whore, their plaything to be used and discarded as they saw fit.

The room spun around me as I struggled to stand, my legs still shaking.

This wasn’t the ending I’d ever envisioned. But, this was my reality.

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Inever thought one stupid, drunken mistake would cost me everything.

But here I was, staring at the smirking face of my brother, Dean, while he waved my phone in the air.

"You’re not very good at hiding your secrets, baby sis," he said, amused.

My throat went dry.

He found it.

The video I stupidly saved—the one where I was sprawled naked on my bed, moaning his name, my fingers buried between my thighs.

"I can explain," I said, voice shaking.

He laughed.

 "You can’t explain this away," he said, hitting play.

My own breathy moans filled the room, the filthy sounds of me crying out his name.

I lunged for the phone, but he dodged easily.

"You really are a dirty little thing, aren’t you?" he murmured, stepping closer.

My face burned.

"Delete it," I begged.

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it.

"I will," he said, "if you do something for me."

I shivered.

"What?"

His grin was wicked.

"Strip for me. Right here. Right now."

My heart pounded. Every instinct screamed at me to run.

 But if he sent that video to anyone—our parents, his friends—I’d be ruined.

Hands trembling, I pulled my tank top over my head, baring my chest to him.

 Then I shimmied out of my shorts, standing there in nothing but sheer panties, nipples hard from shame and arousal.

Dean’s eyes darkened.

"Goddamn," he muttered. "Better than I ever imagined."

He closed the distance between us, hooking a finger under the waistband of my panties and snapping them against my skin.

"You belong to me now, baby girl," he said.

I whimpered as he backed me against the wall, his mouth claiming mine in a bruising kiss.

And when he pushed my panties down and lifted me effortlessly against him, I knew I was lost.

Lost to the one person I should never have wanted in the first place.

I could feel him, hard and demanding, pressing against my stomach as he kissed me. His hands roamed my body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. I knew I should have been disgusted, but instead, I was... turned on. The forbidden nature of it all only made it more intense. He broke the kiss and stepped back, his eyes raking over me hungrily. What the hell was wrong with me?

"Dean," I whispered, my voice shaking. "It's not what you think."

He raised an eyebrow, his grip on my wrist tightening. "Really?" he said, his voice filled with doubt. "You looked pretty into it on that video."

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "It was just a... a moment of weakness. A drunken fantasy," I lied, my voice quivering. "I didn't mean for it to go that far."

Dean's expression didn't change. "A fantasy, huh?" His eyes never left my body as he spoke, his thumb tracing circles on my bare skin. "And what if I told you I had a fantasy of fucking my little sister?"

My stomach twisted in knots at the harsh words. I struggled against his grip, trying to pull away, but his strength was overwhelming. "Dean, please," I begged, my voice strained. "Let me go."

But he didn't. Instead, he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "You're going to give me what I want, or I'll make sure everyone sees this." The phone screen still played my humiliation, a taunting reminder of the power he held over me.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I knew I had to play along. "Okay," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?" he echoed, his tone dark with excitement.

"Yes," I said, swallowing hard. "Just don't tell anyone. Please."

Without a word, Dean dropped my phone onto the bed, the video still playing, and pushed me down onto my knees. The cold, hard floor sent a shock through me, and I looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"You know what's next," he said, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

I couldn't believe this was happening. I looked up at him, my eyes filling with tears as he pulled out his cock, already hard and thick. The reality of what he wanted from me washed over me like a cold shower.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

My heart racing, I obeyed. He stepped closer, his cock mere inches from my face. I could see every detail, feel the heat of his desire. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, tilting my head back, and then thrust forward.

The first taste was salty and bitter, but I had no time to react as he shoved it deep into my mouth. I gagged, my eyes watering, but he only held me there tighter, forcing me to take all of him. I choked and sputtered around his length, feeling his girth stretch my lips until they felt bruised.

He started to thrust, the head of his cock hitting the back of my throat, making me gag even more. I struggled to breathe, my nose buried in the dark hair of his groin. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling and pushing as he used my mouth for his pleasure. He was so deep, so invasive, and I could feel every vein and ridge of his shaft as he slid in and out. It was like nothing I had ever experienced, and my mind reeled from the depravity of what I was doing to my own brother.

"Look at me," he growled, and I had no choice but to obey, my eyes watering and my cheeks hollowed out around his cock. His gaze was intense, his pupils dilated with lust. "You love it, don't you?" he whispered, and I had to fight the urge to nod, to admit the sickening truth.

Dean's hips rolled in a rhythm that grew more punishing with every thrust. I could feel the head of his cock bumping against the back of my throat, my gag reflex fighting against the intrusion. He held my head in place, his grip unforgiving, as he used my mouth like a fuck toy. The sounds of my choking and gagging filled the room, mingling with his grunts of satisfaction.

He pulled back slightly, and I took a gasp of air, only for him to ram back in, pushing my limits further. His hand was wrapped in my hair, guiding the pace of his movements, and I could feel his cock pulsing in anticipation. He was going to cum in my mouth, and I had no say in the matter. The thought was both terrifying and oddly thrilling.

He reached down and grabbed my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. "You're going to swallow every drop," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Do you understand?"

I nodded, tears streaming down my face, and he took that as his cue to pick up the pace. My throat tightened around his shaft as he fucked my mouth harder and faster. I could feel his thighs tense, his breathing become erratic. And then, with a roar of triumph, he came, filling my mouth with his hot, salty seed. I choked, trying to keep it all in, my eyes watering uncontrollably.

He held me in place, pumping his hips until he had emptied himself completely. Then he pulled out, and I collapsed onto the floor, panting and trembling. I could taste him, feel him, everywhere. It was disgusting and exhilarating all at once.

"Good girl," he said, his voice filled with a twisted sense of pride. "Now get on the bed."

My legs were shaking as I obeyed, my body trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. He followed me, his cock still half-erect and glistening with the proof of what I had just done. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself at my feet. His hand slid up my leg, pushing it apart, and I knew what was coming next.

"Spread 'em," he ordered, his voice gruff.