Not in his life had Phei ever thought he would see both of them like this.
Melissa and Delilah.
Kissing.
Melissa kissing any of her daughters while he fucked her? Never. Not even in his boldest fantasies, and his fantasies had never once been accused of modesty. Yet the memory of it happening was right there, still warm, still impossible — mother and daughter, mouths together, moans shared, while the morning broke every ordinary boundary between them and remade the air with something far too intimate to name aloud yet.
And now, even as he left the bathroom and dressed in the walking, they were laughing together.
Touching each other without awkwardness pretending to be dignity.
Helping each other into clothes after a morning that had very thoroughly murdered the old definition of their relationship and left something warmer, stranger, and far more dangerous standing over the corpse.
