The next three days were torture.

Riya avoided Raj as much as possible—leaving early for college, staying late at the library, texting Amit to pick her up so she wouldn’t have to ride home with her father. But avoidance only made the hunger worse. Every time she closed her eyes she saw that thick, veined cock hanging heavy under the shower spray. Every time she touched herself (and she touched herself constantly now—three, four times a day) she came whispering “Daddy” into her pillow like a prayer.