Family Breakfast

Garrett woke before the sun.

For a moment, he lay still—naked under the sheets, staring at the ceiling of the house he had claimed but never intended to keep. This life had started as a disguise. A cover. Simone had been essential. Not just any woman would do—it had to be her. The daughter of the woman who once destroyed his family’s legacy. The same lineage, the same smile twisted by ideology. He had needed Simone to open the gates to Havenridge, to win the trust of the institution—and more importantly, to get close enough to the one who had ruined everything.

Rage and strategy had driven him to her. She was a means to an end. Righteous vengeance and reclamation. What had been taken from him would be returned—through her. Through control. Through legacy.

But somewhere along the line, the act had blurred. Her devotion had become... comforting. Useful. Maybe even desirable. Not just her body, though that certainly helped. It was her willingness to serve. The way she moved, the way she obeyed. Quiet, competent, loyal. Like the women in those old books his grandfather used to quote. Women who knew their place. Especially the black ones.

He rose, crossed the room, and paused in front of the hallway mirror. The body staring back was lean, pale, marked by years of discipline. Today was the beginning of everything.

“After today,” he whispered, “no more waiting.”

He stepped into the shower, washing away sleep and strategy alike. The water was hot. Focused. Like him.

Downstairs, the scent of spiced yams and grilled sausage was already in the air. Jazz played, low and unobtrusive. Simone was exactly where she should be—barefoot, in a tight silk robe, her scarf perfectly wrapped. She was plating his food when he entered, and the moment she saw him, she turned and bowed her head slightly.

“Your breakfast is ready, Master,” she said.

He sat. “You’re early.”

“I barely slept. I just… I needed everything to be perfect.”

“Mm.”

She brought the plate with both hands, placing it carefully in front of him before returning to the kitchen counter to pour his coffee.

He took the first bite. “You’ve improved.”

She blushed softly. “Thank you, Master.”

As he ate, she moved around the kitchen—wiping a spot from the counter, straightening the spice jars. Always active, always attentive. Not hovering, but present in that quiet, practiced rhythm of someone who served without being told. Everything about her posture, her pace, said devotion.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said gently, “Octavia might try something today. Something to test you. She doesn’t trust easily.”

Garrett chewed slowly. “Then she’ll learn.”

“She might try to embarrass you. Or isolate you.”

“She won’t succeed.”

Simone’s voice softened to a whisper. “If you make it through today untouched... I want to be your reward.”

He turned to her. “You already are.” He reached down, cupped her cheek. “But yes. If all goes well—you’ll be used. Properly.”

She shivered.

Before that could build further, a thump broke the silence upstairs. Then the sound of bare feet and a door swinging open.

Nia stomped down the stairs with dramatic flair, oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, legs bare, a mischievous grin already painted across her face.

“Morning, Daddy.”

“You’re late,” Garrett said flatly, without looking up.

She walked slowly, deliberately, hips swaying more than necessary. “You’re sexy.”

Simone turned with a sigh, arms crossed.

Garrett raised a brow. “Still can’t follow simple rules?”

Nia tugged the hoodie up slightly, flashing a glimpse of her bare skin beneath. “You didn’t say anything about underwear, Daddy.”

He didn’t blink. “And that’s the first thing on your mind?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe I was dreaming about you. Or maybe I just like teasing you before coffee.”

Simone rolled her eyes. “You’re going to get yourself gagged if you keep this up.”

Nia turned to her, pouting. “Jealous, Mommy?”

“I’m the one who made his breakfast,” Simone replied coolly. “You’re the one who still thinks being bratty equals attention.”

“Oh please,” Nia laughed. “He lives for it.” She hopped up to sit on the counter, legs dangling. “Besides, I’m the only one in this house brave enough to remind Daddy that his favorite toy doesn’t need permission to misbehave.”

Garrett finally looked up, calm and cold. “One more sentence like that, and you won’t be sitting on anything for the rest of the week.”

Nia smiled and slid off the counter, crawling slowly toward the table. “Then I better use my mouth instead, huh?”

“Too much talking for someone who hasn’t earned Daddy’s attention.”

She grinned and slid to her knees, crawling under the table without being told. Simone didn’t flinch.

He exhaled through his nose. Nia didn't say a word. Her eyes sparkled with that bratty glint as she reached up, unfastened his waistband, and pulled his pants open without hesitation.

She looked up briefly, biting her lip, then lowered her head and began—slow, purposeful, worshipful.

Garrett leaned back slightly, watching the crown of her head. "You're going to make a mess of yourself before breakfast."

Nia pulled back just long enough to catch her breath, then whispered with a grin, “Then I better not waste a single drop of Daddy’s precious breakfast for his little chocolate princess.”

Garrett looked down at her lazily. “Less talking, princess. Daddy’s got work to do.”

Nia giggled and dove right back in, her mouth wrapping around him again with eager heat.

Simone stood across from him, arms crossed beneath her full chest. Her silk robe hugged every curve, but her eyes—those betrayed everything: tension, hunger, heat. Her voice was calm, cuttingly soft.

“You spoil her too much, you know.”

Garrett’s mouth curved. “Needy little thing earns it.”

Simone raised a brow. “You say that like I’m not.”

He chuckled, his hand resting casually on the table. “Don’t get jealous now, Simone. It’s not a good look for my wife.”

She stepped closer, just enough to let the slit in her robe part slightly. “Of course I’m jealous,” she whispered. “She gets your cock. I get your rules.”

“You get my ring,” he reminded her. “You get my leash. Or is my cock at night suddenly not good enough for you?”

Simone smiled faintly. “True. But soon you’ll be surrounded by all those spoiled little college bitches who want to fuck the new professor just because he’s white and mean and doesn’t care what their pronouns are.”

Garrett tilted his head. “Do you think they want that?”

Simone chuckled. “Once you’ve straightened out their messy little heads? Oh, absolutely.”

He watched her for a moment. “And what about you?”

She bit her lip, eyes dark with want. “Oh God, babe… I don’t want anything more than that.”

“So you’d rather watch me take them than have my cock yourself? Be precise.”

She lowered her voice, more reverent now. “If you told me to watch, I would. Even if it took years. I’d kneel in silence, knowing you still saw me. I’d beg quietly, wait obediently. And when you chose me again—I’d remember who I am.”

He let out a low laugh. “So that’s not enough for you? Makes you feel like there’s no place left for you here?”

“No,” she said, stepping in to kiss him. Their lips met—hot, claiming, deep. As their mouths pressed together, Simone reached under the table and gently took hold of Nia’s head, guiding it lower, firmer, until her cheek nearly touched Garrett’s thigh.

Garrett inhaled sharply, pleasure rising. Simone pulled back from the kiss, her voice lower, sharper: “Let Mommy take care of the brats. You just enjoy, Master.”

Garrett’s eyes darkened. His hand tangled in Simone’s scarf, tugging her close again. “You keep her in place,” he growled. “She’ll need it.”

His hand rose and closed around one breast, pinching the nipple sharply through the silk. She hissed. He didn’t stop.

“I’ll fuck that dripping little pussy tonight,” he whispered into her mouth. “And if you’re good, I’ll hammer that perfect ass of yours until you can’t form a coherent sentence.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she whispered back.

Under the table, Nia’s breath changed—faster now, shallow and warm against him. Garrett barely looked down, but he could feel the tremor through her spine, the **** need building. Her moan was muffled, her body arching slightly—silent, obedient, and trembling. She stilled, breath shallow, resting her cheek to the floor with a quiet, broken sigh.

Garrett looked down lazily, cock still glistening.

“…Mmm,” he muttered. “Maybe I overdid it a little.”

Simone smiled, biting her lip. “Just a little.”

She knelt beside Nia and gently stroked her hair.

Garrett reached for his coffee, still hot. Then he stood, stretching slowly, the calm already returning to his face. He walked toward the door, but paused at the frame, casting a glance over his shoulder.

“Get dressed, my little chocolate bitches,” he said with a smirk. “We’ve got places to be.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Nia chimed instantly.

“Yes, my King,” Simone added, eyes lowered, voice warm with pride.