Moonlight bled through the curtains as Stiles stirred, her bare thighs sticking to the silk sheets. She'd fallen asleep waiting—again—her tiny dress riding up to expose the fading bruises Grandpa Derek had painted over Jackson's rage. The bedroom door creaked open at 2:15 AM, the scent of cedar and Old Spice curling under her nose before calloused fingers slid up her inner thigh.

Grandpa Derek's hot breath fogged against her pussy lips as he knelt between her legs, the mattress dipping under his weight. Jackson snored facedown beside them, his arm flung across Stiles's waist like a careless claim. "Shhh," Grandpa Derek warned, his tongue already lapping at her dream-slick folds. Stiles's gasp lodged in her throat when he sealed his mouth over her clit, sucking gently in the exact rhythm that made her toes curl.