A month later, Mark visited again.

The kitchen smelled of garlic and olive oil as we chopped vegetables together that evening. Mark stirred marinara sauce on the stove while Jenna diced onions beside me. The domesticity felt surreal—like we were pretending to be something normal.

“So how do you two explain, to your boyfriends, why you are unavailable some weekends?” Mark asked, keeping his eyes on the sauce.

Jenna snorted. “They’re not exactly our boyfriends. It’s all very casual.”

I dumped chopped bell peppers into the salad bowl. “I told them that a family friend rents the apartment and has business here in Athens once a month. He agreed we could live here rent-free, but that he’s super religious. So the one condition is no boys over when he’s here.”

Mark glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Sneaky.”

“It works.” I shrugged. “And if I were a guy, I’d stay away too. Nobody wants to deal with a super-strict religious guy.”

“Smart.” He turned back to the stove. “Keeps things simple.”

After dinner, we settled on the couch to watch some action thriller Mark picked. Jenna curled up on his left side, me on his right. His arm draped across my shoulders. The movie played, but I barely registered the explosions and car chases. All my attention focused on the heat of his body against mine, the rhythm of his breathing, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the garlic from dinner.

When the credits rolled, Mark stood and moved to the chair facing the couch. He sat back, legs spread, arms resting on the armrests. Heat flooded through me. This was what I had been waiting for. What did he have planned for us tonight?

“Kiss her.”

My stomach flipped. Jenna and I had kissed during the Super Bowl party, but somehow that seemed different—we were all three playing then. This felt more intimate.

Jenna turned to me, dark eyes searching mine for a moment before she leaned in. Her lips were soft, hesitant at first. The faint taste of marinara lingered on her mouth. I parted my lips and her tongue slid against mine. My hand found her waist, fingers splaying against the cotton of her tank top.

“Good.” Mark’s voice was low, approving. “Sky, take off her shirt and play with her breasts.”

I broke the kiss and gripped the hem of Jenna’s top, pulling it up over her head. Her sports bra followed. I’d seen her naked before, but my hands trembled anyway as I cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over dark nipples that hardened at my touch.

“Now you, Jenna.”

She reached for my shirt, tugging it off with more confidence than I’d managed. My bra joined the growing pile on the floor, goosebumps raised across my chest.

“Keep going.”

Jenna’s fingers found the button of my jeans. The rasp of the zipper dominated the room. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and I lifted my hips, letting her slide them down my legs along with my underwear. I kicked them aside, suddenly hyperaware of Mark’s vigilant gaze on my bare body.

I returned the favor, peeling Jenna’s yoga pants down her athletic legs. No underwear beneath—just smooth dark skin and the thick but neat triangle of hair between her legs.

“Beautiful,” Mark said, like some perverted narrator. “Both of you.”

This felt different than our Super Bowl activities—slower, more focused. Like we were performing for an audience of one, and he intended to savour every second.

“Sky, taste her.”

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Breakfast was difficult.

The vinyl booth pressed against my backside in a way that made finding comfort impossible. I shifted, trying to angle my weight onto my thighs, but the welts had spread far enough that any position hurt. Beside me, Jenna fidgeted constantly—leaning left, then right, then forward onto her elbows.

Mark watched us both with barely concealed amusement.

The waitress set down our plates. Pancakes for me, scrambled eggs for Jenna, a full stack with bacon for Mark. He reached for the butter dish, turning it toward us.

“You know,” he said, voice casual, “this might come in handy later. Could help soothe those red cheeks of yours.”

He spread butter across his pancakes with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact with me. The sadistic thrill on his face was unmistakable.

And fuck me, but my body responded. The dull, radiating burn from my cheeks suddenly felt less painful. My mind went straight to the image of Mark’s hands smoothing melted butter over my welted bottom, his tongue following the paths his fingers made. Heat pooled between my legs, and I squeezed my thighs together.

Mark took a bite, chewed thoughtfully. “So, Jenna.” He leaned back, draping one arm across the back of the booth. “How are you handling our arrangement?”

She paused mid-bite. “You’re not interested in how Skylar’s handling it?”

He looked at me with that crooked smile of his. “I’m not worried about her. I know how twisted she is.” His gaze held mine. “Has she ever shared any of her erotic writing with you?”

“No.” Jenna’s attention snapped to me. “But I want to read them.”

My face burned hotter than my ass. “They were just for me. No one else was supposed to read them.” I looked pointedly at Mark. “No one.”

He held up both hands in mock surrender. “I was just being a good dad. Keeping track of Kacey’s computer activities.”

“Oh, you definitely win the Parent of the Year award.”

His smile went wide as he pretended to take a dagger to the chest. “Such a sharp tongue.” He glanced at Jenna. “You should know—when she goes for the kill, she aims straight for the heart. No messing around with this one. You don’t want to get on her bad side.”

Jenna looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “I’ve already figured that out.” She stabbed at her eggs. “But I’m tough too.”

“You are tough.” Mark nodded slowly. “So, back to my original question. Are you holding up okay? I knew going into this little arrangement of ours that Skylar liked submission—even if she is a brat about it—but you, I wasn’t so sure.”

She shrugged, fork pushing eggs around her plate. “To be honest, I’m not sure yet.” She met his eyes. “But I love the place. And the freedom it gives me.” A pause. “And I like you.”

“I appreciate your honesty.” Mark leaned forward slightly. “So you’re just doing it for the apartment. You don’t really like being dominated.”

“I don’t exactly dislike it.” She set her fork down. When she looked at him again, her expression had shifted—direct, unflinching. “But to be honest, I would prefer it if you would just fuck me. Without all the games.” Her voice dropped lower. “I like older men. And I love your cock.”

Mark actually blushed.

I’d never seen that before. Never. The man who’d just beaten my ass raw with a leather strap, who’d made Jenna suck him while he spanked me, who loved orchestrating such depraved scenarios—he was genuinely shocked.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Cleared his throat.

“I like you very much, Jenna.” He recovered his composure, but barely. “Perhaps you’re right. Dominance and submission can be mine and Skylar’s thing.” His gaze scanned the room to make sure no one could overhear. “But with you, perhaps I should just fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.”

Now it was Jenna’s turn to blush. Her confident facade cracked, and she ducked her head, smiling into her coffee cup. “Let’s not be too hasty.” Her voice came out softer. “I’m finding it all very interesting. Curious what you’ll have us do next.”

The tension at the table shifted, lightened.

Mark cleared his throat again and reached for his coffee. “So what’s the deal with Mr. Franklin? He seemed pretty worked up yesterday.”

I groaned. “Our first encounter was when we were moving in. We parked in the no-parking zone by the dumpsters while unloading, and he yelled at us.”

“We were very nice to him,” Jenna added, an edge creeping into her tone. “And we’ve been nice since. But he’s been nothing but nasty.” She pointed her fork at Mark. “If it had been you parking there, or any guy, he wouldn’t have said a single word. He’s just a jaded old man who hates women.”

Mark nodded slowly. “That might be true.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “But I want you two to do what you can to stay friendly with him. I don’t need him complaining about you to the management.” His expression turned serious. “Promise me. Best behavior around him.”

“We promise,” we said in unison.

“He also commented about you having boys in the apartment.”

I immediately bristled. “You said we could date.”

“Calm down.” His hands went up again. “I’m not upset. I’m just asking.”

I took a breath, forcing my shoulders to relax. “Okay. Sorry.”

We explained about Darien and Enrique—the furniture assembly, the dinner invitation, the... rest of it. Mark listened without interrupting, his expression neutral.

“They sound like nice young men,” he said finally. “I approve.”

“Well, thank God my sugar daddy approves,” I said.

“Damn, Skylar, what’s with you today?” Mark asked, then smiled. “You’re acting all butt-hurt.”

Jenna snorted, and I stuck my tongue out at him before saying, “Okay, good one.”

The waitress appeared with the check, setting it face down on the table. Mark pulled out his wallet.

“Where did you get your furniture, anyway?” He pulled out some cash and placed it on the bill. “I’m thinking about getting a chest of drawers to keep some clothes in. And, maybe, some other things.”

A shiver ran through me at other things.

Toys. He meant toys.

I’d always liked toys. Especially, his type of toys.

Mark drove us to the thrift store and walked straight to the furniture section, as if he owned the place, surveying the mismatched pieces.

He stopped in front of a tall chest of drawers—dark wood, six drawers, simple brass handles. The same style as my desk and bookshelf.

“This one.” He ran his hand along the top. “It’ll fit in your room, right?”

My breath caught. Your room. Not Jenna’s. Not the apartment. But my room, specifically.

“Yeah,” I managed. “It matches what I already have.”

He nodded, flagged down an employee, and paid.

I glanced at Jenna. Her expression stayed neutral, but I knew she’d caught it, too. After the Super Bowl, he’d slept on the couch. A neutral space.

Did she mind? Did she want him in her bed? Or was she relieved?

I hated myself for caring. For the petty thrill warming my chest.

I hope he sleeps in Jenna’s room tonight, I told myself.

But that was a lie. Who was I fooling? I didn’t. I wanted him next to me. Wanted his body heat to keep me warm through the night and to wake up next to him.

As we pulled into the apartment complex, Mr. Franklin was shuffling back from the mailboxes with Ranger straining at the end of his leash.

Mark swung the truck around and reversed straight into the no-parking spot beside the dumpster.

“No, don’t park here—this is the no-parking spot.”

Mark put the truck in park and turned off the engine. “Let’s test Jenna’s theory.”

“Oh hell yeah.” Jenna leaned forward from the backseat. “I want to see him say something to you.”

We climbed out and opened the tailgate. Mr. Franklin and Ranger passed within feet of us. The old man turned his head, shoulders stiffening. His mouth opened slightly—then kept walking. The apartment door slammed behind him.

All three of us burst out laughing.

“You think he can hear us?” I wiped my eyes.

“Probably not.” Mark grabbed the hand truck from the truck bed. “He’s old.”

Still grinning, I watched Mark maneuver the chest of drawers toward the edge. “Can we help?”

“No.” He angled it onto the hand truck and secured the straps. “I’ve got it.”

Jenna and I followed him up the stairs. His shoulders flexed beneath his shirt with each step, biceps straining as he tilted the load back. The hand truck wheels thunked against each stair. His forearms corded, veins standing out as he gripped the handles.

I caught Jenna staring too. She met my eyes and pretended to fan herself.

At the top, Mark wheeled it toward our door, barely breaking a sweat. He unlocked the door and positioned the chest in my room.

“I’m not going to push my luck.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “Better move the truck before Mr. Franklin calls the office.”

I stood in the doorway, staring at the dark wood chest now sitting in my bedroom. His clothes and toys would fill those six drawers. His things would permanently occupy my space.

A warmth spread through my chest—unmitigated pleasure, childish and giddy.

Like we were playing some twisted game of house. And I was winning.

My alarm went off at half past seven, and I lay there for a full thirty seconds pretending I hadn’t heard it.

The ceiling came into focus, and I glanced around the room. Clothes draped over my desk chair. Three empty bottles lined up on my windowsill like some kind of art installation. A plate on the floor with the dried remains of Enrique’s salsa still on it.

I sat up.

The room was a disaster. Who was I kidding? The whole apartment was a disaster.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

9:17 AM.

Mark and his wife, Rebecca, were coming at eleven.

He had texted me yesterday to remind me. A single, characteristically terse message:

Rebecca’s been looking forward to this. You know how she is about cleanliness. She’ll open every cabinet. Make sure the place is immaculate.

I had every intention of cleaning. I’d made a list. I’d bought a new bottle of bleach specifically for the toilet. But then Enrique had shown up with Darien, and I forgot. By the time I looked at my phone again, it was 2 AM, and the list was still untouched on the kitchen counter.

I threw back the duvet and crossed the hall barefoot.

Jenna’s door was open. The bed was made—sort of—but she wasn’t in it. I stood in the doorway staring at the empty room.

I needed her help if I had any hope of getting the place clean before Mark and Rebecca arrived. I called her, but it went to voicemail. My phone buzzed a few seconds later.

Track practice. All the way across town. On my way. Sorry!!

Then a single crying-laughing emoji that I did not find funny.

I stood in the hallway in my oversized sleep shirt and felt the cold dread of someone who has run out of options.

Fuck. I would have to hurry.

I showered in under four minutes. Didn’t condition. Wrapped my hair and pulled it up while still dripping, then moved through the apartment in controlled panic, not actually cleaning so much as redistributing. Dishes still in the sink. I pushed the door to Jenna’s room wider and started throwing things in—a throw blanket, Darien’s forgotten hoodie, a collection of shoes that had somehow migrated from the entryway into the living room—onto Jenna’s bed and shut the door. My own closet got the same treatment. An empty pizza box. A stack of unread course packets. The throw pillow with the wine stain.

I was still in my robe, hair turbaned in a towel, when the knock came.

I answered it knowing before I even touched the handle.

Mark stood behind Rebecca, hands in his jacket pockets. He took one look at me—at the towel on my head, at the state of the living room behind me—and the line of his mouth went flat.

“Mrs. Sullivan!” I said, forcing brightness into my voice. “You’re early.”

“Only by fifteen minutes, sweetheart.” Mrs. Sullivan stepped inside and immediately pulled me into a hug. She smelled like her usual perfume, something floral and expensive. When she released me, her eyes were soft. “Look at you. All grown up with your own place.”

“It’s... still a work in progress.”

Her gaze swept the room. The stack of textbooks on the coffee table. The blanket bunched on the couch. The empty glasses I’d forgotten on the end table.

“I can see that.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t warm either. She moved toward the kitchen, and I followed, heart pounding.

Mark’s hand brushed the small of my back as he passed. A wave of guilt shot through me. I had fucked her husband in every room of this apartment.

She opened the refrigerator. Inspected the shelves. Closed it and turned to the sink, where plates and mugs sat in stagnant water.

“When’s the last time you did dishes, honey?”

“Yesterday,” I lied.

“Hmm.”

She opened a cabinet. Found our mismatched glassware and the stack of paper plates we’d been using because we kept forgetting to run the dishwasher.

“You girls are living like college students.”

“We are college students.”

Mark coughed behind me. A sound that could’ve been a laugh or a reprimand.

Rebecca’s expression softened. She reached out and tucked a strand of damp hair behind my ear. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be critical. It’s... I miss having Kacey around to fuss over. You’re both so young, and you’re trying your best.”

Guilt twisted in my stomach. If only she knew.

“Where’s your roommate?” Mark asked.

“Track practice. She should be back any minute.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Rebecca said, moving back toward the living room. “Why don’t you show me the rest of the place?”

I led them down the hall. My bedroom first. I’d shoved most of the mess into my closet, but Rebecca still noticed the stack of clothes on my desk chair.

“You need a hamper.”

“I have one.”

“Where?”

“In the closet.”

She opened the closet door before I could stop her. The pile of hidden junk tumbled out onto the floor.

“Skylar.”

“I know. I’ll clean it today. I promise.”

I looked over at Mark, who stood rigid by the doorway. The look he gave me could’ve burned through steel.

Heat crawled up my neck.

Rebecca noticed. “Oh dear, don’t be embarrassed. You’re only eighteen.” She waved a hand. “I was a mess at your age too.”

She glanced at Mark, who was still staring a hole through me. Her fingers touched his arm. “Honey, why don’t you excuse yourself to the living room? Skylar needs to change.”

Mark turned to exit. His footsteps retreated down the hall.

Rebecca did not follow.

Panic rushed through me. Was she going to stay and watch me dress? I had changed in front of her before, but not in years.

She sat on the edge of my bed, crossing one leg over the other.

I hesitated, then dropped the robe.

Goosebumps rose across my bare skin. I moved toward my closet, trying to keep my back to her, but I could feel her eyes on me.

“My goodness,” she said. “You young women today shave so much of your pubic area.”

I froze.

“My generation let it grow,” she continued, as if we were discussing the weather. “Some took it too far, of course. But I prefer to keep a full, but neatly trimmed bush.”

Blood rushed to my face. I turned slightly, enough to see her watching me, licking her lips.

“I hope I’m not embarrassing you.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Don’t be so formal.” She smiled. “You can call me Rebecca now.”

I nodded, pulse hammering.

Despite the embarrassment—despite the fact that this was my best friend’s mother sitting in my bedroom commenting on my pussy—something about it was a bit of a turn-on. The way she looked at me. The ease in her voice. Like she knew something about me that I didn’t.

I turned back toward my closet, searching for jeans.

Rebecca sighed behind me. “I wish my ass still looked like that. So firm and round.”

I pulled a pair of jeans from the closet, trying to ignore the heat spreading through my body.

Footsteps crossed the floor. She was close now. Close enough that I could smell her perfume again.

“Which drawer do you keep your panties in?”

“Top drawer.”

She opened it. Rifled through the contents while I stood there holding my jeans like an idiot.

“Oh, look at these.” She pulled out a pair—black lace with little pink hearts. The ones Mark had given me two weeks ago. “I have a pair just like these. In fact, I’m wearing mine now.”

My stomach dropped.

She pulled her skirt down slightly, revealing the waistband of her panties. They were identical. Black lace. Pink hearts.

And I could see some of her black pubic hair sticking out from the side of the fabric.

“Here, we’ll match.” She handed the pair to me.

I almost lost it. Did she know?

I took them. What choice did I have?

I stepped into them, one leg at a time, pulling them up slowly. As the lace settled over my hips, I felt her hand find my waist, before working its way around to my ass.

“God, I miss when my ass was that firm.” Her fingers cupped my left butt cheek. “I bet your boyfriend likes you in these. I know Mark likes it when I wear them for him.”

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

This was a nightmare. Mark had made it sound like their relationship was all but over.

“I don’t have a boyfriend yet,” I managed.

Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “Then honey, what are those condoms doing in your waste basket?”

My mouth went dry. They had to be Enriques, because Mark didn’t use condoms when he used me.

“It’s okay,” she said gently. “You don’t have to lie to me. You can tell me anything. It’s perfectly natural for a young woman in college to be sexually active.”

Oh my god. This was a conversation I certainly did not want to have. Not with her. Not with my best friend’s mom. Not when the man I’d fucked more times than any other, in this apartment, was her husband.

I grabbed a bra and shirt from the closet. Threw them on. My hands shook as I buttoned my jeans.

I rushed out of the room. As I did, I caught a glimpse of her in my mirror next to the door.

She was smiling.

I turned the corner to enter the living room as the front door swung open. Jenna stepped in, a bag slung over one shoulder, cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Sorry, sorry!” She dropped her bag by the door. “Coach kept us late.”

“You must be Jenna, Skylar’s roommate.” Rebecca crossed the room and pulled her into a hug before Jenna could react.

Jenna shot me a look over Rebecca’s shoulder.

“This is Mrs. Sullivan,” I said.

“Oh, please.” Rebecca released her. “Call me Rebecca. Both of you.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jenna’s voice was steady. Calmer than mine had been. “Sorry the place is such a mess. We’ve been swamped.”

“Don’t apologize.” Rebecca said. “Skylar just showed me her room. I’d love to see yours too, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” Jenna glanced at me again, then led Rebecca down the hall.

The second they disappeared, I crossed to Mark and grabbed his arm.

“Does she know?” I whispered.

He frowned. “What?”

“Does she know about us?”

“Of course not.” He kept his voice low. “Why would you say that?”

“She’s acting weird.”

“She’s nervous.” He touched my face. “She misses Kacey. You’re the closest thing she has to her right now.”

Before I could respond, he pulled me into the kitchen and pressed me against the wall. His mouth found mine, hungry and insistent.

I tried not to kiss him back. I could hear Jenna’s voice from down the hall, muffled but clear enough to make out words.

“This one’s from regionals sophomore year...” She was showing Rebecca her trophies. That would take a while.

Mark’s hand slid down my stomach. Into my jeans. His fingers found my wetness and I protested against his mouth.

“Mark—”

“Shh.”

Two fingers pushed inside me. His tongue filled my mouth. My body responded before my brain could catch up, hips tilting toward him.

God. How sick was I? His wife was right there. Just a living room, hallway, and bedroom away.

His fingers made quick circles. My knees buckled.

He held me upright with his other hand, pinning me to the wall while his fingers worked. Pressure built low in my belly. I heard Jenna explaining about state finals. One more trophy to go.

The orgasm hit me hard. I exhaled into his mouth, biting back the sound that wanted to escape.

Voices grew louder. Closer.

Mark pulled away, extracting his hand. We stepped into the living room just as Jenna and Rebecca came around the corner.

“I’m so impressed,” Rebecca was saying. “You girls are doing so well.”

She glanced at me and stopped.

“Dear, are you okay? You look like you just ran a marathon.”

I looked down. Moisture glistened on my arms. I felt a bead of sweat run down my forehead.

I wasn’t built for this. This was too much.

“She’s just upset about the apartment,” Mark said, stepping in. His voice was smooth and confident.

Rebecca approached and pulled me into another hug.

“Calm down, sweetheart. It’s all okay.” She rubbed my back. “You should see Kacey’s place in New York. It’s much worse than this.”

“Really?” My voice came out small. “That makes me feel better.”

She pulled back and looked me in the eyes.

I felt like she could see everything. Every lie. Every betrayal. The orgasm still pulsing between my legs.

“You just keep doing what you’re doing,” she said softly.

Tears rushed into my eyes.

Oh God. Why did she have to say it like that?

I wanted to cry out. To beg forgiveness. She’d always been so sweet to me.

And here I was, betraying her in the worst way possible.

“Now.” Rebecca smiled. “Who wants brunch?”

As we descended the stairs from our apartment, Mr. Franklin was in the downstairs hallway with Ranger, who immediately planted himself in front of Rebecca and refused to move. Mr. Franklin adjusted his glasses and squinted at us.

Mrs. Sullivan extended her hand. “Rebecca Sullivan. This is my husband Mark.”

Mr. Franklin peered at Mark with the slow scrutiny of someone cataloging a face against a mental file.

“You look familiar,” he said.

My stomach dropped.

Mark smiled, easy and unbothered. “I’ve got one of those faces.”

“Hmm.” Mr. Franklin kept staring. “Maybe.”

“Old eyes,” he added, waving a hand. “Everyone starts looking the same after a while.”

Mrs. Sullivan, who had been watching this exchange with polite attention, turned to him.

“I hope Skylar and Jenna are good neighbors?”

Mr. Franklin looked at her over the rim of his glasses.

“Well.” He drew the word out. “Boys in and out. Thumping around upstairs at night—I don’t know what they’re doing up there, but it’s not sleeping. Music at all hours.” He said the word “music” as if it were a type of mould. “And when they moved in—” he pointed at me, “—that one parked in the no-parking zone for the better part of an afternoon.”

“I moved it,” I said.

“Eventually.”

Mrs. Sullivan closed her eyes for precisely two seconds. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure they will do better.”

“Mm.” Mr. Franklin tugged Ranger’s lead and shuffled toward his door. “I hope they will.”

I rolled my eyes, but when I glanced at Mark, he was watching me. A patch of red was spreading across his neck. He had warned us not to get into any trouble with the neighbors, as his name was on the lease.

After lunch, we walked around campus. Mrs. Sullivan wanted to see the places she and Mark used to hang out when they attended school there. She showed us the place they first met and where they first kissed. Mark walked beside her, holding her hand for long stretches. That little excursion did nothing to assuage my guilt.

Mrs. Sullivan’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, then squeezed Mark’s hand. “I need to take this—work thing.” She wandered toward a bench near the library, pressing the phone to her ear.

Mark waited until she was out of earshot, then turned to us. His jaw set. “I’m disappointed in both of you. The apartment.” His voice dropped. “It was a pigsty.”

“Mrs. Sullivan didn’t seem to mind—”

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d fucked up.

Mark’s eyes locked onto mine. Ice-cold.

I tried to take it back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear any excuses.” His tone made my stomach drop. “But the next time I show up, the place had better be clean enough to eat off the goddamn floor.”

“It will be,” Jenna promised. “We’ll clean it the moment we get home. And, we’ll keep it clean from now on.”

I nodded.

“And make nice with that asshole downstairs. I’d better not get a call about the two of you from the apartment manager.”

Fuck me. That would be harder than the cleaning.

Back at the apartment complex, Jenna and me climbed out of the truck and stood on the curb. Mrs. Sullivan waved through the passenger window. Mark’s eyes found mine in the side mirror for just a moment as they pulled away.

We stood there until the truck turned the corner and disappeared. I let out a breath that felt like I’d been holding it since morning.

By the time Mark came back—probably a month or so—hopefully all would be forgotten.

We turned and went inside.

As luck would have it, Mr. Franklin was just stepping out of his apartment as we entered the foyer, Ranger trotting ahead of him on his lead. The dog planted his paws and stared at me with its beady little eyes.

I crouched down and held out my hand, as Jenna headed upstairs.

“Hey, Ranger.” He sniffed my fingers, then allowed me to scratch behind his ears. “Good boy.”

I stood and faced Mr. Franklin directly.

“I want to apologize to you, Mr. Franklin.” I kept my voice even. “I promise to never park in the no-parking spot again. We’ll keep the noise down after ten, and try to walk lighter.” I paused. “I hope we can be friends?”

He studied me from behind his thick glasses, mouth working like he was chewing something over. Ranger sat beside him, having apparently decided I wasn’t a threat.

“That’s a start,” Mr. Franklin said finally.

It wasn’t warm, but it was something. I stepped forward and gave him a quick hug—he went rigid as a lamppost.

“But I still think you and that roommate of yours are nothing but common whores.”

The words hit me like cold water thrown directly in my face. The back of my neck burned. My jaw tightened so hard it ached.

Don’t say anything. Don’t tell him exactly what you think of him.

I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth.

Nothing I said right now—nothing—would come out the way I wanted it to. It would just be noise. Angry noise that would follow me every time I passed him in this hallway.

I raised my voice just enough to be heard.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

I kept my chin up until I heard the building’s front door close, and my shoulders collapsed. I gripped the banister and climbed, one step at a time, the word rattling around in my skull like a stone in a tin can.

Whores.

I let myself into the apartment and stood there motionless for a moment. The worst part wasn’t even the word itself. It was that I’d been standing there genuinely proud of myself. Two minutes of civil conversation with a grumpy old man and I’d felt like a completely reformed human being. A new Skylar, responsible and neighbourly.

And then he’d said that, and whatever small warmth I’d built up drained straight out of me.

He was eighty-something and lonely and probably hadn’t said a kind word to anyone since his wife died.

I also knew, if I was being honest with myself, that maybe he had a point. That was the part that actually stung.

Jenna came out of the kitchen with a Diet Coke and dropped onto the couch.

“We need to do better,” I said. “Seriously. Especially when Mark’s coming.” I looked at her pointedly. “You’ve seen what he’s like when he’s in a good mood.”

“Right.” Jenna pulled a face. “I don’t need to see him when he’s angry...” She let the sentence trail off, shaking her head slowly. “Hard pass on that.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay. Yeah. You’re right.” She nodded once, decisive. “We keep the place clean. Agreed. But he won’t be back for at least a month, so no need to worry about it now.”

Then she reached out with her foot and pushed an empty potato chip bag off the coffee table and onto the floor.

She looked up at me, completely straight-faced.

“You’re so bad,” I said.

Author’s Note: If you have been reading my series The Education of Skylar, I have been updating the story as I publish them on Amazon. You can read this as a standalone story, but you might want to go back and read chapters 7 through 10 of book 3, as I recently added a new plot point featuring Mark’s wife, Rebecca.

The story below is the first chapter of book 4.

The highway stretched dark and empty ahead, pine trees crowding both sides like silent sentinels. I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel, the memory of my husband Mark’s experience with Skylar and her roommate, Jenna, still fresh in my mind.

I’d heard the anxiety in Skylar’s voice when I called, but the girl stayed cool—I had to give her that. She’d kept her voice steady, answered my questions about classes and roommates like she wasn’t currently getting railed by my husband.

“Mrs. Sullivan, hi! How are you?”

So polite. So earnest.

I’d pictured her on that couch, phone pressed to her ear, eyes wide as Mark positioned himself between her thighs. The way she would’ve looked up at him, pleading silently for him to stop, to wait until the call ended. But Mark wouldn’t wait.

He’d parted her legs and pushed inside, stretching her pussy wide while I asked about her literature professor. She’d stammered once, covered it with a cough. Amateur move, but understandable given the circumstances. I’d felt for her. No one knew better than me how hard it was to concentrate on anything else while that massive cock of his was ramming in and out of you. I had nicknamed it “my little monster.”

I’d touched myself, imagining Mark picking up his pace, watching Skylar fight to maintain composure. The girl deserved credit. Most people would’ve cracked. But she’d held it together, answered every question of mine.

Crafty little thing. I should be angry with her. I mean, how dare she think she could fuck my husband behind my back. Even let him rent her an apartment for her and that Jenna girl. Did she really think I wouldn’t find out? She thought she was being cute.

Mark had filled me in on the roommate later. Jenna. Athletic, direct, sexually confident in a way Skylar wasn’t yet. From what Mark described, Jenna approached their arrangement in a very casual way. No guilt, no shame, just pragmatic acceptance of the terms.

That would be fun to break.

Next weekend I’d drive down, take them both to lunch. Play the role of the supportive older woman, the generous family friend. I’d watch them squirm, knowing what they’d done with my husband while trying to make small talk over salads.

Maybe I’d mention how Mark had been in such a good mood when he came home last weekend. Watch their guilty little faces as they processed the implications.

But the real prize would come later. Months from now, when I finally revealed I’d known everything from the beginning. That I’d orchestrated it. That every moment of guilt and shame they’d carried was by my design.

Then they’d kneel.

Both of them.

And they’d call me Mistress.

My headlights caught the unmarked turnoff. I slowed, nearly missing it in the darkness. The narrow road cut into the woods, barely wide enough for one vehicle. Branches scraped the sides of my sedan as I navigated the winding path.

Elijah’s paranoia made sense given what he’d been through, though neither he nor Mark would discuss the details. I’d pieced together fragments over the years—a mission gone wrong, capture, days or weeks of interrogation. Mark always grew silent whenever it came up.

Elijah’s response to domination surprised me.

Most people would assume a man who’d survived torture would avoid anything resembling powerlessness. Yet Elijah craved exactly that. The controlled environment, the trust required to submit, the ability to process trauma through consensual recreation. It all made a twisted kind of sense.

He knew I loved him. That I’d never truly harm him.

And his cock was magnificent. It was not as large as Mark’s, but prettier somehow, like a sculptor had carved it as the perfect representation of manhood. If I were honest, Mark’s cock was what you imagined you wanted, while Elijah’s was what you actually wanted. Mark’s was just a tad too long and a bit too wide, but I wasn’t complaining. And lucky for me, they both knew exactly how to use their gifts.

The gate appeared in my headlights, iron bars stretching across the driveway. I punched in the code Mark had given me months ago, watched the mechanism grind open.

Straight as fuck, both of them. Yet they did anything I told them to, faces flushed with humiliation and their cocks hard with arousal. They’d never touch each other without my command, and would probably gag at the thought in any other context.

But when I told them to? They obeyed.

That was real power.

Skylar had given us that. That was why I couldn’t be angry with her. Her stories, her dark little fantasies typed out in vivid detail, had cracked open something in both Mark and me. Our marriage had been dying slowly, suffocating under the weight of routine and unspoken needs. We loved each other, but the spark had dimmed to barely a flicker.

Then those files appeared on our daughter Kacey’s laptop.

We’d devoured every word. Stayed up late reading passages aloud, discovering desires we’d never contemplated. The sex that followed had been explosive, revelatory.

I owed that girl.

Which made corrupting her so much sweeter.

The driveway opened into a clearing. The cabin sat dark and silent, surrounded by towering pines. Elijah’s man-made lake reflected moonlight to the left, the picnic table a shadowy outline near the shore.

No trucks. The clearing was empty.

I smiled, killing the engine.

They were late.

That meant I had time to prepare. To set the stage for whatever punishment their tardiness had earned.

I unlocked the cabin door with the spare key Elijah kept hidden under a false stone near the steps. The interior was exactly as I remembered—sparse, functional, unadorned except for a few military mementos on the mantle. A tactical precision marked everything, from the folded throw blanket on the couch to the meticulously stacked firewood beside the hearth.

The dining table would serve my purpose perfectly.

I set my bag down and began unpacking. Black leather cuffs lined with crimson velvet. Two collars, one thicker than the other. A riding crop. A paddle. Nipple clamps connected by a delicate silver chain. And of course, Mark’s chastity cage—pink plastic, humiliatingly small, secured with a tiny lock I wore on a chain around my neck.

Each item found its place on the scarred wood surface. I arranged them with care, creating a tableau that would greet them the moment they walked through that door.

The fire took only minutes to build. I’d learned from watching Elijah on previous visits—kindling first, then progressively larger pieces, air flow controlled just so. Flames licked up around the logs, casting dancing shadows across the cabin’s interior.

Midnight came and went.

I checked my phone. 12:15. No messages.

My fingers drummed against my leather-clad thigh. The outfit had taken twenty minutes to get into—a black leather corset that cinched my waist and pushed my breasts up, matching g-string that left almost nothing covered, thigh-high boots with heels sharp enough to be weapons. My hair fell loose around my shoulders, dark and wild.

12:20.

The fire crackled. I added another log, watched sparks spiral up the chimney.

12:25.

Heat built beneath my skin that had nothing to do with arousal. They knew better. Both of them knew I didn’t tolerate tardiness.

Then I heard it—the rumble of engines cutting through the forest silence. Headlights swept across the cabin windows as two trucks pulled into the clearing.

I was already moving toward the door.

The February air hit like a slap when I stepped onto the porch. My breath clouded white in front of my face. The leather did nothing against the cold, but I held my ground, arms crossed beneath my breasts.

Their engines died simultaneously. Doors opened.

“You’re late,” I said.

Mark emerged from his truck first, Elijah a heartbeat behind. Both froze when they saw me illuminated in the porch light.

“Sorry, Mistress,” Mark said. “We lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time.” I let the words hang in the frozen air. “How pathetic. Keeping me waiting like some common whore.”

“Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?” Elijah’s voice carried that edge of desperation I’d learned to recognize.

I rolled my eyes, turned slowly so they could see the g-string bisecting my ass, the curve of my hips emphasized by the corset’s structure. The cold raised goosebumps across my exposed skin.

“I’ll consider what your punishment should be.” I glanced over my shoulder at them. “First, undress. Then crawl into the house.”

I didn’t wait to see if they obeyed. I knew they would. The warmth of the cabin enveloped me as I crossed the threshold, settling myself in front of the fireplace. Behind me, I heard the rustle of clothing being removed, the thud of boots hitting wood, the soft scramble of hands and knees against the deck planks.

They appeared in my peripheral vision, two grown men reduced to crawling animals. They reached me and immediately assumed position—kneeling with hands clasped behind their backs, heads bowed, spines straight.

Good posture deserved praise, but fuck them. They’d kept me waiting.

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Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Author’s Note: Chapters 14 through 23 of The Education of Skylar have been compiled into book 3 of The Education of Skylar, Free Use Game Day, available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. The audiobook version and NSFW character images are still available below.

Fucking My Daughter’s BFF by Skylar Reyes

The notification lit up my phone just as I merged onto the highway. Delivery confirmation for 2847 Riverside Drive. The delivery person would leave the box at the gate as usual.

The Havershams were in Europe on vacation. They had chosen my real estate agency to sell their mini-mansion while they were away. I had put my daughter, Michelle, in charge of staging the house before we submitted the listing.

The property should sell itself once potential buyers saw what Michelle had done with the space.

I found the package at the end of the driveway by the gate. It was bedspreads for the four bedrooms of the house. I would leave the package inside the front door for Michelle to deal with the next morning.

I climbed out of my BMW, my dress shoes crunching on the gravel. The evening air carried the scent of jasmine from the landscaped gardens. Everything looked pristine.

The front door opened smoothly with my key. I reached for the security panel, ready to punch in the code.

The screen was dark. Not armed.

“Michelle,” I muttered under my breath, irritation flaring. We’d discussed this. An empty multi-million dollar property, and she’d forgotten the most basic security protocol.

Then I heard it—the faint sound of water running. And music, barely audible, drifting from somewhere deep in the house.

My irritation shifted to concern. I moved through the foyer, past the staged living spaces Michelle had transformed. “Michelle?” I called out.

“Hello?” My voice echoed through the marble foyer. “Is someone here?”

Silence.

I moved through the first floor, checking the kitchen, the library, the formal dining room. Nothing appeared disturbed. The staging furniture sat exactly where Michelle had positioned it.

I climbed the curved staircase to find the master suite door ajar, warm light spilling into the hallway. Steam drifted from the bathroom.

“Is someone up here?” I called out, my tone firm but not aggressive. I didn’t want trouble, just answers.

The music volume dropped suddenly.

“I can hear you up there. I don’t want any trouble.”

Still no response, but I could hear movement—a splash of water.

I pushed the bathroom door open.

What I saw took my breath away.

Eden Chase sat in the massive soaking tub, surrounded by mountains of bubbles. Her green eyes went wide with recognition and horror as our gazes locked. Wet blonde hair clung to her shoulders, and she sank deeper into the water until only her head remained visible above the foam.

What the hell is Eden doing here?

“Eden?” The name came out sharper than I intended.

She was my daughter Michelle’s BFF. They had been inseparable since grade school. I’d watched her grow up alongside my daughter—skinned knees, birthday parties, late-night movies. She’d always been like a second daughter to me.

“Mr. Carter! I—I can explain.”

My mind struggled to process the scene. Eighteen-year-old Eden was naked in my client’s bathtub like she owned the place.

“I hope you can,” I said, keeping my voice level despite the surge of confusion and anger. “I came to check on a delivery we’re waiting for and saw a car in the driveway. I thought someone had broken in.”

She swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. “Michelle was so excited about her new job and brought us over to see the house last night. I accidentally left something here and remembered the codes.” Her green eyes pleaded with me. “Please don’t tell Michelle. I’m so sorry!”

The professional in me took over. “Michelle should not have shown you the house without permission. That was completely unprofessional. I’ll have to speak with her about this.”

The color drained from her face. “Please don’t do that. She’ll be furious with me, and we’re already fighting. Can’t this be a secret between the two of us? Please?”

I shook my head firmly. Michelle needed to understand boundaries, especially if she wanted to work in real estate. “I can’t do that, Eden. I’ll give you privacy to get dressed.”

I turned toward the door, already thinking about what I’d say to my daughter.

“Mr. Carter, before you leave, I have one thing to tell you.” Eden’s voice stopped me. “Please turn around.”

Something in her tone made me hesitate. Against my better judgment, I turned slowly.

Eden stood up in the tub.

Holy fuck.

Water cascaded down her body. Bubbles clung strategically to her breasts and between her legs, concealing very little. She was all curves and smooth skin, young and perfect and completely off-limits.

“Eden, what are you doing?” My voice came out strangled.

She held my gaze with an assertiveness I’d never seen from her before. “I’ve always found you attractive. You’ve always been my ideal of what a man should be.” She tilted her head slightly. “Do you find me attractive?”

Read more

Welcome to my Sophisticated Erotica podcast. I’m Skylar Reyes. If you enjoy this preview, consider joining my subscribers-only podcast, where you will get uncensored access to ALL my audio content—more than twice what is available on this free feed. New members currently receive a twenty-five percent discount at signup. Find me at... https://skylarreyes.substack.com . Now... let’s get naughty.

Author’s Note: This is the audio version of my book Used By My Best Friend’s Dad. It is the second book in my series, The Education of Skylar. The eBook is available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. Free members can listen to the preview, while paid members can hear the entire story.

One surprise visit. One indecent proposal. One night of extreme submission.

Explicit Age Gap & BDSM Content

It’s been three weeks since that forbidden night with Mark, my best friend’s dad. Three weeks of replaying every moment of that night over and over again in my head. Three weeks of guilt... and desperate craving.

I thought our affair was a one-time mistake. But when Mark shows up at my college dorm, I realize he’s been fantasizing about me too.

He wants me again. Says he needs me.

I try to say no, but Mark knows exactly how to tempt a college student living in a cramped dorm room: her own apartment.

At a seedy motel on the wrong side of town, I discover the terrifying truth. The gentle man I know and love has a much darker side.

Caught between her boyfriend's eager inexperience and her own fantasies about older men, a young woman navigates her first sexual encounter.

Welcome to my Sophisticated Erotica podcast. I’m Skylar Reyes. If you enjoy this preview, consider joining my subscribers-only podcast, where you will get uncensored access to ALL my audio content—more than twice what is available on this free feed. New members currently receive a twenty-five percent discount at signup. Find me at... https://skylarreyes.substack.com . Now... let’s get naughty.

All characters are consenting adults (18+).

The Story:

The sounds of clothes being removed from hangers, suitcases being unzipped, and clothes being packed echoed through the cramped dorm room as the three young women maneuvered around one another. Britney packed her laptop between designer sweaters, her honey blonde hair swishing as she moved. At five-foot-five with striking blue-gray eyes, she looked every inch the sorority princess-except for the dog-eared copy of The Federalist Papers she had tucked away in her suitcase. Light reading for her.

Sofia packed her criminal justice notes into her backpack. The petite Puerto Rican had curves that her high-waisted jeans showcased perfectly, and the confidence to match. Her thick, wavy hair bounced as she tossed a bold red sweater into her bag.

“I’m going to miss you two so much,” Sofia said, pulling out her phone, drawing them in close for a group selfie. “Let’s stay in touch, and I want all the deets if either of you hook up over the break, so I can live vicariously through you.”

“Obviously,” Britney agreed. “Though I’m telling you both now, there won’t be any details to share.”

“Uh-huh.” Suji said, her straight black hair falling across one shoulder. “That’s what you said before spring break.”

“That was different—”

The door burst open without a knock, and Courtney pranced in like she owned the place. Her platinum blonde hair looked freshly styled, and her designer outfit probably cost more than all their outfits combined. At five-foot-seven with ice-blue eyes, she had the kind of classical beauty that belonged in magazines—and she knew it.

“Girls!” Her voice carried that particular tone of someone who expected attention. “I’m just popping by to say goodbye before my European adventure.”

The three roommates exchanged glances. Courtney had a talent for making every conversation about herself and reminding everyone of how wealthy her family was.

“Europe sounds amazing,” Britney said politely, not meaning a word of it.

“Oh, it will be.” Courtney perched on the edge of Sofia’s desk. “Daddy arranged for us to stay with some very important people. I can’t name names, but let’s say... they wear crowns.”

Suji’s eyebrows shot up, and Sofia’s eyes rolled back.

“That’s... wow,” Britney managed.

“I know, right?” Courtney examined her perfectly manicured nails. “Of course, not everyone knows how to conduct themselves around people of such distinction. You have to know when to bow and how to sit properly. Some people”—she looked around the room—”simply wouldn’t know how to act in such company.”

Suji’s jaw tightened, but before she could say something she might regret, footsteps echoed from the hall. Brad appeared in the doorway, his dirty-blond hair perfectly tousled and his boyish smile firmly in place.

“Ladies,” he said, his masculine voice carrying just enough warmth to make each girl feel a thrill down below. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Courtney immediately transformed, practically throwing herself at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as if she’d been starving for contact. “Baby! Perfect timing.”

Brad’s hands settled on her waist, though his eyes continued to roam the room. They lingered perhaps a beat too long on Sofia’s curves. The roommates all noticed this and smiled knowingly at each other.

“Just saying goodbye to the girls,” Courtney continued, pressing into him. “After they leave, we’ll have the whole house to ourselves. All my other sisters have left already.”

Brad’s smile widened. “Sounds great, babe.”

Courtney’s phone chimed with a text notification. She glanced at it and sighed dramatically. “Ugh, my dry cleaning’s ready.”

“Want me to come with?” Brad offered, though he didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about the prospect.

“No, no.” Courtney waved him off. “You can just wait in my room. I’ll be back soon, and then we’ll have the whole evening to ourselves.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick mark.

As she headed for the door, Britney called after her, “Courtney! Have the most amazing holiday,” her voice dripping with false sweetness.

“Yes!” Sofia chimed in, her smile bright and genuine-looking. “Take tons of pictures. We’ll look forward to hearing everything when you get back.”

Courtney paused in the doorway, apparently surprised by their sudden warmth. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you girls. You all try to have a good time with your families, too. Sometimes, simpler is better, you know.”

With that, she swept out, leaving her expensive perfume lingering in the air and Brad standing somewhat awkwardly in the doorway.

Britney, Sofia, and Suji all made pretentious faces at one another and pranced around the room pretending they were Courtney.

Brad just smiled and shook his head, leaning against the doorframe. “I know she’s a handful, but y’all are terrible.”

He straightened up and put on an exaggerated sweet voice, clasping his hands together. “Oh, Courtney, have the most amazing holiday! Take tons of pictures! We’ll look forward to hearing everything! His voice dropped back to normal. “Give me a break.”

“But she’s just so awful,” Britney protested, closing her suitcase with more force than necessary. “Literally everything she says is some kind of backhanded compliment or just a straight-up insult.”

“I know.” Brad ran a hand through his hair. “But it’s the way she was raised. Her parents are even worse than she is... they think they’re better than everyone else.”

Sofia tilted her head, studying him with those dark, expressive eyes. “Why do you stay with her? Do you really love her?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Brad’s look grew distant as he considered it.

“It’s more like a business arrangement,” he eventually replied, his tone softer now. “She decided she wanted me during sophomore year and chased me until I agreed. Now, my folks and her family expect us to stay together... And at this point... she might murder me if I broke up with her.” He slouched his shoulders in defeat. “She’s freaking scary.”

“It’s true, she doesn’t take being told no very well,” Suji agreed. “She might just do it.”

“Remember when that girl from Delta Phi accidentally took her spot in line at the coffee shop?” Britney shuddered. “Courtney made her life hell for weeks.”

Sofia had remained quiet throughout this exchange, but now she stood and slowly approached Brad, her curves accentuated by the fitted jeans and cropped sweater she wore. Without breaking eye contact, she gently took his hand and pulled him fully into the room, then closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“What’re you doin’?” Brad asked.

Sofia’s lips curved into a smile that held just a hint of mischief. “Courtney thinks she owns you... and she loves insulting us.” Her fingers traced along his forearm. “Perhaps there’s a way we can all make each other happy while getting back at her.”

Before he could respond, Sofia leaned up and pressed her lips to his neck, just below his ear. Brad held his breath as she let her hand slide down his tight-fitting t-shirt, letting her fingers trace along his rock-hard abs.

The tight fabric of his shirt revealed every contour beneath her fingertips. When her touch reached his belt, they could all see the unmistakable bulge straining against his khakis. She traced the outline of his cock through the fabric before giving him a firm squeeze.

Brad’s stopped breathing as he turned to face Sofia. She tilted her chin up, her sultry eyes locking on his as she pulled him down for a kiss. Her hand slipped beneath his waistband, and he groaned against her lips, his knees threatening to buckle from her touch.

Suji watched from across the room, her pulse quickening. She’d seen her roommates share plenty of things over the years—clothes, makeup, study notes, and yes, sometimes even guys. The three of them had an unspoken understanding about these moments.

While Sofia’s hand worked inside Brad’s pants, Suji knelt down and reached for his belt. Her fingers made quick work of the leather strap and zipper, tugging both his khakis and boxers down in one smooth motion.

Brad’s rather impressive manhood sprang free, and Suji’s lips parted slightly at the sight. His cock was an average thickness but long with prominent veins running along the shaft. Sofia’s hand guided him toward Suji’s waiting mouth, and when the warm wetness enveloped him, his legs nearly gave out entirely.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, his voice trembling with surprise and pleasure.

The girls exchanged amused glances and giggled at his reaction. Sofia kept one hand on his hip to steady him while continuing to kiss along his jawline. Suji’s dark hair fell over him as she worked, her technique confident.

Brad gripped the edge of Sofia’s desk, his knuckles white as he tried to maintain his balance. The contrast between Sofia’s soft lips on his neck and Suji’s warm mouth below sent an intense pleasure through his entire body.

“You okay there?” Sofia whispered against his ear, her accent adding a sultry edge to her words.

He could only nod, his usual charm and confidence completely stripped away.

Brad’s eyes swept across the room and landed on Britney. She stood pressed against her dresser, one hand moving beneath her shirt as she fondled her breast, the other disappeared inside her jeans. Her blue-gray eyes were fixed on the scene before her, pupils dilated with arousal as she watched her friend’s mouth work his cock.

The sight made his knees weak. He’d always found all three of them incredibly attractive—anyone with eyes could see that. Hell, he’d heard Jake Morrison from Sigma Chi tell stories about hooking up with all three of them at once, but Brad had dismissed it as typical fraternity bragging. Now, witnessing this firsthand, that story seemed a lot more believable.

He should stop this. The rational part of his brain screamed that he should tell them to stop, that he’d never cheated on Courtney before. But even as that thought crossed his mind, he remembered the times he’d caught her texting other guys, the late nights she claimed were “study sessions,” the way she’d shown up at his place drunk with messed-up hair and her lipstick smeared. She did whatever she wanted, said whatever she pleased, while he’d always been the faithful boyfriend.

And honestly, even if he wanted to stop this—which he absolutely didn’t—there was no way he could. This felt too incredible, and when would he ever have three gorgeous women willing to pleasure him simultaneously again? Never. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment. For as long as he could remember, he’d had a crush on all of them, especially Sofia.

Suddenly, the ticking clock on Sofia’s nightstand caught his attention. They only had thirty minutes before Courtney returned.

Brad beckoned Britney over with a slight wave. She approached, removing her hand from her jeans and extending her glistening fingers toward his mouth. He parted his lips and took them in, tasting her sweetness on his tongue.

“Do I taste good?” she whispered, her voice breathier than usual.

“You do,” he managed between Sofia’s kisses on his neck. “I want more. I want to taste all of you.”

At his words, Suji released him from her mouth and stood. She took his hand and led him to her bed in the center of the room, pushing him down onto the floral comforter. Without hesitation, she peeled off her designer jeans and climbed onto the bed, positioning herself over his face as Britney took her place between his legs.

Brad caught only a glimpse of Suji’s delicate folds before she lowered herself onto his mouth. Her pussy lips were small and perfectly formed, her opening looking incredibly tight. Her silky black pubic hair tickled his nose as she straddled his face. Within moments, his mouth was coated with her wetness. She tasted sweet, like honey.

He slipped his hands up under her shirt as he focused his tongue on her clit. Her breasts were small but firm in his palms, and her nipples were hard and long between his fingers.

“Oh fuck, your tongue feels so good,” Suji moaned above him, her voice losing its usual valley girl inflection. “You’re so talented. Lick my pussy good.”

“I want to try,” Sofia’s accented voice said.

Suji climbed off his face, Sofia quickly taking her place. Unlike Suji, Sofia had stripped completely naked. Looking up, Brad had a perfect view of her full breasts hanging above him as she squatted over his face. She spread her lips wide with her fingers, exposing her clit. Her pussy was more mature-looking than Suji’s—womanly and full, with a thick patch of curly pubic hair.

His tongue found her clit, giving her the same treatment he’d given Suji. He felt both Suji and Britney between his legs now, taking turns wrapping their mouths around his throbbing cock.

Sofia rode his face with abandon, grinding against his tongue as she praised his technique. “This is the best head I’ve ever gotten,” she gasped, her accent thickening with arousal. “Fuck. Courtney’s lucky to have a boyfriend who knows how to give head like this.”

The praise made his cock pulse. Sofia reached down and gripped his hair tightly as her body tensed.

“I’m cumming,” she announced, her thighs trembling around his head.

Britney took Sofia’s place, but she positioned herself facing the opposite direction. Brad found himself with a perfect view of her tight, firm ass cheeks. Unable to resist, he reached up and spread them apart, revealing her cute puckered hole as he licked her pussy.

The combination of sensations—two mouths alternating on his cock and Britney’s perfect ass in his face—pushed him dangerously close to the edge.

“I think I’m gonna come,” he warned breathlessly.

Suddenly, all three girls were climbing off him and lining up side by side at the edge of the bed, leaning forward with their hands braced on the mattress.

“You can’t cum until you fuck all of us,” Sofia declared, looking back at him over her shoulder.

Brad didn’t need to be told twice. He positioned himself behind Suji first. As he pressed into her, she was every bit as tight as he’d imagined. Her small body seemed to grip him like a vice.

“Your pussy feels amazing wrapped around my cock,” he told her.

Suji came quickly, pushing back against him harder and harder until she reached her release with a sharp cry. She stood and turned to kiss him deeply, tasting herself and her friends on his lips.

Next, he lined up behind Britney. The view of her perfect ass nearly broke him entirely. As he entered her, Suji moved behind him, reaching around his chest to play with his nipples while he thrust.

Sofia knelt beside Britney, her hand moving between the blonde’s legs to stimulate her clit. Britney’s orgasm was explosive—her entire body shook as her pussy clenched around him. She came with a scream that she muffled against the comforter.

Finally, it was Sofia’s turn. As he mounted her, he leaned forward and cupped her heavy breasts in his hands, loving their weight and fullness. He squeezed them as he thrust harder than he had with the other two.

“Harder,” Sofia encouraged breathlessly. “Fill me up. I want all of you.”

“I’m about to cum,” he warned through gritted teeth.

“I’m going to cum again, too,” she gasped.

The knowledge that he was about to make her climax a second time drove him wild. He pounded into her with abandon until he exploded with a loud “Fuck yeah!” that echoed through the small dorm room.

They all collapsed onto the bed, sweaty and exhausted, but reality crashed back quickly.

“Courtney could be back any minute,” Britney panted, reaching for her clothes.

They dressed with remarkable speed for people who’d just had earth-shattering sex. As Brad pulled his shirt over his head, anxiety crept in.

“I’m sorry to ask this, but... you’re not going to tell Courtney about this, are you?”

The three girls exchanged glances, and Sofia spoke for them all. “This is our little secret. Now whenever she says something mean to us, or whenever she manipulates you, we can remember this moment.”

They finished packing their remaining items, and Brad offered to help carry their bags to the parking lot. They were loading the last suitcase into Britney’s Honda when they heard the distinctive purr of a luxury engine.

Courtney’s pristine white BMW X5 pulled into the lot, its chrome details gleaming even in the overcast afternoon light. She double-parked as usual and climbed out, her ice-blue eyes suspicious.

“I’m surprised you haven’t left already,” she said, approaching the group. Her tone carried that familiar edge of condescension. “It was so nice of Brad to help you with your bags. Isn’t he just the best?”

The three roommates began to giggle, exchanging meaningful looks. “Yes,” Sofia said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “He really is the best.”

Brad shot them a warning glance, silently pleading with them to stop giggling.

Courtney stepped up to him and gave him a quick, possessive kiss on the lips. Almost immediately, her perfectly plucked eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“Your lips taste funny,” she said, pulling back to study his face with those calculating eyes.

Brad’s face flushed bright red, and all three girls had to bite their lips to keep from laughing again.

“It must be something I ate,” he said.

THE END