It had been three weeks since we said our goodbyes off the cruise and back to reality. Still, I caught myself checking my phone, waiting for their names to light up the screen. I missed him. I missed that connection, the way it had swallowed me whole. I would never want to break up a family; the thought alone made me sick. It was wrong—morally, painfully wrong—yet I couldn’t shake him.
We used to talk about forever. About our plans. And the way he’d look into my eyes, like I was the only one in the world. The endless late-night messages, and never once did he forget—sweet dreams, my Brooke. Scott made me feel that can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of love. The kind that hits once in a lifetime—maybe twice, if you’re lucky.
And then there was her. Katie. I missed her too. The way her red curls pooled over her shoulders, the warmth in her touch. She was tender, maybe it was the mother in her, showing me what it meant to be with a woman. How to touch, how to please, how to quiet the noise in my head with nothing more than a kiss. I didn’t crave women, not really, but the fire smoldered for her. What else could she teach me? What boundaries could she make me cross?
Evenings are the hardest. That’s when the memories crawl back. She’s in his sheets, and I’m three sheets to the wind. Lying here, spinning like the ceiling fan above me, talking to the walls. Stuck on missing him again.
But the cruelest part, the part that burns, is knowing she’s probably waking up in his shirt. She’s turning him on while I just toss and turn. I’ve been losing sleep ever since she’s been sleeping with him.
*****
It got a little easier to let Scott fade into the background. I missed him dearly, but it wasn’t reciprocal. Eight months have blown by. I finished law school, spent the summer up at the cottage tubing and tanning with friends and family. Had a summer fling with John. He was building my neighbor’s cottage. God, he was sexy, always covered in sawdust with his hammer dangling from the back of his Carhartts. I never let it go too far, though more than once I almost gave in to the temptation. Neither of us was prepared to give more than what we could in that moment, and that was okay. It filled the void of missing Scott while keeping it light and fun.
I’m trying not to overthink the love department. Watching my friends start their new lives, I sometimes feel like I’m on borrowed time. Everyone keeps saying it’ll happen when it’s meant to.
Now it’s December, and I’m curled up in front of the fire with a glass of red wine. The snow outside, the glow of Christmas lights—it all feels like magic. And yet, this will be my last Christmas in Canada for a while. I’ve accepted a position with the San Bernardino County District Attorney’s Office—one of the largest in California. It falls under the 9th Circuit, and I know the criminal litigation work will keep me busy. Saying goodbye will be hard, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. Seventy degrees and sunny in January? Hard to imagine, but I’m ready for this next chapter.
I let myself drift into a daze about my new life in California, but no matter how hard I try to control the narrative, it creeps in. He’s there. With her. The thought of us in the same state, breathing the same air, makes my skin prickle — forbidden, electric, impossible to bury.
*****
Christmas with three boys — twelve, ten, and two, was chaos in the best way. Scott was working a ton of overtime, and I was holding the household together, but everything still felt good with us. The life we’ve built, the one I always dreamed of. He’s my provider, my protector, and somehow, even with the stress, I’m proud of how I keep up with his wild sex drive.
Last week he came home from work and barely made it through the door before grabbing me. I was still cooking dinner, hair a mess, apron tied crooked, but none of that mattered to him. The way his eyes devoured me in that uniform…God, it was enough to undo me. He pressed his hand to the back of my neck, kissed me like I hadn’t just seen him ten hours earlier, and then hoisted me onto the kitchen island. No hesitation, no patience, just that raw, burning need. I thought I’d want foreplay, but the way he looked at me, like he wasn’t going to wait another second, sent me straight over the edge. He finished inside me, then disappeared upstairs for a shower. When I heard that low moan, I knew round two had already started. My wild man.
And yet, even after all that, he’s still the softest father. Our two-year-old loves crawling into our bed, curling between us until Scott gently carries him back. He’ll sit in that room for however long it takes, singing until the little one drifts off. He has such an amazing voice. And when he finally slips back into bed beside me, he’s hard all over again.
That night, I took him in my mouth, tasting him, until he spilled over me, only to pull me closer, whispering he wasn’t done. He knows missionary is my favorite, but somehow he always makes it new—this time, my legs up on his shoulders, his body pressing me deep into the mattress until we both unraveled. After, we each checked our phones one last time—our nightly ritual—before collapsing into sleep, wrapped up in everything we’ve built together.
I can’t believe it’s already January 21st. Scott’s birthday is a month and a bit away and I want to do something really special for him. Brushing my hair at the vanity, I start brainstorming. He doesn’t drink. He’s been swamped with work. It has to be manageable with the kids. We haven’t been on a trip in ages.
When was our last trip?
The thought alone made my nipples tighten. The cruise. It was supposed to be our romantic escape—and God, was it ever. The risk Brooke took, showing up unannounced. The way we unraveled Scott with that threesome. I still feel that rush, remembering how empowered I was being her first. And fuck—the way she licked my clit. The scent of Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue hanging in the air, intoxicating us all.
Whatever happened to her?
We’d had such a connection those last few days of the cruise. Her little giggle, daring, always finding ways to turn Scott on, and then turning to me, sparking the same fire. My heart races just remembering.
Scott’s been dying to go snowboarding at Lake Tahoe. Could I invite her? Would he like that? Would she even want to? Would I…
I cut my own thoughts off. Fuck yes, I would. I miss her pretty little pussy. But this feels wildly offside. We haven’t mentioned her or a threesome since the cruise. I know he loved it. I just don’t know if surprising him is fair, or if it’s something we should decide together.
I brushed out the last of my red curls, cheeks flushed. My eyes flick to my phone on the vanity, then back to my reflection. Slowly, I open my jewelry box, pulling out the slip of paper she gave me on the last day.
Thank you for sharing… well, everything with me. 865-409-1021. Brooke. ♥
I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush as I type out a message and hit send. My heart leaps when the three little dots appear. Anticipation crashes through me, then vanishes as quickly as it came. No new messages.
Two days of silence. Two days of checking my phone every hour, convincing myself she wasn’t going to reply. Then—finally—her name lit up my screen.
Brooke: Hey Katie. I’m sorry it’s taken me a few days to respond. Your message… it hit me hard. Truth is, I spent months trying to shake you two. Him. Us.
My stomach flipped. She had been thinking about us. The excitement shot straight through me, my nipples tightening under the my bra. She’d be crazy to pass this up.
Me: I’m glad you did. I was nervous to reach out too. I haven’t even told Scott I messaged you. Or about Tahoe.
Three dots. Pause. Then—
Me: I just want to give him something unforgettable. When the idea of inviting you to Tahoe crossed my mind, nothing else felt right. The cruise was…God, the chemistry was insane. I’ve never seen him like that. Not even after his first threesome. He craves you. I crave you. If it’s too much, I’ll understand but I really hope you’ll consider it.
Brooke: Katie, you are gorgeous and dangerous all at once. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel everything you both felt. The nerves are catching up to me faster than I can type… but yes, I’d love to be part of his birthday surprise.
Brooke: He’s lucky, you know. To have you. I’d do anything to have that relationship.
Her words sent a shiver through me.
Me: You really are one of a kind, Brooke.
Brooke: Tahoe and me are perfect already, but… what about something to unwrap first? Something to get him throbbing before you even leave?
Me: I want to. I just don’t know how to top Tahoe.
Brooke: Why not strip it down. Do a boudoir shoot. Let him unwrap you photo by photo. Picture his cock straining while he flips through them. He’ll lose his mind.
My breath caught. Fuck. Brooke always knew how to twist the knife and make me ache. Like at the restaurant when she took my finger and slid it inside of her just to beat me at my own game.
Me: That’s… dangerously hot. He wouldn’t make it through two pictures before ripping my clothes off. I’m wet just imagining it.
Brooke: Then do it. Own it. He’ll thank you with every inch of him. And maybe you’ll send me one…
My pulse hammered in my throat. The sparks weren’t just back—they were wildfire.
I finally put my phone down after what felt like hours of nonstop texting. How long had I been sitting here, lost in her words? My heart still thudded against my ribs. She’s here now. Not just in my phone, not across the border, not a fantasy I replay in my head. She’s living in California—forty minutes from us.
I asked if she’d meet me at the photo studio. God, I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never done anything like this before, and the thought of posing, of putting myself out there, has my stomach in knots. But there’s something about Brooke—her ease, her confidence—that makes me believe she’ll strip the nerves away. Funny how the roles have reversed since the last time we were together.
And then I saw her.
She’s the cutest thing ever, and suddenly I understand all over again how Scott melted into her. It’s the middle of winter, but she looks like she just stepped off a plane from the Bahamas, light jeans hugging her hips, a plain white t-shirt that clings just enough, strappy sandals on her feet. Simple. Effortless.
She spots me and breaks into a grin, running toward me. My eyes betray me—I can’t stop watching her breasts bounce under that shirt, the faint outline of a bralette teasing through the thin fabric. I know I shouldn’t stare. But I can’t look away.
The studio lights were blinding. Warm, white-hot beams spilled across my skin, exposing everything, leaving me nowhere to hide. I shifted in the silk robe they’d given me, my heart pounding harder with every click of the camera. I was supposed to be sultry. Supposed to be the fantasy my man couldn’t resist. Instead, I felt stiff, awkward, small. Too many eyes on me.
Brooke must have seen it—the tension in my shoulders, the way my lips pressed into a nervous line. She stood up from her chair like she owned the room, sauntered over to the speaker, and pressed play. The low, slow rhythm of music wrapped around me, and then she was in front of me. Her hands slipped into mine, cool and steady, grounding me.
Her voice dropped into a rasp, almost a whisper. “You are beautiful. Don’t let your man forget it.”
And then she kissed me. Soft, slow, unhurried, strawberry-sweet. My lips melted into hers as if they’d been waiting all these months for the taste. When she pulled back, she gave me a playful spank and a wink before turning on her heel, hips swaying, leaving me breathless.
It was everything I needed. The tension broke, replaced by fire. I let the robe slip, the satin brushing down my shoulders, and suddenly the camera didn’t feel so intimidating anymore.
We huddled together in front of the screen, scrolling through shot after shot. There were dozens I could have chosen—me stretched across the velvet chaise in black lace, arching my back, eyes closed, mouth parted like I was mid-surrender. Exotic, powerful, almost otherworldly.
But my favorite…
My finger froze on the image of us. Brooke was walking away from me, her body captured mid-stride, head turned over her shoulder with that devilish smirk tugging her lips. Her eyes locked on mine, while my own gaze followed her, hungry, desperate, as though the lens had captured the exact surge that ripped through me when she spanked me. Our arms reached out, fingertips just shy of touching, like the photo itself was holding its breath.
The images on the screen were beautiful, but I couldn’t stop staring at Brooke. She wasn’t the same girl from the cruise — shy, nervous, unsure of herself. That had been her first time with a woman, her first taste of something forbidden. I’d guided her then showed her how to touch, how to kiss, how to give in.
But now? Now she moved with the kind of confidence that made my breath catch. It was like watching a flame I’d sparked grow into a wildfire.
“Brooke,” I whispered, surprising myself. “Would you… take some with me? Naked. For him.”
Her lips curled into that playful smirk I remembered so well, but her eyes held something new — certainty. She didn’t hesitate. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She peeled her T-shirt off like it was nothing, the bralette slipping away next, leaving her skin glowing under the hot studio lights. She stood tall, unashamed, her body lean and alive, shoulders back like she owned every eye in the room. My stomach fluttered. This was the same woman I’d kissed who had trembled under my hands… but now she was the one pulling me forward.
She reached for me, fingers trailing down my arm, slow and deliberate. “You made me this way,” she murmured, voice husky. “You showed me how. Let’s remind him together.”
The photographer raised the camera, and Brooke pulled me close until our skin pressed, soft against soft, heat sparking between us. Click. Flash.
Another pose — me arching back on the velvet chaise, her straddling my hips, hair tumbling forward to brush my breasts as her mouth hovered over mine. Click. Flash.
I could feel my pulse in every nerve. She knew it too, her fingers squeezing mine between shots, grounding me, daring me.
The images weren’t just photos. They were secrets caught in the light — her lips hovering over mine, her thigh pressed between my legs, the soft gasp I hadn’t even realized escaped me. They were also evidence — proof of how badly we wanted it, of how much I still wanted her, and of just how little the camera could hide.
*****
We had a small party at home for Scott. The kids made him cards — not the most artistic bunch, but he loved them like they were masterpieces. We ordered burgers from our favorite spot, the simple kind of night that was ours. Perfect. Tomorrow we were heading to Tahoe for a weekend to remember, and butterflies jolted through me every time I thought about it.
We don’t keep secrets. But this one—I kept just for him.
Once the kids were asleep, I told him I had a surprise waiting upstairs. While he was at work, I’d had the photos hung. Not tucked away, not hidden. On our walls. Risqué, yes, but fuck it. They were beautiful. I was beautiful. They belonged there.
I slipped a blindfold over his eyes, led him to the bedroom, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Happy birthday, baby,” I whispered, before untying the knot.
His eyes darted across the room. The hitch of his breath gave him away. He dragged his fingers through his hair, chest rising and falling faster as he took it in.
I leaned against the doorframe, watching him soak it up. His lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. And then he came to me.
His mouth crashed against mine, hot, urgent, like he couldn’t hold back another second.
*****
We got to the resort and to our room. Brooke offered to coordinate everything — I should have known it would be over the top. The suite was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched wide, framing the mountains still dusted in snow.
We planned the night out. Scott and I would have dinner at the restaurant downstairs, then head back to the room for his second birthday surprise.
On the walk back up, butterflies fluttered through me. “I have another surprise for you,” I teased, watching his grin spread as we reached the door.
Candles illuminated the room, their glow mirrored in the windows like a thousand tiny flames dancing over the snow outside. It felt like a fairy tale. On the coffee table sat a present, carefully wrapped and waiting. I nudged him toward it. “Open it.”
He tore into the paper, lifted the frame — and froze. His eyes narrowed, flicking from the photo, to me, back to the photo, like he was trying to process what he was seeing.
It was Brooke and I.
I was perched on a vanity in black lace, lips parted, eyes glazed with want. Brooke stood behind me, topless, arms wrapped tight around my waist, one hand resting just above the lace between my thighs. The gilded mirror behind us had caught it all — my mouth open in a silent gasp, her eyes locked on the lens with that wicked, daring smirk.
He froze, every muscle drawn tight, his lips parting on a breath that never quite came.
“Go into the bedroom, baby,” I whispered against his lips.
His eyes flicked over mine, wide, unsteady, then back to the photo still clutched in his hand. He set it down carefully on the table, like it was too precious to drop, and obeyed. His footsteps were slow, heavy with wonder, carrying him toward the bedroom glowing faintly with more candles.
I followed, heart pounding. He stood there in the doorway, silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the mountains beyond washed in moonlight and snow. He looked both awestruck and undone, as if he didn’t know whether to thank me or devour me.
“Happy birthday,” I murmured again, brushing my fingers over the back of his neck.
He turned, mouth already seeking mine, but before he could speak, a soft creak of the floorboards drew his attention deeper into the room.
And then he saw her.
Sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed, a giant red satin bow tied across her chest, covering her breasts but leaving the soft curves of skin spilling around it. The tails of the ribbon trailed down her stomach, barely brushing the tops of her thighs.
Brooke. My Brooke.
*****
Her lips curved into that wicked smirk, the same one that ruined me the night I first had her. My chest seized, breath stalling like I’d been punched. Eight months of silence. Eight months of lying beside my wife with Brooke’s voice still echoing in my head. And now here she was, wrapped in red satin, waiting for me.
Every ounce of discipline I’d built shattered in a heartbeat. I loved Katie — God, I loved her. She was my anchor, the mother of my children, the woman who held my life together. But Brooke… Brooke was the storm that ripped me open. With her, I felt things I didn’t even know a man could feel. I wanted to claim her, give her my last name, fill her with my child. An eternity with her wouldn’t have been long enough, even knowing I could never walk away from the life I’d built. The conflict tore me apart, but the truth was undeniable: she was the deepest, most dangerous desire I’d ever known.
The sight of her made my cock throb painfully against my zipper, heat rolling through me so fast it left me dizzy. I should have asked how, why, when — but words were useless now. All I could do was move toward her, like gravity itself had shifted and she was the only thing pulling me forward.
She rose slowly from the bed, the satin bow loosening just enough to tease, her eyes never leaving mine. My pulse roared in my ears. I should’ve stopped. I should’ve looked back at Katie. But every ounce of restraint I had left shattered the second Brooke stepped closer.
Her scent hit me first — sweet, warm, maddeningly familiar and then my hands were on her waist, pulling her into me like I could fuse us together. The bow’s ribbon brushed against my knuckles as I crushed my mouth to hers.
The kiss was fire and forgiveness all at once — months of silence and longing combusting in one desperate collision. Her lips parted under mine, soft and yielding, and I groaned against her mouth, drinking her in like I’d been dying of thirst. She tasted the same, and yet somehow more certain, more dangerous, more mine.
I deepened the kiss, sliding a hand into her hair, holding her like I’d never let go again. She clutched at my olive green shirt, tugging me closer, and the world tilted. Katie, the room, the candles — they blurred to nothing. There was only Brooke, and the truth I could never bury: I needed her like I needed air.
I tore my mouth from hers just long enough to drag in a ragged breath, but she leaned up, her lips brushing my ear, her voice so low only I could hear.
Her lips trailed from my mouth to my ear, her breath hot enough to burn.
“Scott,” she whispered, low and certain, every syllable a stroke down my spine. “I missed you. I waited - saved myself for you. It’s only ever been you.”
The confession ripped through me. My knees nearly gave, my cock straining so hard it hurt. I wanted to lift her, carry her to the bed, bury myself inside her until the world disappeared.
But before I could move, Brooke caught my hands in hers, her fingers cool against my fevered skin. With a sly grin, she stepped back, the satin bow shifting with her, and spun in a slow, deliberate twirl. The tails of the ribbon skimmed her thighs as she came full circle, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
She looked past me, over my shoulder, to where Katie stood in the doorway. Her smirk deepened, eyes glinting like sin. “Your wife made this happen for you,” she said, voice low and edged with promise. “Don’t you want to unwrap your birthday gift…with her?”
*****
Brooke’s words lingered in the air, and I saw the way they struck him — like lightning straight to his chest. Scott’s whole body shifted, tense and hungry, his eyes locked on her with a need so raw it made my knees weaken. For a moment, it was like the world narrowed to just the two of them, a charge crackling so strong I could almost feel it in my own skin.
And God help me — it turned me on.
Seeing Brooke undo him that way, watching the control I’d seen him hold so tight just fall to pieces in front of her… it lit a fire in me. Because she did the same to me. Her smile, her confidence, the way she carried herself — it was different from Scott, but just as powerful. She made me feel desired, reckless, alive.
I didn’t feel threatened. I felt chosen. By both of them.
Brooke’s eyes flicked to mine, heat sparking, and in that look I felt it — this wasn’t Scott’s gift alone. It was ours.
I stepped closer. Scott’s hand slid to my waist, grounding me, keeping me flush against his side as though he needed me right there. Brooke reached for me, her fingers grazing my arm before she leaned in. Her kiss was softer than his, slower, but just as consuming. My lips tingled, my chest tight, every nerve alive as her mouth moved with mine.
When I drew back, breathless, Scott’s stare burned through me — raw, hungry, undone. Brooke smiled knowingly, her hand slipping lower until it toyed with the hem of my dress.
“Let’s show him,” she whispered, lifting the fabric.
The dress slid higher, and the outfit Brooke had chosen for me came into view — sheer black tulle that clung like smoke. Two garters circled my thighs, a banded piece draped over my hips giving the illusion of shorts without a stitch of fabric, and a bra of the same gauzy tulle, the elastic framing my breasts while leaving nothing hidden.
Scott’s eyes widened. His jaw tightened, chest rising fast, and I could see it in his face — he loved it, every inch, every detail Brooke had chosen.
“Help me with him,” Brooke murmured, and I dropped to my knees. My nails skimmed his waist as I tugged his pants and briefs down, leaving a trail of kisses and licks across his thighs. Above me, Brooke worked his shirt open one button at a time, never breaking his stare. When she reached his chest, her nails flicked over his nipples, and the sharp hitch of his breath told me this was new. She leaned in, lips closing around one, sucking and biting until he groaned, the sound low and undone.
Brooke slipped his shirt from his shoulders and let it fall. Then, with a firm push to his chest, she urged him backward. Scott went without resistance, falling onto the bed, arms stretching wide against the sheets. His chest rose hard, eyes blazing as he looked up at us.
We crawled over him, our mouths colliding in a hungry kiss above his cock. Heat radiated off his body, the thick length of him straining between us. Our tongues tangled, then drifted lower, tracing down either side of his shaft before gliding back up, meeting again in a brush of lips that left him groaning beneath us.
His cock twitched between us, slick from our tongues, and I wrapped my fist around the base, stroking him as Brooke leaned in to swirl her tongue over the head. A drop of precum spilled free, and I caught it on my tongue before pulling her into another kiss, the taste of him wet between us. She moaned against my mouth, then bent lower, sucking the tip with slow, sloppy pulls while I licked along the underside, teasing that thick vein until Scott’s hips bucked helplessly off the bed.
I worked him deeper into my throat, spit slicking his cock as Brooke licked alongside me. Then, without warning, she shifted, sliding behind me on all fours. Her hands gripped my hips, tugging me back, and before I could catch my breath her tongue was on me, hot and relentless, lapping through the wet heat between my thighs.
The shock of it ripped a moan from my chest, muffled around Scott’s cock. I gagged slightly as he hit the back of my throat, my body trembling while Brooke’s mouth worked me from behind. His groan deepened at the sight, his cock twitching hard against my tongue. I didn’t need to look up to know what pushed him over — the view of his wife choking on him while Brooke’s tongue was buried in her pussy.
His release hit me in a hot flood, pulse after pulse spilling across my tongue as Brooke moaned into me, her hands holding me open for more. The sound of him unraveling, the taste of him thick in my mouth, and the sensation of her tongue working me all at once left me shaking, undone, and aching for the next wave.
Brooke didn’t let up even as Scott spilled across my tongue. She pulled me back, urging me onto the bed, her body following until we were tangled in a slow, hungry sprawl. A wicked grin flickered across her lips as she climbed over me, straddling my chest, lowering herself down until the wet heat of her pussy hovered just above my mouth.
I opened eagerly, tongue darting out to taste her as she bent forward, her own mouth finding me again. The world blurred into heat and wetness — her tongue driving me wild while I licked and sucked at her clit, the two of us locked in a messy, breathless rhythm.
From the corner of my eye I saw him. Scott sat back against the headboard, chest heaving, cock already hard again, his fist stroking slow and steady as he watched us. His eyes burned with hunger, following every lap of Brooke’s tongue, every gasp that left my throat, every slick drag of my mouth over her clit. He was waiting, building himself up, saving it until he was ready to take me … until he was ready to fuck me with Brooke’s taste still on my lips.
Brooke ground down on my mouth, slick dripping over my lips and chin as her tongue shoved deep inside me. I moaned into her soft pussy, the sound muffled and filthy, just as Scott’s cock slammed all the way into me, stretching me wide.
The force of his thrusts drove me harder against Brooke, my tongue lapping messily at her clit while she rode my face. Spit and pussy juice smeared across my cheeks, my own arousal spilling down my thighs as Scott fucked me rougher, his balls slapping against me with every stroke.
I tried to breathe but there was nowhere to go — Brooke’s thighs clamped around my head, Scott’s cock pounding me from behind — I was smothered, used, drowning in both of them, and I fucking loved it. Brooke’s cries vibrated through my lips as I sucked her harder, desperate to make her cum while Scott growled my name, hips snapping faster, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to ruin me or watch me choke on Brooke’s pussy forever.
Brooke’s cry hit first — high and sharp — her pussy pulsing against my mouth as she came, soaking my tongue. The taste of her set me off as my own orgasm went ripping through me.
I was shaking, still pinned between them, drenched in sweat and spit and cum, my body wrecked and alive. Brooke collapsed forward, panting against my stomach, while Scott stayed buried inside me, chest heaving, his cock twitching as the last pulse of release emptied into me.
Brooke swung a leg over me, settling into a reverse straddle until her slick heat hovered just above my lips. She glanced back over her shoulder, her hair tumbling wild, eyes smoldering as her voice dropped low.
“Katie,” she whispered, breath hitching, “I want to feel your tongue in my ass.”
Heat rushed through me, and I spread her cheeks without hesitation, pressing my tongue against the tight ring of muscle. Her gasp was instant, her spine arching high, breasts thrusting toward Scott. Still buried deep inside me, he groaned at the sight, his mouth closing over one of her perfect nipples, sucking hard until she cried out, the sound vibrating down into me.
“Fuck, Brooke,” Scott rasped against her skin, his voice broken with lust. “I love your tits… perfect little nipples begging to be sucked.” His words made her shudder, her back arching higher, pressing deeper into both of us.
Her whole body pulsed, and I slid a hand between her thighs, rubbing her clit hard and fast while my tongue pressed deep in her ass. Brooke screamed, her back arching high, nipples straining against Scott’s mouth as she came, soaking my chin and fingers.
The sight of her unraveling wrecked me, combined with Scotts dick pounding into me. It send another orgasm tearing through me as I moaned into her. Scott groaned above us, hips jerking, ready to give in. I dragged my lips across Brooke’s skin, breathless, and gasped, “Cum on her, baby—cover her for me.”
He pulled out with a growl, stroking himself hard, and his release hit her in a hot flood. Thick ropes splattered across her tits, streaking over her tiny nipples and trailing down her stomach until it dripped between her thighs, mixing with the mess of her orgasm. Brooke moaned, her body trembling as she smeared it over her breasts, glistening and wrecked beneath us both.
We fell apart together, a tangle of sweat and shaking limbs. Brooke collapsed against my chest, her skin slick, her nipples still stiff and glistening with Scott’s release. I pressed soft kisses over her breasts, licking away the streaks of cum, the salty taste of him and the sweetness of her mixing on my tongue.
Scott leaned over, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss while I trailed my lips lower, cleaning every drop until Brooke whimpered from the tenderness. My body was exhausted, every nerve fried, but the warmth of them beside me kept me floating.
Eventually, I groaned and flopped back into the pillows. “I can’t,” I laughed softly. “I need sleep.”
Brooke’s fingers brushed my cheek as she slipped off the bed. “I’m going to shower,” she murmured, her curls falling loose around her shoulders as she walked towards the bathroom.
I felt the shift in Scott’s chest beside me — heat sparking under his skin. Before I drifted off, I caught his jaw, pulling him into a slow, desperate kiss. My lips lingered against his, my voice husky as I whispered, “Go follow her. Make her cum like you were fucking me. I know you’ve got a crush on her, baby — it’s okay. I do too. Go make love to her.”
His eyes darkened, torn between me and the thought of her under the hot water. I gave him a lazy smile, then let my eyes flutter shut, sinking into the mattress while he rose, every step toward the bathroom thick with hunger.
*****
Katie’s kiss still lingered on my lips as I stepped into the bathroom. Steam curled in the air, the hiss of the water masking the pounding of my heart.
Brooke was already under the spray, her head tilted back, rivulets sliding over her breasts, tracing the curve of her stomach, glistening between her thighs. She turned when she heard me, and the look in her eyes nearly brought me to my knees.
“Scott,” she breathed, like my name itself was a confession.
I crossed the space in two steps, pulling her into me, the water beating down as my mouth crashed against hers. She melted instantly, lips parting, her tongue stroking mine like we’d been starving for this. My hands slid down her slick body, gripping her ass, hauling her against me until my cock pressed hot and hard between her thighs.
“God, Brooke,” I groaned into her mouth. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
She smiled against my lips, then turned in my arms, bracing her palms against the tile, water cascading over her back. She arched, pushing her ass into me, and looked back with that wicked little smirk. “Then show me.”
I pressed into her, sliding through her slick folds until I hit the back of her pussy. Her cry echoed off the tile, raw and beautiful, and I set a brutal rhythm, pounding into her while the water sliced down our bodies. Her back arched higher, her perfect tits bouncing with every thrust, her tiny nipples tight and begging to be sucked. I leaned forward, grabbing one handful of wet curls, dragging her head back so I could bite her shoulder and groan against her ear.
“You’re mine, Brooke,” I rasped, slamming into her harder, water splashing everywhere. “Even if I can’t have you the way I want — you’ll always be mine.”
Her answering moan nearly undid me, her body clenching around my cock as she cried out, trembling under the water. I couldn’t hold back, my release ripped through me, spilling hot and thick inside her as I growled her name.
The steam wrapped around us, water pounding down as I spilled inside her, my forehead pressed to her shoulder. But even as the shudders faded, I couldn’t let go. Not of her.
I slid out, catching her when her legs buckled, her wet skin trembling under my hands. She looked up at me, water dripping from her lashes, lips parted like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. My chest ached at the sight. I kissed her instead, slow and deep, tasting the heat of her mouth as though I’d never get enough.
Without breaking the kiss, I lifted her into my arms. She gasped, clinging to my neck as I carried her out of the bathroom, through the glow of the suite, until we reached the couch that faced the floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond the glass, the mountains stretched into the night, snow drifting softly under the moonlight. I laid her down gently, her curls spilling over the cushions, her body glistening in the dim light.
For a moment I couldn’t move. My chest ached just looking at her — like everything I’d ever wanted but never dared to hope for was right there in front of me. Dropping to my knees, I framed her face in my hands.
“Brooke,” I whispered, my voice raw, “it wasn’t just the cruise. I’ve wanted you since the very first message. The way you opened yourself to me… the things we shared before we ever touched… it was more intimate than anything I’ve ever known. I’d lie awake at night thinking about you, aching for you, not just your body but your mind, your heart. You’ve been under my skin from the start.”
Her eyes glistened, lips parting like she might speak, but I couldn’t stop. “And tonight, with Katie’s blessing, I don’t have to hide it anymore. I don’t have to feel guilt, or shame, or like I’m sneaking pieces of you in the dark. I can finally love you — the way I’ve dreamed of since the day you first lit up my phone.”
She let out a soft, broken sound, her hands clutching at my shoulders as I leaned down to kiss her — slow, reverent, desperate — like I was finally giving her every word I hadn’t been able to say.
She kissed me back like she was drowning, and when I pulled away, I saw it — a tear slipping down her cheek. My chest cracked wide open.
“Scott…” Her voice trembled. “I’m so proud of the man you are. The way you love your wife, your boys — your devotion to them. That’s who you are, and I could never take it from you.” Her hands framed my face, her touch soft but sure. “But I’m in way over my head. I can’t picture a life with anyone else, even knowing you can’t be mine.”
The words gutted me, but then she smiled through the tears, broken and radiant all at once. “I’ve longed for this moment for so long. The sleepless nights without you, aching for you beside me… and now you’re here.”
I kissed her again, harder this time, guiding myself into her with one slow, steady thrust. She gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders as I filled her, heat and tightness wrapping around me like she was made for me. I moved gently at first, savoring the way her body welcomed me, then deeper, our rhythm building until her moans filled the quiet suite. Every stroke was slow but hungry, my lips never leaving hers, both of us clinging to the moment we’d dreamed about for so long.
“Scott,” she whispered, her voice cracking with need, “don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” I groaned, my forehead pressed to hers, my hips driving harder. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you my Brooke.”
Her cry split the air, her body seizing around me as her orgasm tore through her. The feel of it dragged me over the edge with her — my release pouring into her as I filled her with every drop of my semen while groaning her name like a prayer.
We stayed tangled, trembling, our bodies shaking together as the snow fell quietly beyond the glass. For the first time, there was no hiding, no guilt — just the two of us, finally giving in.
When it was over, Brooke slumped against me, her body trembling, her head heavy on my shoulder. The steam still clung to her skin, her breath warm against my neck. She was exhausted — I could feel it in the way she melted into me, spent and quiet.
I gathered her into my arms, lifting her easily. She didn’t protest, just sighed, curling into my chest as I carried her out of the living room. The suite was hushed, candles burned low, the glow of the mountains spilling through the wide windows.
Katie stirred as I laid Brooke gently beside her, sliding in on the other side. Brooke draped an arm across my chest, her curls damp against my skin. Katie’s hand found mine in the dark, her fingers lacing with mine even in her sleep.
For a moment I held them both, my heart caught in my throat, knowing I’d never forget this night. Brooke’s lips brushed my chest as she whispered, barely audible, “Happy birthday, Scott.”
I kissed the top of her head, my throat tight, and let my eyes close. Wrapped in both of them, I finally surrendered to sleep.
