The heat hit harder out here.

Ryan had expected cool breezes and pine-scented air—what everyone imagined when they thought of the San Juan Islands. But this? This was a dry, baked kind of heat. The sun was unrelenting. His shirt stuck to his back before he even reached the front door.

The house looked exactly like the photos Claudia had shown him—only more impossible. Like someone had carved it from stone and glass right into the cliffs. Sleek lines, oversized windows, wide decks that floated over the sea. The pool shimmered just beyond the cedar planks, its edge spilling off into the bright blue horizon. A single sailboat drifted lazily far below.

Inside, it was still. Cool concrete floors. Shadows stretching long from tall windows. The key turned smoothly in the lock.

Finally, peace.

Or so he thought.

Laughter floated in from outside—light, female, unguarded. It wasn’t the polite kind. It was the kind that came from wine and sun and the absence of expectation.

He stepped onto the pool deck and paused.

Two women lounged on matching teak chairs, their bronzed bodies nearly glowing under the afternoon sun. A bottle of rosé sweated between them, half-finished. The scent of sunscreen, salt, and something floral hung in the air.

The one on the left wore a black triangle bikini, classic and minimal. The bottoms barely there. Breasts nearly exposed. Her skin was a golden olive tone—clearly Mediterranean. She had long, dark hair, still damp, twisted loosely over one shoulder. Her green eyes locked on him over the rim of gold-rimmed sunglasses. Legs crossed. Posture deliberate. Every inch of her said: I know you're looking.

The other was softer, in contrast—sun-bleached blond hair long and flowing, a faded printed wrap slung low on her hips, barely tied. Her bikini was a muted swirl of earthy pastels—like the ocean at dusk. Straps askew. Her long legs stretched toward the sun. Anklets. A simple shell necklace. Her blue eyes peeked out from behind round, vintage-style lenses.

They looked like they had stepped out of two different fantasies.

The dark-haired one sat up slightly, slid her sunglasses down, and looked him over without flinching.

"You must be Ryan," she said, her voice cool and dry, like chilled wine on a hot stone. "My mother didn’t mention when you’d be arriving."

He took her in for a beat. Confident tone. Eyes sharp. Lips glossy but unsmiling. She looked like she was used to being looked at—and knew exactly what kind of effect she had.

“Bella,” he said. “I figured that was you.”

She nodded, a slow, amused smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. “And this is Anna.”

Anna lifted a hand in a lazy wave, her mouth curving into something looser, freer.

“You look exactly like someone who works for Claudia,” she said. Her voice was light and teasing.

“Guilty,” he said, unbothered. “Didn’t realize I’d be sharing the place.”

Bella tilted her head just slightly, assessing.

“Neither did we, until my mom called,” she said. “But it’s a big house.”

Anna smiled, slow and knowing, shifting her body just enough for her wrap to slip higher up her thigh, smooth tan legs even more exposed.

“Unless you want company,” she said.

Ryan let that hang. He didn’t smile. Just looked at them—really looked.

The sweat on Bella’s collarbone. The soft rise of her chest beneath that wet, clinging top. Anna’s toned legs, the way her bikini had faded from salt and sun. Both of them tan, lean, fit in that way women get from yoga and running, not the gym. Their nails were painted; bright pink. Perfectly matching. Details that didn’t feel accidental.

He gave them a long, unreadable look.

“We’ll see,” he said.

Then turned and walked inside, the door sliding shut behind him like punctuation.

Ryan took his time unpacking.

The guest bedroom was minimalist and flooded with late-afternoon light. Polished concrete floors, crisp white linens, a perfect view of the water from every angle. He tossed his duffel on the bed, peeled off his damp shirt, and ran a hand through his hair. The house was quiet, but the girls’ laughter still echoed faintly through the open windows, like a memory that hadn’t left yet.

He changed into a pair of dark swim trunks, the kind that sat low on his hips, tailored and understated. He grabbed his sunglasses and a cold bottle of water from the fridge, then stepped back out onto the deck.

The light had shifted.

Golden now, poured like honey across the planks, the pool surface shimmering like molten glass. Music played softly from hidden speakers—something with a slow beat and lazy French vocals.

Bella and Anna were still on the loungers, but they'd moved. Now sitting up, side by side, their legs stretched out toward the pool, wine glasses in hand.

Bella glanced over first. Her eyes flicked down his torso and back up behind dark lashes. No smile, just appraisal. Her black bikini top clung tight, the thin straps catching fire in the golden light. The matching bottoms were cut dangerously narrow, sharp angles high on her hips, leaving long lengths of golden skin exposed. Every move she made felt designed to be watched.

Anna followed suit, removing her wrap entirely now and tying it around the back of her chair. Her bikini was a faded swirl of sun-washed pinks and blues, the bottoms cheeky and small, barely covering anything. Her legs stretched languidly, one ankle hooked over the other. Her bare stomach was taut and flat, pierced subtly at the navel, skin flushed from the heat.

“Back from the cave,” Anna teased, shading her eyes with one hand. “We were starting to think you were scared.”

Ryan took a long drink of water, his sunglasses hiding the way his gaze swept over both of them in turn.

“Just pacing myself,” he said. “Didn’t want to interrupt whatever... vibe this is.”

Bella set her wine down and stood, stretching in one smooth motion. Her arms rose above her head, ribs visible beneath taut, sun-kissed skin. Her bikini bottom rode even higher as she shifted. Nothing about her was shy.

“Too late for that,” she said, stepping toward the pool. Her perfect ass framed by her thong bottoms, the string fading into her cracks.

Anna stood too, slower, with a lazy grin. She bent to dip a toe in, her back arching slightly, her hips cocked. Her blonde hair had fallen free from the bun, loose tendrils catching the light.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “You should come cool off.”

Ryan arched a brow behind his shades, letting his silence answer for him. He walked forward and set his water on the table, the deck boards warm beneath his bare feet. As he neared the pool’s edge, both women slipped in together—Bella diving cleanly, slicing through the water like she belonged there, Anna lowering herself slowly, arching backward, letting her body disappear beneath the surface like silk.

They emerged on the far side of the pool, elbows hooked along the edge, both hair slicked back, bodies gleaming, mouths open in laughter.

Bella’s green eyes caught his again. “What are you waiting for?”

Ryan paused only long enough to remove his sunglasses and set them beside his glass. Then he stepped to the edge and dove in.

The water closed around him, hot skin meeting perfect relief.

He surfaced between them.

Neither woman moved away.

Ryan shook the water from his face and turned—Bella and Anna both watching him.

Bella leaned back on the ledge, elbows wide, her dark hair slicked flat, neck arched, water running down her chest between her breasts, green eyes half-lidded.

Anna floated nearby, arms wide, hair fanning in the water. Her skin shimmered in the low sun, droplets catching on the curve of her chest. Her bikini had darkened a shade, clinging tightly. Barely there before, it now looked like it had been painted on.

“You swim like someone who doesn’t want to make waves,” Bella said, lazily.

Ryan swam closer, slow and even, stopping just far enough to leave space between them.

“I don’t like to announce my moves,” he said.

Anna gave a small laugh. “You definitely announce other things.”

He smirked. “Like what?”

She tilted her head. “Like the fact that you’re trying very hard not to look right here.” Her hand dipped beneath the surface, motioning to the line of her waist.

He didn’t take the bait. “Why would I pretend not to look?”

Bella’s lips curved. “Maybe because you're still deciding who you want to look at more.”

Ryan didn’t respond. Just let his gaze drift from one to the other. They were both lean and lithe, young but composed, their bodies toned from movement—pilates, yoga, long runs on soft sand. They moved with that quiet confidence that came from knowing exactly how they looked—and how often people looked.

Anna drifted closer to Bella, just enough that their arms touched.

“I think he’s trying to be good,” she said, voice low.

Bella hummed. “That’s boring.”

Ryan floated around and leaned back against the opposite edge of the pool, arms spread across the lip of the concrete. “Maybe I’m just patient.”

Anna floated toward him, closing the distance. She stopped just in front of his knees, looking up through thick lashes. The sun caught the curve of her lips, the high points of her cheekbones.

“Maybe we want a little less patience,” she said.

Bella followed, silent, smooth through the water. She surfaced beside him, her shoulder brushing his, skin slick and warm.

Ryan turned slightly, took both of them in. “Then maybe we get out of the pool.”

Bella raised an eyebrow. “You asking us to towel off?”

“No,” he said, pushing away from the wall. “I’m asking if you’re ready for more wine.”

They emerged from the water in slow, deliberate turns—bodies gleaming in the dying light, droplets tracing long paths down skin and fabric. Ryan climbed out first, water running down the planes of his chest, clinging to the line of his abs before soaking into the waistband of his trunks. He didn’t dry off. Just ran a hand through his hair and kept walking.

Behind him, Anna pulled herself up onto the deck, water sluicing from her thighs. Her bikini bottoms, cut high and thin, revealed more than they covered—now plastered to her skin, barely opaque in the sun. Her top was crooked, and she didn’t fix it.

Bella came last, slow and smooth, rising from the pool like she had all the time in the world. Her black bikini was soaked, molded to every line of her body. Her legs glistened as she walked, the sway of her hips unbothered by the fact that Ryan’s eyes were on her now, and staying there.

No one grabbed a towel.

Inside, the house felt cooler, dimmer, shadows stretching long against the glass walls. Ryan opened a second bottle of wine, droplets still running down his spine. Bella leaned against the counter, arms crossed under her chest, water trailing in slow rivulets down her stomach. Anna reached into the fridge, bending slightly, her bikini bottom tugging with the movement.

Ryan poured three glasses, then passed them out without a word.

Outside, the sun was slipping lower.

Inside, no one seemed interested in drying off.

Bella took a sip and met his eyes.

“So,” she said, voice smooth as the wine, “are we still pretending this is casual?”

Bella leaned back against the kitchen island, wine glass in hand. Her black bikini top clung tightly, still soaked, the fabric sheer at the edges, the bumps of her nipples visible. Droplets rolled slowly down her sternum, disappearing beneath the band. Her legs were bare, long and golden, crossed casually at the ankle.

Anna perched on the counter beside her, one foot tucked beneath the other, hair still damp, blonde curls wild and loose now. Her pastel bikini had faded more in the light, now almost translucent. She didn’t bother adjusting it.

Ryan stood across from them, arms relaxed at his sides, wine in one hand. His swim trunks were wet and clinging, highlighting the sharp lines of his hips, the outline of his cock. His body was all calm surface, but his eyes were giving him away—the way they kept drifting, the way he hadn’t looked away since they walked in.

Bella took a sip and held his gaze over the rim of her glass.

“So,” she said. “Still pacing yourself?”

Ryan’s mouth curved. “Trying to. You two aren’t making it easy.”

Anna stretched, catlike, her top shifting slightly, breasts spilling out. She noticed. Didn’t fix it.

“Do we seem like the kind of girls who need... pacing?” she asked, smiling around her glass.

Ryan took a step closer, slow, deliberate.

“You seem like the kind of girls who don’t hear ‘no’ very often.”

Bella’s lips twitched. “Do you say it often?”

“No,” he said. “But I know when I should.”

Anna laughed softly. “And yet... here you are.”

“I’m still deciding,” he said. “Which one of you is the bigger problem?”

Bella pushed off the counter and crossed the space between them. She moved like water, smooth and certain. She stopped just in front of him, chest nearly brushing his.

Her voice dropped. “What if we’re not a problem?”

He didn’t move back. “Then what are you?”

Anna slid down from the counter, circling behind him now, her fingertips grazing the back of his arm as she passed.

Bella tilted her head. “Temptation?”

Anna’s voice was softer, from behind. “Distraction.”

Bella stepped in closer. “A very, very good mistake.”

Ryan’s glass was still in his hand, but he hadn’t tasted the wine in minutes. He looked at Bella, then over his shoulder at Anna. They stood just off his shoulders now, circling, testing, pushing.

He turned fully to face Anna. Her skin still damp, chest rising and falling just slightly faster now. She looked up at him—eyes not teasing anymore, but heavy with want.

“I thought this was supposed to be a quiet weekend,” he said.

Bella moved in behind him now, her palm brushing his lower back, barely there.

Anna stepped forward. “We’re still being quiet.”

Her hand slid across his chest, up to his shoulder, resting there. She looked at him like an invitation.

Bella’s voice came from behind his ear. “Unless you want it louder.”

Ryan didn’t answer.

He just set his glass down.

The room had fallen quiet, but not empty.

Music still played low from the corner—something slow, rhythmic, almost drowned out by the sound of breathing. Wine glasses were forgotten on the counter. The air was thick with the scent of salt, cedar, and something warmer now.

Bella ran a fingertip along the edge of her glass, then looked up at Ryan. Her tone was easy. Almost too casual.

“We should probably wash off the pool water,” she said. Then, with a tilt of her head, “Want to help us?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

Bella turned, barefoot against the cool concrete, walking slowly toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. She untied her black bikini top, straps hanging loose around her ribs. With one hand, she slipped it off, draping it over the banister as she passed.

Her back was long, smooth, damp with the last traces of pool water. The tiny bikini bottoms clung to her hips, hugging the curve of her body. The cut was high and sharp, framing her gorgeous ass with no attempt to conceal it. A picture frame on a masterpiece.

She walked like she knew he was watching.

Because he was.

Just before she turned the corner, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her bottoms and let them fall, stepping out of them without a glance back. She disappeared down the hall in a slow blur of skin and shadow.

Ryan didn’t move.

Anna stood beside him, watching him watch.

She bit her bottom lip, smiling, then stepped forward. Her fingers slid down his arm, found his hand, and laced her fingers into his like it had been waiting for hers all along.

She leaned in, her breath warm at his ear. “Well?” she whispered.

Then she gently pulled him forward, guiding him barefoot across the smooth floor, past flickering candlelight and abandoned wine, toward the shadows at the end of the hall.

Ryan followed Anna down the dim hallway, hand in hers, heart steady but heavy in his chest. The wine, the heat, the looks—it had all led here. Nothing about this was an accident.

Ahead, the faint sound of running water echoed from behind a cracked door. Steam curled into the air, thick and fragrant with soap and warm stone. The bedroom they passed through was oversized and spare—clean white walls, dark wood, and a wall of windows that caught the last of the sun.

But his eyes were already on the bathroom.

As they crossed the threshold, the room opened up—glass, concrete, and warm light reflecting off stone tile. The shower was on, water streaming from a wide ceiling fixture like tropical rain.

And Bella stood beneath it.

Completely bare.

Her back arched into the water, wet hair slicked down her spine, droplets running in clean, silver trails down the long lines of her legs, across the sharp cut of her hips. One hand sunk between her legs, the other cupping one boob. Her skin glowed—gold and olive and flushed, small rivulets tracing every curve, every shadow.

She turned toward them slowly, her green eyes locking onto his.

“You said you were patient,” she said, her voice quiet but electric. “But we’ve waited long enough.”

She stepped out from the shower spray, water still dripping from her shoulders, and crossed the tile—not bothering to cover a single inch of herself. Her hips rolled softly with each step, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, bouncing slightly as she walked.

Ryan didn’t move.

She stopped in front of him, bare feet almost touching his, chin tilted up slightly to meet his eyes, her body close enough for him to feel the heat of her skin, to smell her, scented with something warm and mineral, the faint sweetness of body wash, and pure heat.

She didn’t look away.

Her fingers found the knot at his waistband and slowly, without a word, began to untie it.

One loop.

Then the other.

She held his gaze the entire time—unblinking, unreadable, completely in control.

The trunks loosened, sliding lower on his hips.

Then lower. His dick now rock hard and throbbing. Bella pulls the band to get it around him, his cock flops out of his shorts..

And finally, she eases them off him entirely, inch by inch, her fingers grazing the insides of his thighs as she did.

When they hit the floor, Bella didn’t step back.

She stayed there, standing naked in front of him, the sound of the water filling the space around them. Anna moved in behind, quiet, close, her breath brushing his shoulder.

Bella’s lips parted slightly. A hungry look in her eye as she appraised his hard cock, standing at attention.

“Now,” she said, almost a whisper, “you’re ready.”

The sound of the shower filled the room—soft, steady, like rainfall through a warm forest.

Bella stood in front of Ryan, naked and glistening, droplets sliding off her body as steam swirled around her ankles. Water traced the soft ridges of her stomach and the slight black landing strip beneath it, catching his eye before he pulled it back to hers.

She stepped aside with a quiet smirk and nodded toward Anna, who stood just behind him, waiting.

“Help her,” Bella said, voice low.

Ryan turned.

Anna stood barefoot on the warm tile, her small bikini top clinging to her skin, the wet fabric faintly sheer now, nipples visible beneath the faded pattern. Her bottoms were soaked too, high-cut and tight, hugging the curve of her hips, her long legs wet.

She looked up at him and didn’t say a word.

Ryan stepped forward and reached up slowly, fingers brushing her collarbones as he found the knot behind her neck. He tugged it loose, then slid the top away—her breasts small and perfect, tipped with pink that deepened as the cool air met damp skin.

Anna watched him quietly, biting her lower lip.

His hands dropped to her hips, thumbs slipping under the thin elastic of her bikini bottoms. He pulled them down slowly, steadily, inch by inch, kneeling down without breaking eye contact, the fabric peeling away like a second skin.

When she stepped free, he stood again, so close that his hard 8 inch cock grazed her legs on the way up.

Behind him, he heard Bella’s voice, low and amused. “Come rinse off.”

He turned.

Both women stepped beneath the spray—naked, wet, warm against the stone. Bella pulled Anna in and kissed her—slow and full, hands cradling Anna’s face as their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, soft curves slick and shining. Their breasts rubbing together, sending a shiver of sensation down both of their bodies.

The kiss broke, and they both looked at him, smiling—two mouths, four eyes, one invitation.

“Come on,” Bella said.

He stepped forward and joined them, his dick bouncing, the hot water wrapping around him like silk.

Bella handed him the soap, her smile just slightly wicked. “Wash her.”

Ryan turned to Anna, who tilted her chin up, waiting. He lathered the bar in his hands, then set it down, his fingers gliding over her arms, shoulders, across the slope of her back. The water ran down between them, steam rising around their legs.

His hands moved slowly over her chest—soapy, slick, soft—and her eyes fluttered closed as his thumbs grazed her nipples. They stiffened instantly beneath his touch, her breath catching quietly in her throat.

Bella watched, one hand trailing down her own stomach as the water rolled across her skin. She didn’t interrupt. She just watched, touching herself.

Anna opened her eyes again, her voice barely audible under the sound of the shower.

“Don’t stop.”

The steam was thicker now. The kind that blurred tile edges and softened skin to a warm, glowing sheen.

Anna leaned into Ryan’s hands, her chest slick and rising with every breath as he moved slowly over her. Her skin was soapy and smooth beneath his palms, her nipples taut under the heat of water and the press of his thumbs.

Then Bella stepped forward.

She didn’t say anything at first—just moved in behind him, her hands sliding around his waist, wet skin pressing into his back, hard nipples on shoulder blades. She reached for his wrists, guiding his hands lower on Anna’s hips, until his fingertips traced the sharp lines of her pelvis, circling there, just above where the water gathered and fell. She led his right hand to Anna’s hot wet slit, his fingers finding the hard knob of her clit ready and waiting.

He circled his fingers around her clit, then slid them down between her slick, silky, lips.

“Like that,” Bella murmured, her lips close to his ear. “Slow. Let her feel all of it.”

Her voice was confident, nearly calm, but the tension in her breath betrayed how turned on she was.

Anna looked up at him, lips parted slightly. She leaned in, her body brushing his chest now, soft and wet and warm. Water rolled between them in rivulets.

Bella’s hands didn’t stop.

She dragged them up Ryan’s arms, over his chest, exploring him from behind. Her nails traced his abs, playful at first—then lower, more deliberate. She wrapped her fingers around his cock, her body grinding into him from behind.

Bella’s hands, slick with soap, easily slide up and down his length. Base to tip, and back again.

“Fuck, Bella. That feels good,” he moaned.

She moved around in front of him, her gaze sweeping down his body.

Her mouth twitched into a grin.

“You’ve been holding back on us, Ryan,” she said, eyes lingering between his hips.

Anna followed her gaze, her hand already moving, curious and unhurried. She wrapped her fingers around him, breath catching just slightly as she did. Bella joined her, one hand over his, the other sliding to cup his jaw and pull his eyes back to hers.

“You like being watched, don’t you?” she whispered.

Anna’s touch grew more confident now, her eyes flicking up, then back down again. Their hands moved together—exploring, playing, pressing. Ryan’s breath deepened, his chest rising between them. Anna stroked his shaft, firm and gentle. His hips swayed slightly.

Bella noticed.

She stepped closer, so close her body kissed his, slick and warm. She took his hand again and placed it on her own stomach, guiding it up slowly between the curve of her waist and the fullness of her chest, her skin soft and slippery beneath the soap and steam.

She leaned in until their lips almost met. Not quite.

The steam clung to everything.

Anna leaned into Ryan’s chest, her lips brushing the base of his neck as the water cascaded down her back. Her hands slid over his hips again, playful now, almost greedy. Bella stood just behind, fingers still gliding over his chest, mapping muscle and reaction, every touch purposeful.

Together, their bodies moved like a slow rhythm—skin against skin, hands exploring, lips brushing shoulders and collarbones. The water pulsed over them, a gentle roar that muffled words but not breath.

Bella reached behind her, grabbed the soap one last time, and passed it into Anna’s hand. “Your turn,” she said.

Anna smiled and lathered it in her palms, then turned to Bella.

She started with her shoulders, tracing down her arms, then across her chest—soapy curves gleaming in the light, nipples peaking beneath her fingers. Bella didn’t flinch, didn’t look away—she just watched Ryan over Anna’s shoulder, her expression unreadable but charged.

Then Anna turned Bella slowly in place, lathering down her back, over the dip of her waist, then lower, her palms tracing the shape of her hips, her backside, her thighs.

Bella’s breath hitched. Just once.

Ryan stepped forward and rinsed them both, hands under the water, gliding over shoulders and hips, letting the heat draw them in tighter until the space between them dissolved entirely.

When they were slick and shining and breathless, Bella looked up at Ryan, eyes sharp.

“Now,” she said, her voice low and velvet-soft, “we’re clean…”

She stepped out of the stream, reaching for a towel—but only patting at her skin, still dripping.

Her eyes never left his.

“…so we can get dirty.”

She turned, completely bare, her body glistening in the light as she walked through the steam toward the bedroom. Her hips swayed, slow and deliberate, the curve of her spine leading the way. She didn’t glance back.

The bedroom was bathed in soft, amber light, warm from the last rays of sun pouring through tall glass and the flicker of a candle left burning near the window. The sheets were pale, wide, and untouched.

Until Bella reached them.

She didn’t say a word.

She climbed onto the bed slowly, water still glistening along her thighs, then leaned back against the pillows, one leg bent. The other stretched. Her body was open, relaxed, and unapologetically confident. Her dark hair spilled over the white linen, her chest rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm.

She looked at them both with half-lidded eyes.

No invitation spoken.

She didn’t need to.

Anna let out a breath and dropped the towel from her shoulders, fingers brushing against Ryan’s as she passed. She climbed onto the bed beside Bella, their skin touching instantly, naturally. They looked at each other—something silent was exchanged—then turned their eyes to him.

Ryan stood at the foot of the bed, bare, warm, breath steady but deeper now.

He looked at both of them.

Two stunning women. Still damp from the shower, skin lit by golden light, legs tangled loosely across white sheets.

Waiting.

Anna smiled first.

Bella spoke just one word.

“Come.”

Bella and Anna lay back on the bed, legs spreading wide, fingers drifting between their thighs. Their manicured pink nails moved in slow, perfect circles, tracing the wet heat between their legs—soft skin, slick lips, flushed and swollen with arousal.

Ryan moved toward them, eyes locked first on Bella, then Anna. The air crackled with heat, not just physical, but electric. Their eyes met his with equal hunger. No words, no hesitation.

He reached their feet and began slowly kissing Bella’s toes, then the delicate arch of her foot, then her ankle. His lips grazed over her skin, reverent but hungry. She didn’t stop touching herself, only watched him, her green eyes dark with desire.

Then Ryan turned to Anna, doing the same—soft kisses along her foot, up her calf, taking his time on her long, toned, yoga-sculpted legs. She let out a soft moan, her fingers moving faster now.

He reached her inner thigh, slowed, kissed again. Her skin was warm and slick, her scent unmistakable.

Anna held his gaze, lips parted, chest rising with shallow breaths. Then, with a quiet intake of breath, she pulled her hand away, using two fingers to part her folds, exposing herself completely.

Ryan leaned in, kissed her clit—softly, again, then again. Then his tongue began to circle her, flicking and teasing.

“Fuuuck, that feels good,” Anna whispered, her head falling back.

Bella leaned over and captured Anna’s mouth in a kiss—slow and deep, their tongues dancing, sharing the same breath. Then Bella kissed along her jawline, her neck, across her collarbone, and down, taking Anna’s nipple fully into her mouth, rolling it between her lips with deliberate rhythm.

Anna’s hips rocked beneath them—Ryan’s tongue on her clit, Bella’s mouth on her chest—her whole body alive under their touch.

Ryan slipped a finger between her folds—just a little, just enough to tease. He gave a few slow, shallow thrusts, then slid in deeper, his other hand steadying her hip.

Anna gasped. “Yes. Put your other finger in.”

He obeyed.

Bella pulled back just slightly to watch. “Take care of her, Ryan. Show her how bad you want her.”

Ryan found a rhythm—smooth, slow strokes, curling his fingers to find the spot inside her that made her whole body jump. His tongue matched the motion, tracing wide circles around her clit, then faster, tighter, focused.

“Oh fuck. I’m going to cum,” Anna gasped.

Bella’s voice poured into her ear, like silk and sin. “Mmm, yes. You’re so fucking hot when you cum. Be a good girl for Ryan. Let it go.”

The words seemed to push her over the edge.

Anna’s hips bucked. Her pussy clenched around Ryan’s fingers, tight and pulsing, waves of orgasm rolling through her. Her hands clutched the comforter in white-knuckled fists, her whole body quaking with release. She moaned loudly, breath ragged, eyes shut tight as the climax shattered through her.

Ryan eased his fingers out slowly, glancing up.

His chin glistened with her.

Bella looked over at him, her smile lazy, wicked. “I think it’s time for her to really let go. Don’t you think?”

She reached for the nightstand, returning with a small black vibrator and a bottle of lube. She poured a generous amount onto her fingers and rubbed it slowly between Anna’s legs, spreading the slickness across her clit and folds.

Anna arched her hips, bridging, and Bella slid two pillows under her back, angling her body perfectly.

“I want you to fuck her,” Bella said. “Show us both what you’ve got.”

As Ryan moved between Anna’s legs, Bella leaned down—her mouth wrapping around the head of his cock, tongue swirling. She took him deeper, then came off with a soft gasp and a silver strand stretching from her lips to him. She spat in her hand, rubbed it around his shaft, then gripped him—firm, guiding, slow.

She ran the head of his cock along Anna’s slick folds, circling her clit, then slowly brought him to her entrance.

Ryan pressed in, Anna’s pussy stretching to take him, the lube and her own wetness making the glide smooth, effortless.

“Oh my god,” Anna moaned, blue eyes wide and blazing. “You feel so fucking good.”

Ryan began to move—deep, steady strokes, holding her thighs open as he thrust into her. Her body welcomed him, still fluttering from her first orgasm, and now igniting again.

Bella turned on the vibrator and brought it to Anna’s clit. The moment it made contact, Anna cried out—her body jolting, clenching tighter around Ryan’s cock.

“Shit,” Ryan groaned. “You’re so tight. I can feel everything.”

Anna’s moans filled the room, her fingers tugging at her nipples as she writhed between them—his cock inside her, Bella’s toy buzzing at her clit, her body on fire.

Her voice rose sharply.

“Oh my GOD—oh my fucking god,” she gasped. “I’m going to cum so fucking hard!”

Ryan quickened his pace. Bella pressed the vibrator with precision, circling faster.

Anna exploded.

Her legs shook violently, her hips thrust upward, her pussy clenching hard around Ryan, drawing him in deeper as the orgasm ripped through her again. She screamed, not caring how loud, her whole body convulsing in waves.

Ryan groaned low, barely holding on.

Bella pulled the vibrator back gently as Anna’s body settled, her breathing coming in shaky bursts. Ryan eased out of her, his cock soaked in slickness, shining with her cum, the lube, Bella’s spit—all of it.

Bella smiled and leaned forward.

“Now it’s my turn,” she said.

She climbed over Anna, knees straddling her waist, and reached between her own legs—spreading her slick, glistening folds, coating her clit in Anna’s wetness.

Bella leaned down and kissed Anna hard.

Ryan kneeled behind her now, watching both of them—bodies sprawled out, wanting, open.

Bella glanced over her shoulder, her ass arched high, her pussy exposed and dripping.

She handed the vibrator to Anna.

“Play with me,” she said.

Anna took the toy and slid it between Bella’s legs, pressing it right to her clit.

Bella gasped, rocked her hips, then looked back at Ryan—eyes dark, daring, wild.

“Go ahead, Ryan,” Anna said, her voice breathless. “Give her that amazing cock.”

Ryan placed his hands firmly on Bella’s hips, his thumbs grazing over the smooth curve of her ass. Sensual. Possessive. She arched into his touch, her breath catching as Anna moved the vibrator in slow circles around her clit from below. Bella moaned, her body already pulsing, pussy muscles tightening in anticipation.

Ryan could feel the heat radiating from her. He guided himself forward, sliding the thick head of his cock against her soaked entrance.

“Yes,” Bella gasped, glancing over her shoulder. Her green eyes blazed with hunger. “Fuck me, Ryan.”

He pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, until he filled her completely. Her body stretched around him, soft and hot, taking every inch. He paused there, savoring it. The way she held him. The way her breath hitched with every throb.

Then he began to move, slow, deep thrusts that built pressure with every stroke. He pulled out almost completely, then slammed back in, hard. The sound of his hips slapping against her ass echoed in the room. Her skin rippled beneath his grip.

Clap. Clap. Clap. The rhythm quickened.

Ryan’s hands tightened around her hips, guiding her back into him. He drove forward again and again, his body working with hers, not just to take, but to claim.

Bella moaned louder, rocking her hips to meet him. Their bodies collided, wet, wild, in rhythm.

“Give me all of it,” Bella growled. “Fuck me like I’m your dirty little slut.”

Anna’s voice floated up from below, sultry and delighted. “God, you’re so sexy like this. Keep going, Ryan—she loves it.”

Bella’s movements grew more urgent, her ass slamming back against him with every thrust. Her cries turned to screams.

“YES—fuck me! Harder!”

Ryan’s abs flexed with the effort, his whole body a coiled spring. He watched her, listened to her, felt the way she squeezed him tighter with each thrust.

“Both of your pussies are mine,” he growled.

Bella broke. The orgasm ripped through her, fast and uncontrollable. She cried out, a high, desperate sound as her pussy clamped down on his cock, hard and wet. A hot rush of fluid spilled over him.

“YESSS! Don’t stop—oh my God, I’m coming so fucking hard!”

Her whole body shuddered violently beneath him, her voice breaking, her hands gripping the sheets. The contractions rolled through her, one after another, squeezing him with each wave.

Ryan held on, but just barely.

“I’m going to cum,” he groaned, breath ragged.

“Do it,” Anna purred. “Fill her up. Give her everything.”

Bella only moaned, the aftershocks still wrecking her.

Then Ryan’s climax hit. It knocked the breath out of him. His whole body tensed as he gripped Bella’s hips tighter. A guttural sound escaped his throat as he pulsed deep inside her—hot, heavy waves spilling into her.

One. Two. A third. His orgasm ran through him like fire. He didn’t move, just stayed buried in her, hips pressed tight, until the shudders passed.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I’m coming so hard.”

Anna’s voice came again, low and amused. “God, that’s so hot.”

Ryan slowed, his strokes now deep and lazy. When he finally pulled out, his cock glistened with their slickness—cum, lube, and everything they’d made together. Bella’s pussy was soaked, swollen, and as he stepped back, a thick glob of cum spilled from her, trailing between her thighs.

Anna was still beneath her.

The first drop landed on her stomach. Then another, heavier, splattered just above her pussy. She laughed, delighted and breathless.

Bella glanced down and smirked.

Still flushed from her orgasm, she slid backward along Anna’s body. Her eyes locked on the trail of Ryan’s cum. Her expression turned hungry. Wild.

Without a word, she lowered her head and licked Anna clean—slow, indulgent strokes from clit to ass, savoring every drop. She made a second pass, messier, sucking him from Anna’s skin.

Then she crawled back up, eyes blazing.

“Feed me his cum,” Anna whispered, tongue already out, lips parted.

Bella hovered above her. Her mouth opened, and a thick drop fell, hitting Anna’s tongue, then dripping down her chin.

Then Bella kissed her—deep, filthy, unhurried. Their mouths moved together, the taste of Ryan shared between them, tongues dancing in the heat of it.

Bella pulled back, licking her lips.

“Mmm. Tastes so good.”

Both women were soaked, their bodies slick and glistening in the low light. Ryan sat back on his knees, chest rising and falling as he took them in—two goddesses painted in sweat, cum, and sin.

Bella let out a long breath, her body sinking into the mattress.

“I knew you weren’t shy,” she murmured, eyeing him with a lazy grin.

Anna propped herself on one elbow. “I should clean you off.”

She flipped around and took him into her mouth, still half-hard, still sensitive. Her tongue danced around him, coaxing him gently, licking him clean.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Ryan muttered, barely able to breathe.

Bella watched, eyes glowing with mischief. Encouraging. Waiting.

Anna worked her mouth up and down, expertly. She pulled off with a gasp.

“Mmm. Delicious. I can taste both of us.”

Then they collapsed on either side of him, spent and grinning.

Anna rested her head on his chest, one leg tossed over his. Bella ran her fingers across his stomach, drawing slow lines over his abs.

“I think we’re going to have a great weekend,” Bella said.

Outside, the waves lapped gently below the cliffs. Inside, the fire inside them flickered low. And in that bed, they breathed, tangled and warm, the weekend only just beginning.