Upstairs, the movie still played, casting flickering shadows across the room. But none of the girls were watching it, not really.

Poppy sat rigidly on her side of the pillow nest, the popcorn long forgotten, her fingers curled tightly into the blanket as her eyes flicked toward the other side of the room. She was soaked.

Jennifer was hidden beneath the covers, but it was obvious where she was. Leslie lay back, her lips parted, her breath coming in soft gasps. One hand gripped the sheets, the other tangled in Jennifer’s hair, fingers twitching with every moan that slipped out.

“Yes baby, right there.” Leslie cooed.

Poppy swallowed hard, her thighs squeezing together, pulse quickening.

“Jesus…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “That’s so hot.”

Leslie’s head lolled to the side, her cheeks flushed, her smile lazy and smug. “You like the show?” she purred, her voice thick and playful.

Poppy nodded, wide-eyed, biting her lip.

Leslie licked her lips. “Then strip, Poppy. Get comfortable.” Her grin widened. “If you’re that turned on, don’t hold back. We’re all friends here.”

Jennifer didn’t pause under the blanket, hummed in agreement, the sound vibrating against Leslie’s core, making her moan again, louder this time.

Poppy hesitated for only a second… then reached for the hem of her sleep shirt, breath catching in her throat. Poppy’s breath was shallow as she tugged her sleep shirt over her head, tossing her soaked flimsy lace panties across the room, the cool air of the room brushing across her flushed skin. Her heart pounded as she moved slowly, almost hesitantly, then lowered herself over a plush pillow, pressing it between her thighs. She gripped her nipples and tweaked them.

Across the room, the rhythm beneath the blankets never stopped. Jennifer’s head moved in a steady pattern, the sheets rising and falling with each breath. Leslie was unraveling, head tilted back, hair fanned out across the pillows, one hand fisting the fabric beneath her, the other lazily cupping her own chest, teasing herself with a smirk curling at her lips.

“So fucking good, baby..” Leslie whimpered. “Mm, fuck yes.”

Poppy’s hips shifted instinctively, grinding down against the pillow. The sensation was enough to draw a breathy moan from her lips, soft and shaky. Her thighs squeezed tighter, trying to contain the growing heat inside her. She rocked her hips back and forth.

Leslie’s gaze flicked over to her. Eyes half-lidded, flushed and wild, she grinned. “That’s it,” she purred, voice low and syrup-sweet. “Let yourself feel it.”

Encouraged, Poppy’s fingers dancing lightly across her skin. Her eyes never left the sight of Leslie, the way her body arched, the faint sounds of Jennifer working beneath the covers. Everything about the scene fanned the fire in her gut.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Leslie murmured, breathless. “You look so pretty like that. So pretty fucking that pillow. Your pretty pussy riding it for us.”

Poppy moaned softly, her rhythm picking up, her movements more desperate now. The room pulsed with heat—quiet sounds of pleasure and breathy gasps mixing with the flicker of the forgotten movie still playing on the screen.

“Oh, god. Make her come, Jennifer. Please. God.” Poppy moaned.

Poppy’s breath came in short, shaky bursts as her hips rocked faster, grinding down against the pillow between her thighs. Her head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut, fingers curled into the soft fabric beneath her as if anchoring herself against the wave building deep inside. Her breasts rising with her as she rode that pillow like it was the last thing she would ever do.

Her moans grew louder, unrestrained now, matching the rising tension in the room. It wasn’t just the rhythm of her own hips or the breathy sighs from Leslie—it was the faint, unmistakable sounds echoing faintly through the ceiling.

A feminine cry. Then another. The sounds were distant but unmistakable—needy, gasping, unmistakably Hannah… and someone else. Poppy didn’t even need to guess. Diana.

The realization made her body jolt with a rush of heat, her breath catching. She couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. The thought of what might be happening downstairs only made her grind harder, aching with a primal need she didn’t fully understand.

“Don’t stop now,” Leslie coaxed, her voice low and rough with arousal. “Come on, Poppy. Faster. You’re almost there. Cover that fucking pillow in your pussy juice.”

Jennifer was still beneath the blanket, her head buried between Leslie’s thighs, and whatever she was doing made Leslie gasp and then squeal—a sudden high, breathless sound as her back arched and her hips jolted.

“Oh my god, Jen,” she whimpered, laughing through her moans. “Your hands… Fuck my pussy with those fingers. Yes, yes , right there , baby!”

Poppy could barely focus—her body lost in rhythm, her cheeks flushed, her breath ragged. She didn’t notice the soft creak of the hallway floorboards… or the figure that had paused in the doorway.

Jacob, eyes bleary, shirtless and barefoot, had started down the hall intending to crash on the couch, annoyed by the muffled moans from his parents’ room. But the sound of soft whimpers and gasps from Leslie’s door had pulled him toward it instead.

He stopped cold.

There, bathed in flickering TV light, was Poppy—straddling a pillow, shirtless, her body glistening with sweat. Her hips rocked fast, desperate, and her mouth was parted in a soft moan.

Jacob didn’t move. He didn’t dare breathe.

Inside the room, Poppy had no idea she was being watched. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, grinding harder at Leslie’s encouragement. “Harder, Poppy. That’s it, baby. Fuck that pillow for me.  Grind that sweet pussy.”

Leslie’s voice was a low purr now, her hand tangled in Jennifer’s hair again, moaning softly as Jennifer’s hands disappeared further beneath the blanket.

The heat in the room thickened—layers of pleasure and breathless desperation building with each second.

Jacob stood frozen in the doorway, the soft creak of the floor behind him drowned beneath the sounds inside the room—moans, gasps, the wet rustle of movement beneath blankets, and the rising heat of voices losing control.

His breath caught as his eyes stayed locked on Poppy. His cock growing hard as steel.

She was straddling the pillow like it was the only thing holding her together, her body rocking with raw urgency, every bounce sharper, faster. Her hands clawed at the blanket below her, her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut in a haze of need.

And then—he heard it.

A soft whisper, breathy and broken, slipping from her parted lips:

“Jacob…”

His name, wrapped in a moan. Barely audible—but it hit him like a punch.

Jacob’s mouth went dry, his knuckles white where they gripped the doorframe. He should’ve turned around. He knew that. But he didn’t. Couldn’t.

Inside the room, things were unraveling fast.

Leslie cried out, loud and unfiltered, her hips jerking up against Jennifer’s eager mouth hidden under the blanket. Her body writhed, fingers digging into the pillows, hair a wild mess around her flushed face.

“Yes—yes—yes!” she gasped, her voice sharp and urgent. “Right there, oh fuck yes, lick my pussy , don’t stop, don’t you dare stop—”

Poppy’s moans quickened, higher, more desperate, matching the rhythm of her hips as they slammed against the pillow. The air in the room was thick with sweat, tension, and breathless, animal heat.

Jacob’s chest rose and fell like he’d run a mile. His eyes never left Poppy. And when she gasped again, trembling on the edge, he swore she was about to say his name again.

The room was on fire.

“Yes, Jacob, right there. Fuck me, baby.” Poppy whimpered.

Poppy’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as she pressed harder, grinding down in a desperate, frantic rhythm. The sounds in the room blurred—Leslie’s gasping cries, the wet rustle of movement beneath the blankets, the flickering hum of the TV—until all she could hear was her own heartbeat, pounding like a drum in her ears.

Her thighs trembled, her body tense as a wire. She was right there—so close she could taste it—and then—

Her eyes opened.

And she saw him.

Jacob.

Standing in the doorway, half in shadow, his expression unreadable—except for the heat in his eyes. Watching her with unflinching focus, like she was something he didn’t dare breathe too hard on for fear she’d disappear.

The moment locked between them. Her body broke.

A choked cry escaped her lips as her hips jerked, pleasure ripping through her in waves. Her fingers dug into the pillow, her skin slick with sweat. And still, Jacob watched her. Not a word. Not a blink.

Behind her, Leslie’s voice rose to a scream as she came hard against Jennifer’s mouth, her body bucking beneath the blanket. “Yes—oh fucking God—yes!You’re making me commmee!”

The room was a symphony of lewd sounds, moans, gasps, bodies falling apart in the dark.

But Poppy didn’t hear it anymore.

She was breathing hard, her body shaking, her thighs quivering around the pillow. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, and her wide, disbelieving eyes were still locked on Jacob’s.

He held her gaze, his jaw tight, chest rising and falling. Then, slowly, he raised one hand and curled a single finger.

Come here. Now.

The silent command burned hotter than words.

Poppy didn’t think. Her legs barely worked, but she pushed herself up, one trembling hand clutching the edge of the blanket for balance. Leslie was still gasping, lost in her own high, and Jennifer hadn’t come up from beneath the sheets. They didn’t notice her go.

She stepped over the pillow, barefoot and breathless, the air cool against her flushed skin.

Jacob stepped back.

And she followed him out the door.

The stairs creaked under Poppy’s bare feet as she descended, her breath still unsteady, heart racing faster than it had any right to. The sounds from upstairs had faded into a dull hum behind her, but the heat in her skin remained, like something left unfinished, simmering under the surface.

She reached the bottom, her eyes scanning the dark living room.

Empty.

The moonlight spilled through the window, silver against the hardwood floor, stretching long shadows across the couch. She took a slow step forward, her hands fidgeting at her sides, unsure what exactly she was walking into—but desperate for it, all the same.

Then she felt him behind her.

Large. Warm. Close.

She gasped as strong hands suddenly gripped her hips, spinning her gently but firmly. Before she could even blink, Jacob pressed her down over the back of the couch, his body flush to hers, his voice low and dark at her ear.

“Do you have any idea how hot that was to watch? Watching you ride that pillow until that pretty pussy came?”

Poppy laughed softly, shakily, the sound caught between nerves and thrill. Her palms pressed to the cool leather of the couch, her back arching instinctively toward him. “You were watching that whole time?” she breathed.

“I couldn’t look away,” he growled, his hands sliding slowly up her sides, over her bare skin. “You were… unreal.”

She wiggled her ass back into him with a teasing smile, her skin burning under his touch.

“Were you thinking about me?” he asked, voice like gravel, low and heated. “When you said my name?”

Poppy hesitated, but only for a second. Her voice was a whisper, a confession wrapped in a moan.

“Yes.”

His grip on her hips tightened.

Jacob’s hands gripped Poppy’s hips, firm and possessive, and in one fluid motion, he pulled her down onto his lap in the old leather chair by the window. It creaked faintly under the shift of weight, the moonlight carving lines of silver along the muscles in his arms as he guided her into place.

He didn’t rush.

He held her just above him, her knees straddling his thighs, his body hot and solid beneath her. She could feel the pressure of him, hard and throbbing, nudging against her—but he didn’t push further. Not yet.

Instead, he dragged her slowly along the length of him, letting her feel everything—teasing, torturing. Her breath caught as she clung to his shoulders, her hips trembling as he moved her deliberately against him. Her wetness coating his cock.

“You know those pictures you sent me? The ones you said were on accident… “ he said, voice rough and low, his breath grazing the skin below her ear. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Teasing me. Testing me.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She just nodded, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and dark.

He tilted his head, his jaw sharp and tense, the stubble across it catching the moonlight. His full lips curved into a knowing grin, but his eyes burned—a wild, electric blue that pinned her in place.

“You were trying to drive me crazy, weren’t you?”

Poppy bit her lip and nodded again, her breath shivering out of her.

“Was tonight the first time you touched yourself thinking about me? The first time you moaned my name when you played with this wet pussy?” he asked, the question threading through the air like smoke.

She looked down for a second, then met his gaze. “No.” His words making her pussy spasm.

Jacob groaned, his hands tightening on her hips.

And then, slowly, deliberately, he pulled her down onto him. She gasped, her whole body shivering as he filled her, the pressure and heat so intense it stole her breath.

Jacob’s eyes stayed locked on hers, his mouth parted, his brow furrowed in something deeper than lust. His hair, shoulder-length and damp from the heat of the house, clung to his face and neck. The wildness in his gaze never left fierce and untamed, like something barely held back.

“God, Poppy…” he whispered. “You have no idea what you do to me. You have no clue how long I’ve wanted this.”

Jacob’s breath caught as he slid fully into her—slow, deep, deliberate. The sound that escaped his throat was low and guttural, a mix of relief and possession, like something primal had just been satisfied. His fingers curled tighter around Poppy’s narrow hips, holding her still, grounding them both.

“God,” he groaned, head tilting back for a moment as he took in the feel of her. “You’re so warm. So tight… I knew you would feel like this.”

He looked at her again, that wildness still burning behind his sharp blue eyes—dark with hunger, yet razor-focused. His jaw clenched as his breathing sharpened, nostrils flaring. The muscles in his chest and arms flexed beneath her fingers, every inch of him strained and taut with restraint.

And then he slammed her down once, hard and sudden, making her gasp.

“Tell me,” he growled, voice barely holding together. “Tell me how it feels… being full of my cock. Having your tiny pussy stretched like this.”

Poppy’s body rocked, her chest rising and falling as she stared at him through half-lidded eyes, lips parted, her hands bracing against his shoulders. The movement made her breasts bounce with every shift, catching the pale light like silk against shadow, her creamy skin glowing like velvet in the darkness.

His eyes never left her—devouring every tremble, every sound, every inch of her that gave herself over to the moment.

She opened her mouth, her voice breathless.

“It feels like… like I was made to take you.”

Jacob let out a low, broken laugh that was anything but amused. “Yeah,” he muttered, hands tightening. “Yeah you fucking were.”

Jacob’s gaze darkened, his chest rising in deep, hungry breaths as Poppy writhed in his lap. Every movement of her body against his sent a shudder through him, but he wanted more—needed more. Not just her body, but her obedience. Her surrender.

His large hand slid up from her waist, fingers skimming the curve of her spine, the back of her neck—then circled around her throat. He didn’t squeeze, not hard. Just enough for her to feel it. Just enough to let her know who was in control.

Her breath hitched, her lips parting as her eyes fluttered halfway shut, the weight of his dominance grounding her and lighting her up all at once.

With his other hand, he gripped her hip and guided her—slow at first, then with more force, making her grind along his lap, dragging every inch of sensation from her with deliberate rhythm.

“Ride me,” Jacob growled, his voice low, commanding. “Like you did that pillow.”

Poppy whimpered—high and breathless—her eyes locking onto his, wide and shining. She began to move with purpose now, her hips rolling, guided by his hand and driven by something deeper. The way he looked at her—like she was his to break and worship in the same breath—made her heart pound in her throat.

His fingers at her neck tightened just slightly, and she gasped.

“Yeah,” he rasped, teeth clenched, eyes never leaving hers. “Just like that. Squeeze my cock with that tight fucking pussy.”

She rocked harder, her body trembling, each rise and fall sending waves of pleasure and tension through them both. The leather of the chair creaked beneath them, the moonlight still casting them in silver and shadow.

He leaned in closer, mouth at her ear.

“Not so sweet now, are you?” he whispered.

And Poppy… could only moan in response.

Jacob’s grip shifted—both hands now gripping her waist with unrelenting force. The moment he seized control, Poppy let out a strangled gasp, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as he began to move her. No more slow grinding. No more teasing. He spread her soft ass cheeks and gripped them hard.

He made her bounce.

Hard. Fast. Deep.

Every downward snap of her hips landed with purpose, driven by his strength, her body forced to take every inch of him. The chair groaned beneath them. Her thighs trembled with the rhythm. Her head lolled back, chest heaving, the breath ripped from her lungs with every sharp thrust. Her thighs slapped against his own. Her pussy milking him.

Jacob’s eyes were dark, his jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his arms flexing as he kept her moving, claiming her.

“You feel that?” he growled, his voice guttural, shaking with restraint. “This is mine now. You’re mine now.”

Poppy whimpered, nodding with a frantic desperation that only fueled him more.

“I watched you upstairs, sweet little Poppy,” he rasped, pulling her down with a jolt that made her cry out. “Grinding on that pillow like no one could see you. But I saw everything. And now…”

Another hard pull. Another gasp.

“…now I want every part of you broken open for me.”

Her breath came in sharp bursts, her moans raw and high, body quivering under his force and command. She couldn’t form words, only reactions—clinging, trembling, giving.

Jacob leaned in, lips brushing her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re not gonna forget this. I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

His hands lifted her just slightly—just enough to slam her back down again, the shock of it making her cry out louder than before. His movements were relentless now, driven by need, by hunger, by something dark and undeniable inside him.

Jacob’s patience snapped like a live wire.

With a sharp breath and a growl low in his throat, he rose from the chair, lifting Poppy effortlessly with him—still joined, her arms locking around his shoulders with a breathless gasp. Her legs tightened at his sides, but he didn’t give her time to adjust. He turned, dropped back into the chair again—this time with herbeneath him.

He spread her legs wide, holding her open with one hand while the other gripped the back of the chair. And then he drove into her—again. Again. Hard.

Poppy cried out, her voice sharp and breathless, her fingers gripping the armrests as her body rocked under his. Her head tipped back, mouth open, sounds falling from her lips that weren’t even words anymore—just pure need.

Jacob’s eyes were wild, all blue flame and hunger. His hair clung to his jaw, dark and damp, framing the sharp lines of his face. His full lips were parted, breath rasping, but his voice—his voice was steel wrapped in heat.

“You feel that?” he growled. “Every inch of your tight cunt taking me in?”

She nodded, moaned, whimpered something lost in the haze of pleasure.

He thrust harder. The chair creaked in protest.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough, feral. “Tell me who this pussy belongs belong to.”

Poppy sobbed through a gasp, her voice barely holding together. “Y-you…”

He slammed into her again, a jolt that made her arch with a desperate cry.

“Louder.”

“Yours! My pussy is yours!”

His mouth curved into something half-wicked, half-reverent. Like hearing it made something in him settle. Or snap.

Jacob didn’t let up.

Every thrust pushed deeper, rough and claiming, his pace relentless as Poppy arched beneath him, her cries growing louder with each hard stroke. Her skin was glowing under him, flushed and damp, her body trembling as she clung to him with wide, pleading eyes.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the swell of her chest—then opened his mouth, licking slowly over the curve before dragging his teeth gently across her skin. She gasped, her back arching into him as he sucked, leaving a mark that made her cry out.

“God,” he groaned against her skin, his voice rough and reverent, “you look so beautiful like this… moaning for me.”

His mouth moved lower, teasing, worshiping her with each kiss and graze of tongue. His hands moved over her like he couldn’t get enough—possessive, hungry, sure.

“I’ve been waiting months,” he whispered, breath hot against her skin. “Watching you. Dreaming of you. Wanting to take you like this… wanting you to go wild on my cock.”

Poppy could barely breathe. Her hands gripped his shoulders like anchors, her entire body shaking beneath him.

Then Jacob’s hand slid up, cupping her face, tilting her chin. His fingers traced her lips, and without hesitation, he slipped one between them.

“Open,” he ordered softly.

She did.

He watched her, eyes blazing, as her lips closed around his finger, her tongue warm and eager. His breath hitched at the sight, so raw, so obedient, so his.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice like thunder low in his chest. “Say it.”

Poppy’s lips closed around Jacob’s finger, her eyes fluttering shut as she sucked, slow and obedient, her breathing shallow and frantic. Her legs tightened around his waist, locking him in, as though her body couldn’t bear even a millimeter of space between them.

Jacob’s eyes were fixed on her—dark, hungry, unrelenting.

“Just like that,” he growled, pulling his finger free, glistening with her warmth. His gaze didn’t leave hers as he brought it between them, lowering it with deliberate slowness.

Poppy gasped, her entire body tensing under the sensation. He circled the most sensitive part of her with a ruthless kind of reverence, dragging her straight into the edge she’d been trembling against for too long.

Her mouth fell open.

Then she shattered.

“Jacob! Fuck me! Break my pussy!”

She screamed his name—loud and raw, not caring who might hear, not caring about anything but the way he held her, filled her, ruled her in that moment. Her fingers clawed at his back as her body convulsed around him, desperate and undone.

Jacob’s voice cut through her cries, low and commanding.

“Louder,” he ordered, slapping her with an open palm—firm, possessive, not cruel—just enough to make her jolt, just enough to remind her who she belonged to.

“Jacobbbb! I’m coming!!! I’m coming all over your cock!”

She screamed again, throat raw, body shaking.

And Jacob just held her through it, gritting his teeth, watching her fall apart in his arms like it was everything he’d ever wanted.

Poppy barely had time to catch her breath.

Her body still trembled from the high he’d dragged out of her, but Jacob wasn’t finished. Not even close.

He wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her up, only to guide her down again—this time to her knees before him. The motion was firm, unrelenting, a clear demand rather than a request.

She looked up at him, flushed and dazed, her chest rising fast as she tried to steady herself.

Jacob cupped her jaw roughly, tilting her face toward his, and crashed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. There was no sweetness in it—just a wild, consuming need to remind her who had unraveled her.

When he pulled back, his lips were slick, his voice a low, dark rasp.

“Clean up your mess,” he growled, thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Now.”

His eyes burned down into her, jaw tight, chest rising with the effort it took to hold back his own unraveling. He wanted to see her submit again—not just to the act, but to him.

Poppy lowered her gaze briefly before lifting it again to meet Jacob’s—dark, searing, and filled with that hungry pride she craved. Her movements were slow at first, reverent, her hands steady as she leaned in to take him.

Her lips parted, and she closed around him with purpose.

Jacob let out a deep, guttural groan, his fingers threading into her hair as he exhaled sharply. His whole body tensed, every muscle flexed, trying not to lose control too fast—but she made it impossible.

Her cheeks hollowed as she worked, her rhythm confident, deliberate. She wasn’t just obeying—she was devoted, like she needed to do this for him, like she needed to hear him come undone above her.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his voice rough and broken. “That’s it… Fucking just like that.”

Poppy moaned softly in response, and the sound vibrated against him, making his grip in her hair tighten, his breath stutter.

Jacob’s restraint was slipping—fast.

His fingers tightened in Poppy’s long golden hair, gripping it like it was the only thing anchoring him as he started to move. Each thrust was rougher, needier, the sharp edges of his control fraying with every sound she made.

Poppy moaned around him, low and urgent, the vibrations shooting through him like lightning. Her hands held steady against his thighs, letting him take what he needed, giving herself over without hesitation.

“God—Poppy,” he growled, voice wrecked and raw. “I’m close. So close.”

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her—the sight of her on her knees, lips wrapped around him, eyes burning with heat and submission. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath hot and shallow, and every sound she made pushed him further, faster.

His jaw locked, breath stuttering as his hips moved with desperate rhythm.

“Just a little more,” he groaned, almost to himself. “You’re gonna take every—”

His words cut off into a sharp, strangled breath, body taut, seconds from breaking.

Jacob’s grip in Poppy’s hair tightened one final time as he drove forward with a sharp, instinctive thrust—deep and unrelenting.

She gasped around him, just barely muffling the reflex as he groaned her name, his voice cracking at the edges.

That was it.

“Yes, take my fucking cum. Drink it, Poppy. Fucking drink it.”

His body locked, chest rising in a stuttering rhythm as the tension snapped and flooded through him. His head dropped back, breath leaving him in a long, ragged moan as she took all of his hot ropes of come down her throat, shaking a little, but not pulling away.

He held her there for a breath, maybe two, his fingers trembling where they still rested in her hair. The room was filled with nothing but their heavy breathing, the distant hum of the house, the quiet creak of the leather chair beneath them.

Jacob finally exhaled, looking down at her with something between awe and possession.

Poppy looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and wide, lips parted, her tongue showing his white come dancing in her mouth as she swallowed, her whole body humming from the weight of everything they’d just done.

And Jacob… he’d never seen anything more beautiful.