It had been a week since that night at Claire’s.

Well—technically, since that morning.

The sun had already started slipping through the kitchen blinds when Claire and Henry and Sarah and Amy walked in, both looking flushed and rumpled, wearing each other’s clothes and smug grins. Emily and Jessica were still catching their breath on the couch, legs tangled and flushed from hours tangled with Ron.

No one was shocked. No one was embarrassed.

Now, seven days later, the girls were back in Jessica’s car, parked just around the corner from Ron’s house. The sky was already dark, the late summer night chill still lingering in the air. The house stood solid and quiet, porch light on. Waiting.

Emily adjusted her top, something low-cut and just barely innocent. “You sure this isn’t weird?”

Jessica rolled her eyes, her lipstick flawless even in the rearview mirror. “It’s only weird if we make it weird.”

“Claire said he hasn’t shut up about us.”

Emily laughed, heat curling low in her stomach. “God, we’re such whores.”

Jessica leaned over, lips brushing Emily’s ear. “Only for the right audience.”

They knocked once. Ron answered immediately.

He looked even better than they remembered—clean-shaven tonight, but still in that way that made his jawline look cut from stone. Button-down rolled at the sleeves. Whiskey already poured.

“Ladies,” he said, voice like velvet soaked in smoke. “Been waiting.”

Jessica stepped in first, brushing past him just slow enough for her perfume to cling to his shirt. Emily followed, catching the way Ron’s eyes dipped for half a second as she passed.

The door clicked shut behind them.

This time, there was no poker game. No half-full room. Just them, the quiet hum of music from the speakers, and a night full of possibilities. Ron opened the door with that familiar, easy confidence—like he already knew exactly why they were there.

He looked good. Too good.

The kind of man who aged like a vice: all salt and shadow, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw dusted in silver scruff, and green eyes that didn’t miss a damn thing. He wore a fitted charcoal button-down, sleeves casually rolled to the elbow, showing off the veins in his forearms and that faint tan line where a watch used to sit. His dark jeans hugged his hips just right—enough to make Emily pause on the threshold and forget how to breathe for half a second.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Ron said, voice smooth and slow like warm honey. “Get in here.”

Jessica was first, as always. She breezed past him, hips swaying in her barely-there denim shorts—frayed at the hem, hugging her like a second skin. Her graphic tee, knotted just under her ribs, left a sliver of golden skin exposed. Emily followed behind, her own outfit just as indecent—low-rise shorts that made her legs look a mile long, and a faded vintage band tee stretched snug across her chest. Her dark curls bounced with every step.

Ron gave a low, appreciative hum as the door clicked shut behind them. “Damn,” he muttered, not bothering to hide his stare. “You two trying to kill me tonight or what?”

Emily grinned, tossing her curls over one shoulder. “Thought we’d make it worth your while.”

Jessica leaned against the counter, fingers already finding the rim of a glass. “You promised margaritas.”

“I delivered,” Ron said, walking past them into the kitchen. He moved with the kind of casual power that made both girls watch his back as he went. The music was already playing—something slow and bass-heavy that made the air feel thicker than it was. He handed them each a glass, condensation slipping down the sides.

“Fresh lime,” he said, locking eyes with Jessica as she took a sip. “No mix. I do things the right way.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, licking salt from the rim. “That’s what we like about you.”

Emily leaned one hip against the island, sipping her drink and meeting Ron’s gaze over the rim of her glass. “So,” she said, eyes glinting. “What did you have in mind for us tonight?”

Ron set his own drink down. He didn’t answer right away—just let the question hang between them like heat.

Then he smiled.

That slow, wicked kind of smile that promised trouble. The house smelled like sandalwood and citrus, with something deeper beneath it—maybe cigar smoke and the faintest trace of expensive cologne. The lighting was low and golden, casting warm shadows against the earth-toned walls. A subtle, sensual rhythm pulsed through the space—old-school R&B, smooth and slow, just like Ron’s voice.

Emily wandered toward the living room, her bare legs catching the glow from the floor lamp as she ran her fingers along the back of the leather couch. “This place is sexy,” she murmured, taking another sip of her margarita. “And this is amazing, by the way. Seriously.”

Jessica nodded in agreement, swirling her drink with a lazy smile. “I’d kill for this recipe.”

Ron leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching them with quiet amusement. “Good tequila. Fresh juice. The secret is patience.” His eyes lingered on them a beat too long. “Same with most things.”

Emily gave him a look over her shoulder—half challenge, half approval—then walked into the hallway lined with framed pictures and soft light. Jessica followed, tracing her fingers along the frames, until one photo in particular made her pause.

It was Ron, unmistakably younger but still just as broad and sure of himself, standing beside a woman with icy blonde hair and piercing eyes. There were several photos like it—vacations, dinners, holidays.

Jessica tilted her head, looking back toward the kitchen. “So…” she said casually, “is this your wife?”

Ron didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah.”

Emily raised her brows. Jessica blinked. “You’re married?”

He walked forward, took another sip of his margarita, and shrugged like it was no more interesting than the weather. “Not happily. Haven’t been in years. She doesn’t believe in divorce—says it’s for quitters.”

There was no apology in his voice. Just that signature cocky ease, like the confession was part of the charm.

He looked between them, then smirked. “That gonna be a problem for either of you?”

Jessica opened her mouth, but Emily beat her to it. She raised her glass, eyes locked on his, and took a slow, deliberate sip.

“Not at all,” she said, lips brushing the salted rim.

Jessica smirked, eyes narrowing with interest. “Not unless she walks in right now.”

Ron chuckled, deep and rich. “She’s in Paris with her sister. She’s got her distractions. And now, I’ve got mine.”

He stepped closer, slow and unhurried, letting the tension stretch between them.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the plush sunken living room. “Sit with me. Let’s get comfortable.”They sat together in the sunken living room, the low hum of music wrapping around their voices as they sipped and laughed. Conversation came easy—too easy, considering what they’d all done a week ago. But that was part of the thrill, wasn’t it? That this didn’t have to be awkward or heavy. Just fun. Electric. Something they all wanted.

Ron asked about their classes, teasing them about their majors, and the girls fired back with shameless flattery about his “distinguished older man” vibe. He took it all in stride, his eyes drinking them in like a second cocktail.

By the time their glasses were empty, they were already leaning in a little closer, legs brushing, lips shining from the last of the salt.

“I’ll top you off,” Ron said, standing with a stretch that made his shirt pull tight across his chest. Jessica’s eyes dipped briefly. So did Emily’s. Neither of them pretended otherwise.

They followed him out back with fresh drinks in hand. His backyard was quiet and tastefully lit, string lights casting a soft glow over the wooden patio. A pair of cushioned chairs flanked a sleek outdoor fire table, flames flickering gently beneath a layer of smooth black glass. Beyond the fence, the neighborhood was still and sleepy—but close enough that the back windows of the nearest house could be seen clearly.

Jessica sank into one chair, curling her legs beneath her, while Emily leaned over the edge of the fence for a second, her dark curls catching the light. “You can literally see into their living room,” she murmured, half-laughing.

“Suburbia’s full of secrets,” Ron said, sipping his drink. “Not all of them stay inside.”

Emily turned, a wicked little grin tugging at her lips. “Speaking of secrets…”

Jessica’s brows lifted, already knowing where this was going.

Emily plopped down in the other chair, her tan legs stretched out and her eyes bright with mischief. “Truth or dare,” she said, tapping the rim of her glass. “Come on. Let’s make things interesting.”

Ron raised an eyebrow, amused. “You want to play truth or dare with me?”

Jessica giggled into her drink. “Scared you’ll lose?”

He chuckled low, taking a slow sip of his margarita. “Sweetheart, I don’t play to lose.”

Emily smirked, eyes locked on him. “Good. Then you’re first.”

He leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass. “Hit me.”

“Truth or dare?”

Ron didn’t hesitate. “Truth.”

Emily’s smile widened. “Okay,” she said slowly, savoring it. “When was the last time you thought about us—like really thought about us—since that night at Claire’s?”

Jessica leaned in, biting her lip, already watching his mouth for the answer.

Ron’s gaze drifted between them, his voice steady but lower now, warmer. “The morning after,” he said. “In the shower. And again that night. And… let’s just say I haven’t exactly had a quiet week.”

Both girls flushed with pleased heat. Jessica laughed softly, and Emily raised her glass again in approval.

“Your turn, Ron,” Jessica teased. “Make it count.”

Ron’s eyes gleamed in the flickering firelight. “Alright,” he said slowly, gaze settling on Jessica. “Truth or dare?”

She smirked. “Dare.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping. “I dare you… to whisper in my ear exactly what you want me to do to you tonight.”

Jessica’s breath hitched.

Emily grinned, eyes sparkling. “Game on.”Jessica leaned in slowly, the firelight flickering against her skin, casting her in a glow of mischief and sin. She didn’t rush—she took her time. One hand braced on Ron’s knee, the other balancing her glass, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulder as she leaned in close.

Then, she didn’t just whisper.

She let her lips brush the shell of his ear first, teasing and slow, and then she nibbled—just lightly—drawing the softest breath from his throat. Her voice was low, sultry, laced with filth as she whispered exactly what she wanted him to do to her. Words meant for no one else.

Ron grinned, slow and dangerous, and let his hand slide over the curve of her tight shorts, fingers trailing possessively across the denim, his palm cupping her backside as she stayed bent forward just long enough to feel his grip tighten. She smirked against his ear before pulling back, her cheeks flushed, her eyes gleaming with pride.

Emily watched with a wild little glint in her eyes, sipping her drink with deliberate calm.

Jessica stood, brushing her shorts back into place, then turned toward Emily with a sly grin. “Alright, Em. Truth or dare?”

Emily didn’t flinch. “Dare.”

Jessica licked her lips. “Strip to your underwear.”

Emily’s eyebrows rose—and so did the corner of her mouth. “I’m not wearing a bra,” she said, casually.

Ron’s eyes sharpened. The flames danced in his gaze.

Jessica didn’t miss a beat. “Perfect.”

Without breaking eye contact, Emily stood, setting her drink down beside her. She reached for the hem of her knotted graphic tee and pulled it up slowly, revealing smooth, bronzed skin, her curves catching the firelight in a way that made both Ron and Jessica momentarily stop breathing.

The shirt slipped over her head and onto the chair. No bra. No hesitation.

Her full, soft breasts swayed gently with the motion, nipples already pebbled in the cool night air. Then she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and slid them down her hips—inch by inch—until they dropped to the deck with a soft rustle. All that remained was a black thong, the kind that barely stayed on, and long, tanned legs that didn’t quit.

She stood there, proud, eyes locked on both of them. “Happy now?”

Ron looked like a man about to break every rule he ever pretended to follow.

Jessica just grinned and reached for her drink. “Your turn to ask.”

Emily bent to pick up her glass, completely unbothered by her state of undress, and turned to Ron, her voice velvet-soft and laced with challenge.

“Truth or dare?”

Ron leaned back in his chair for a moment, eyes dragging slowly over Emily’s bare body like he was taking in a piece of art. His gaze lingered—on the soft curve of her breasts, the way her thong hugged her hips, the light sheen of heat glowing on her skin.

“Emily,” he said, voice low and smooth, “you are absolutely stunning.”

Emily smiled, unbothered by the compliment—she wore it like perfume, warm and intimate. “Your turn,” she said, raising her glass slightly. “Truth or dare?”

Ron didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, eyes sparkling with wicked delight. “I dare you to strip Jessica down.”

Jessica let out a slow, sultry laugh. “Well, that’s just not even a punishment.”

She stepped toward him without needing to be asked twice, her eyes flicking between Emily and Ron, already flushed from anticipation.

“And just so you know,” she added, voice playful, “I’m not wearing a bra either.”

Ron grinned, standing to meet her.

“Of course you’re not,” he murmured, stepping close, large hands hovering just inches from her shirt. He let the moment build, teasing her with his presence before his fingers dipped under the hem of her tee. “You want me to take my time, or rip it off?”

Jessica bit her lip. “Dealer’s choice.”

He slid the fabric up slowly, revealing inch by inch of toned belly, the soft slope of her ribs, and finally—her breasts. Full, firm, already reacting to the cool night air and the heat in his touch. He let the shirt drop from his hands, then let his fingers skim just under the curves.

“Pretty little thing,” he murmured, thumb brushing against one stiff nipple.

Jessica gasped softly, eyes fluttering closed for a breath, her hips shifting slightly forward.

Then Ron leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to her collarbone as his hands dropped to the button of her shorts.

Emily watched from her chair, legs crossed, one hand curled around her drink while her other slipped idly across her thigh. “Take your time,” she said with a little smirk. “We’re enjoying the show.”

Ron popped the button open, dragged the zipper down, and slowly—torturously—peeled the shorts from Jessica’s hips, leaving her in a soft gray thong that framed her perfectly. He let his hands trace down her sides as he stepped back, admiring his work.

Jessica looked flushed, bare, and wickedly pleased.

Ron took a sip of his drink again like nothing was out of the ordinary, then gestured toward the chair beside Emily.

“Your move, Jess.”

Jessica’s skin was already glowing, her cheeks pink, her chest rising and falling just a little faster as she turned toward Ron with a flushed smile. “Dare,” she said, almost breathless.

Ron took a slow sip of his drink, eyes flicking from Jessica to Emily, then back again. “I dare you,” he said, voice smooth as aged whiskey, “to make out with Emily for ten full seconds.”

Emily grinned instantly, her dark curls bouncing as she shifted back in her chair and patted her lap. “Come here, baby.”

Jessica didn’t hesitate. She straddled Emily with a low laugh, their bare thighs brushing, breasts pressing together softly as she settled in, her hands finding Emily’s waist. Emily’s arms wrapped lazily around her, fingertips skating up Jessica’s spine.

Their faces were close, breath mingling, mouths already half-parted with anticipation.

Ron set his drink aside and stood slowly. As the girls’ lips met, he slid off his shirt, revealing a lean, toned torso dusted with dark hair. The firelight flickered across his chest and arms, highlighting every muscle as he moved. He undid his belt, popped the button of his jeans, and slid them down until he stood in only tight black boxer-briefs, the outline of his arousal clear, heavy, undeniable.

His voice dropped into a soft, amused murmur.

“One…”

Jessica moaned softly into Emily’s mouth, their kiss deepening instantly.

“Two…”

Emily’s hands slid up Jessica’s bare back, fingers splaying wide, then drifting lower again.

“Three…”

Jessica’s hands were bolder now, cupping Emily’s full breasts, thumbs grazing over sensitive peaks as their mouths moved hungrily.

“Four…”

Ron watched, eyes dark, one hand adjusting himself absently through the tight cotton as he counted.

“Five…”

Jessica shifted her hips slightly, grinding gently into Emily’s lap, both of them gasping into each other’s mouths.

“Six… seven…”

Emily tugged at Jessica’s bottom lip with her teeth, and the redhead whimpered, pressing closer, chest to chest, heat to heat.

“Eight…”

Their hands tangled in each other’s hair, their kisses messy, hot, open-mouthed.

“Nine…”

Jessica broke just long enough to breathe, then dove back in for one last kiss, tongue meeting Emily’s with a soft, needy sigh.

“Ten.”

They pulled back just slightly, eyes dazed, lips kiss-swollen, both of them giggling breathlessly as their bodies stayed tangled.

Ron’s voice was thick with hunger now. “Well,” he murmured, stepping closer, “that might’ve been the best ten seconds of my life.”

Jessica turned her head, still perched in Emily’s lap, and smirked. “It’s only just getting started.”

Emily’s hands slid down Jessica’s sides as the redhead still straddled her lap, both of them warm and flushed from their kiss. Her lips brushed Jessica’s ear, voice thick and low.

“My turn,” Emily murmured, trailing her fingers over the swell of Jessica’s ass. “Dare.”

Jessica pulled back, breathless and grinning. “Hit me.”

Emily locked eyes with Ron, then looked back to Jessica, her voice dripping with heat. “I dare you to get on your knees… and use that pretty mouth to make Ron feel good.”

Jessica let out a breathy laugh, her cheeks burning—but not from embarrassment.

“That a challenge?” she teased.

Ron raised an eyebrow, adjusting himself through the tight stretch of his boxers. “You sure you two want to do this out here?”

Emily leaned back, completely bare and radiant under the patio lights, one hand still resting on Jessica’s hip. “Why go inside?” she said, eyes glinting. “Maybe someone’ll come out, glance over the fence… maybe they’ll get a show.”

Jessica grinned as she slipped off Emily’s lap and dropped to her knees in front of Ron, the wooden deck warm beneath her skin. “Hope they like it rough,” she murmured.

Ron let out a low groan as Jessica’s hands gripped the waistband of his boxers, slowly tugging them down to free his thick, aching length. He was already hard, heavy, flushed at the tip. Jessica licked her lips as she stared up at him, teasing him with her breath before she even touched him.

“Goddamn,” Ron muttered, one hand slipping into her hair, gripping lightly. “You two really don’t give a fuck, do you?”

Emily stayed in her chair, legs parted lazily, one hand brushing over her own inner thigh as she watched with hooded eyes. “Nope,” she purred. “We like being watched.”

Jessica’s mouth finally wrapped around him, slow and wet and hungry. She hollowed her cheeks as she took him deeper, her eyes never leaving his. Ron’s head tilted back, his hips twitching forward on instinct.

“Fuck, Jessica,” he growled, his voice a ragged rasp.

She moaned around him, lips sliding down his length again and again, her hands gripping his thighs, steadying herself as she built a rhythm. Sloppy, hot, sinful.

The sound of it—wet and raw—mingled with the soft crackle of the fire, the faint music still playing inside the house, and the distant possibility of a neighbor stepping out, catching the sight of a gorgeous girl on her knees with her mouth full, and another lounging naked nearby, touching herself to the view.

Ron’s abs tightened, his hand tightening in her curls.

Emily slipped her fingers between her thighs now, watching her friend with a wicked little smile.

“Ten seconds wasn’t nearly enough,” she whispered to herself, her voice drowned by Jessica’s soft, desperate moans as she worked Ron deeper and rougher, loving every filthy second of it.

Ron’s hips flexed gently into Jessica’s mouth, his breathing uneven now as she worked him with slow, eager strokes, her tongue swirling, lips slick and perfect. His hand stayed tangled in her hair, fingers tightening just enough to remind her who she belonged to in that moment.

But his eyes—dark and blazing—were locked on Emily.

She was spread out on the patio chair, one hand still between her thighs, the other palming her breast, watching with parted lips and flushed cheeks as Jessica devoured him.

Ron’s voice cut through the night, low and rough. “Get over here, Emily.”

She paused, lips curling into a smirk. “Yeah?”

He leaned back into the cushioned patio couch, guiding Jessica with him, never once pulling her off his cock. “You shouldn’t be sitting on the sidelines,” he said, dark and sharp with hunger. “Come sit on my mouth. I want to taste how wet watching this made you.”

Emily’s breath caught. Her thighs pressed together for half a second—then she stood, smooth and proud, her curves bathed in soft golden light from the string lights above.

She crossed the deck slowly, hips swaying, her eyes locked on his as she stepped around Jessica, who was still on her knees between his legs, her cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with arousal and approval.

Emily climbed onto the couch with deliberate grace, straddling Ron’s broad chest, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his head. She hovered just above his mouth, teasing, her slick heat inches from his lips.

“You sure?” she asked, voice wicked.

Ron’s hands left Jessica’s hair for a moment, gripped Emily’s thighs tight, and dragged her down onto his mouth without another word.

Emily gasped, one hand shooting out to brace herself on the back of the couch, the other fisting into Ron’s hair. His tongue was relentless, thick and deep and filthy, already lapping at her like he’d been starving for it.

Jessica moaned at the sight, licking her lips before diving back down onto his cock, now slicker, harder, and twitching with every sound Emily made above him.

The night was thick with moans and wet sounds, with firelight flickering across three flushed, panting bodies—two girls writhing against an older man who handled them like they were made to be used just like this.

If anyone looked over the fence now, they wouldn’t just catch a glimpse.

They’d see everything.

And not one of them gave a damn.

Emily tried to stay quiet—she really did—but Ron’s tongue worked her with such filthy precision, she couldn’t help the soft, shaky moan that slipped past her lips.

She bit down on her knuckle, her hips grinding slowly against his mouth, each roll smoother, wetter, more desperate. His grip on her thighs tightened as he groaned into her pussy, the vibration sending another ripple of pleasure through her.

“F-fuck, Ron,” she whispered, her voice broken and breathless. “You feel so good. So fucking good…”

Below them, Jessica was putting on her own show.

Still kneeling between Ron’s spread legs, her lips wrapped tight around the head of his cock, cheeks hollowed with every pull. Her hand worked at the base in smooth, rhythmic strokes, fingers slick with spit and arousal as she milked every inch she couldn’t take with her mouth. She sucked harder, deeper, lips stretched wide, tongue working in sync with her hand, determined to make him lose control.

Emily looked down through half-lidded eyes, watching the redhead’s head bob up and down. Her lips curled darkly.

“You’re doing great, baby,” she murmured to Jessica, voice thick and low. “Look at you. So hungry for him.”

Jessica moaned in response, the sound muffled around Ron’s length, and doubled down—swirling her tongue harder, taking him deeper, her hand never slowing.

Ron growled against Emily’s dripping core, his hands now gripping her ass, holding her down as he licked her like she was his last meal. Her thighs trembled, her toes curling against the cushion. She reached down, sliding her fingers into Jessica’s hair, threading through the damp strands as she rocked her hips down onto Ron’s mouth.

The girls moved like they were synced to the same rhythm—Jessica working hard and wet between his legs, Emily grinding against his face, both moaning, flushed, dripping, caught in the heat of it all.

And somewhere in the back of their minds was still the thrill of it: the open air, the quiet houses just beyond the fence, the possibility of being seen and not caring at all.

Because nothing existed outside this moment.

Just sweat. Skin. Mouths. Need.

And Ron, worshiping one while being worshiped by the other. Ron’s lips were slick and glistening, his face flushed and focused as Emily shuddered above him, her fingers tangled in his hair. Her body trembled with every roll of her hips, her thighs slick and tight around his head.

Then, with a slow growl against her skin, Ron eased her upward, his hands firm around her waist. “Switch with her,” he said roughly, voice dark and commanding, nodding to Jessica still kneeling at his feet.

Jessica’s eyes lit up, lips swollen and wet, and she moved without hesitation. Ron caught her wrist and pulled her toward him as he leaned back into the cushions, spreading his legs wider, guiding her into his lap.

She straddled him with a soft gasp, her thighs settling on either side of his hips, Ron’s large hands gripping her tightly—one on each curve of her waist. She sank down onto him slowly, and her breath caught hard, eyes fluttering shut as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Jesus,” she whispered, voice trembling. “So full…”

Ron grinned, his thumbs stroking her hips as he pulled her down all the way. “That’s it,” he growled. “Take every inch. You feel that?”

Jessica could only nod, her head falling forward onto his shoulder as she adjusted, overwhelmed, surrounded by him—his hands, his body, the weight of him inside her.

Emily knelt beside them now, panting, her skin flushed, her thighs trembling. Ron reached out with one hand and gave her a sharp slap on her ass—her soft, round cheeks bouncing lightly under his palm.

She gasped, hips jerking forward, and Ron didn’t give her a moment to recover. He leaned forward, mouth finding that spot just below the curve of her thigh, where her nerves were still alight from the attention moments ago. He sucked hard, tongue working mercilessly, pulling another cry from her lips.

Emily gripped the arm of the couch, her knees weak, every nerve ending raw and alive.

Jessica began to move in his lap, hips rolling gently, rhythm building slowly as she lost herself in the feeling of being taken, held, filled completely.

The air buzzed with heat, tension, and something almost sacred—three bodies tangled together under the stars, a man fully in control, and two women desperate to give him everything. Jessica began to move in Ron’s lap, slowly at first—testing the pace, adjusting to the depth—but soon her rhythm grew bolder. She ground down against him, her hands planted on his chest, her body rising and falling with delicious tension. Her head tipped back, hair spilling down her spine, her breath catching in little gasps as her body gave in to every deep movement.

Her chest lifted with every bounce, soft curves swaying with the rhythm, catching the light from above like something sacred and forbidden all at once.

Ron’s hands roamed up her back, gripping, guiding, steadying her as she moved. He growled softly, the sound deep in his throat, raw with approval.

Beside them, Emily clung to the edge—eyes wild, face flushed, still trembling from Ron’s mouth on her.

But it wasn’t enough.

She slid closer, breathless and desperate, and Ron met her halfway, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her to him. His mouth captured hers in a hungry, messy kiss, one hand moving between her thighs—sliding two thick fingers inside her with no warning, deep and possessive.

Emily screamed, her body jolting, her nails digging into his shoulder as she pulled his hair hard, anchoring herself in the intensity. Her cries were sharp, shameless, and they only made Jessica move harder, grinding down against him like she couldn’t help herself.

“You two…” Ron growled against Emily’s mouth, voice low and dirty. “You’re so fucking desperate for it. I can feel it—taste it.”

His fingers thrust deep into Emily, curling expertly as she gasped again, her entire body tensing.

“You like putting on a show, don’t you?” he muttered darkly, eyes flicking between them. “Moaning like that where the neighbors might hear. Filthy little things.”

Jessica whimpered, bouncing harder now, her body flushed, lips parted as she fought to stay in control—but she was unraveling. Fast.

Emily was already gone, writhing on Ron’s hand, her moans tumbling out without care. She clung to his wrist, trembling as he drove her toward that breaking point, voice in her ear like a spell she couldn’t resist.

“You’re both going to come for me,” he growled, breath hot and heavy. “Not when you want to—when I say. You’re mine tonight. You hear me?”

Both girls nodded, dazed, falling apart in sync—one grinding down on his lap, the other squirming on his hand—moaning his name into the firelit dark.

And Ron?

Ron watched them both with fire in his eyes and a grin that said he was just getting started. Jessica was trembling now, completely lost in the rhythm of her body. Her thighs burned, her movements desperate and unrestrained, and still she moved—grinding harder against Ron, riding the wave as it crested just beneath her skin.

Ron’s hands suddenly gripped her hips hard, fingers digging in, holding her down as he thrust up to meet her, his control finally snapping. A deep growl tore from his chest, almost primal, as he buried himself in her again and again, chasing that final edge.

Emily gasped, still perched beside him, her head thrown back, fingers clenched in the cushions as Ron’s hand worked her mercilessly. She came with a cry, her body tightening around his fingers, thighs clenching, hips rolling through every wave. Her scream was raw and honest—beautiful in its wildness.

Jessica wasn’t far behind. She collapsed forward into Ron’s chest, her breath hitching in stuttered moans as her body gave out, shaking hard, falling apart in his lap. Her hands clutched his shoulders as she ground through the last desperate pulses of her release.

Ron’s jaw clenched, his breath catching, and then he lost it.

With a rough shout, his fingers dug into Jessica’s waist, slamming her down onto him as he came hard, hips twitching beneath her, body tense with the force of it. He held her there, chest to chest, trembling, buried deep, sweat beading at his brow.

And even in the haze of it all—his voice still came low, dark, and full of grit.

“That’s it,” he growled. “You listen so fucking well. Both of you… so good for me.”

Jessica whimpered against his neck, still shaking. Emily leaned into his side, pressing kisses to his jaw, her eyes soft and dazed.

For a long moment, the only sounds were breath and the slow crackle of the patio fire.

They didn’t need words.

Just the weight of each other.

And the knowledge that no one was ever walking away from this the same.

The fire crackled softly beside them, casting flickers of orange and gold across their flushed, tangled bodies. The cool night air settled on damp skin, raising goosebumps—but none of them moved away.

Ron sat back into the couch, chest rising and falling slowly, arms stretched out as both girls curled against him—Jessica draped across his lap, her head resting on his shoulder, and Emily tucked in at his side, her cheek pressed against his chest, fingers drawing lazy circles on his skin.

They were quiet for a moment, just letting the silence fill in the cracks—letting breath return, letting hearts slow. Then Jessica let out a quiet, breathy laugh against his neck.

“Jesus,” she whispered. “That was… amazing.”

Emily giggled softly, turning her head to press a slow kiss to Ron’s collarbone. “We’re definitely coming back next Thursday.”

Ron chuckled, voice low and gravel-thick, his hands stroking up and down their bare backs in slow, grounding motions. “You think I’m letting you leave after that?”

The girls smiled against him, warm and spent and glowing.

“I hope you know,” he added, glancing down at both of them, “we’ve got all night.”

Jessica hummed, nestling closer. “Mmm, yeah?”

Ron grinned darkly, a spark reigniting in his eyes as he ran his hand down to Emily’s thigh, squeezing gently.

“I’m not done with either of you yet.”

Emily looked up, lips parting in a slow smile. “Good.”

Jessica shifted slightly in his lap, her voice playful, teasing. “We were hoping you’d say that.”