Chapter 5: Safe Departure
The doorknor twisted, then rattled again with more force. “Dad? You in there? The door’s locked.”
Jason’s body went rigid, a statue of guilt carved from sweat and sin. Every muscle clenched, freezing him in the act of pulling away from May. His heart wasn’t beating; it was vibrating against his ribs, a trapped bird of pure panic. He could see the shadow of feet under the gap in the door.
Liv’s hand clamped over his mouth, stifling his gasp. Her other hand, slick from her own juices, pressed down on the back of his head, forcing him to stay low, hidden by the rumpled mountain of bedding. Her eyes, wide and furious with concentration, locked onto his. She shook her head once, a sharp, imperious command. Silence.
May didn’t move. She remained on her hands and knees, face buried in the sheets, her back arched. She held herself perfectly still, a tableau of submission, every breath a conscious, controlled effort. Coco, with an instinct for mischief that overrode fear, slowly, silently, rolled off the bed and melted to the floor on the side opposite the door. She vanished from view.
“Jason?” His daughter’s voice was closer, right against the wood. “You okay? I heard a noise.”
He tried to swallow, his throat parched. Liv’s palm tasted of salt and sex. He stared at the door, imagining her just inches away, separated only by a slab of aged olive wood. His mind screamed with images: the door swinging open, this scene of tangled, naked bodies, the smell, the evidence dripping from them.
“Maybe he’s in the shower,” another voice called—his daughter’s roommate, from further down the hall. “The water’s on?”
It was the faint sound of the shower from the en-suite bathroom, left running from their earlier, more innocent preparations.
A pause. “Yeah, must be,” his daughter said, her voice fading as she stepped back. “We’ll find the key later. Let’s go grab a frappé.”
The footsteps receded.
The silence that followed was absolute and deafening. It was broken by Liv slowly removing her hand from his mouth. She let out a long, shaky breath he hadn’t realized she’d been holding. A wild, unholy grin spread across her face.
“Fuck,” she whispered, the word tinged with exhilaration. “That was close.”
May collapsed onto her stomach, her body going limp. A weak, incredulous laugh bubbled out of her. Coco popped up from behind the bed, her eyes blazing with excitement. “Oh my god, that was so hot,” she hissed. “I came again a little. I swear I did.”
Jason couldn’t speak. The adrenaline crash left him hollow, trembling. He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, the taste of terror still metallic on his tongue. The arousal was gone, replaced by a cold, creeping shame. He had almost destroyed his daughter’s world for a few moments of delirious friction.
Liv studied his face. The grin faded, replaced by something calculating. She traced a finger down his sternum. “You see?” she murmured. “Nothing happened. We’re fine. You’re fine.”
“I can’t do this,” he choked out, his voice raw.
“You just did,” May said quietly from beside him. She turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were soft, understanding. “And you loved it. The fear makes it real. It makes you feel alive.”
“It makes me feel sick.”
“Good,” Liv said, standing up. Her naked body was a powerful argument in the brilliant sunlight. “That sickness is the price. Now get up. Shower. Your daughter is waiting for her frappé.”
The next two days were a masterclass in compartmentalization. He was Jason, the supportive dad, at team dinners, cheering from the stands during their first matches, taking pictures with his arm around his beaming daughter. He laughed, he asked about plays, he applied sunscreen to her shoulders like he had when she was ten.
And then, in the stolen margins, he was theirs.
A hand brushing his crotch under a restaurant table. A whispered promise in a darkened corridor after curfew. A shared look across the pool that carried the memory of his mouth on them. It was a secret current running beneath the surface of the tournament, and he was drowning in it.
Now, at the airport, the tournament was over. His daughter’s team had lost in the semi-finals. The goodbye was a whirlwind of tears and hugs and promises to text. He stood at the large window of the VIP lounge, watching her plane—a sleek, silver bird—accelerate down the runway and lift into the vast Greek sky. A profound loneliness settled into the space she left behind, hollowing him out.
The lounge was a capsule of muted luxury. The low hum of refined conversation, the clink of fine china, the soft glow of brass lamps. It felt surreal, a sterile waiting room between realities.
He felt a presence at his shoulder before he saw her. Liv. She slipped her hand into his, her fingers cool and sure.
“She’s going to have a great time at that soccer camp,” Liv said softly, her eyes also on the diminishing plane.
Before he could answer, he felt another touch. May stood on his other side, her body lightly pressed against his arm. Her lips found his earlobe, her tongue tracing the sensitive curve. “You did good, Dad,” she whispered, her breath warm.
His body responded instantly, traitorously, the loneliness curdling into a different kind of ache. He closed his eyes.
A third set of hands slid around his waist from behind. Coco. She rested her chin on his shoulder, her blonde hair tickling his neck. “And now,” she singsonged, her voice a delighted murmur only he could hear, “you’re all alone.”
Liv’s hand, still in his, guided his palm to her thigh, under the sleek fabric of her dress. She wasn’t wearing underwear. The heat of her skin seared his own. She shifted his hand upward, forcing his fingers to press against the damp thatch of curls between her legs.
He gasped, his eyes flying open. Around them, a businessman typed on a laptop, an older couple sipped champagne, a flight attendant glided past with a pot of coffee. No one looked.
“Don’t stop looking out the window,” Liv commanded, her voice low and steady. Her hips made a tiny, imperceptible movement, grinding against his trapped hand. “Watch her plane until it’s gone.”
Tears, unbidden and furious, pricked at the corners of his eyes. He stared at the speck in the blue, his fingers moving of their own volition, tracing Liv’s swollen folds through the slickness. He could feel her heat, the firm nub of her clit.
May’s mouth was on his neck now, sucking lightly, leaving a mark she knew his collar would hide. Coco’s hands undid his belt buckle with silent efficiency. The zipper purred down.
“We’re staying,” Coco breathed into his ear. “All month. We rented a yacht. Just us.” Her small hand slipped into his open trousers, wrapping around his hardening cock. Her touch was confident, possessive. “A whole month with no one to interrupt us.”
Liv increased the pressure of his hand against her, a silent demand. He rubbed her, two fingers slipping inside her with ease. She was soaking wet. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her breathing shallow. “That’s it,” she moaned, so quiet it was almost a vibration. “Fuck me with your fingers while you watch her leave you.”
The plane became a tiny dot, then vanished into the haze.
Something in him broke then. Not a snap, but a dissolution. The last tether of resistance, the final frayed thread of the man he was supposed to be, dissolved into the perfumed, pressurized air of the lounge.
He turned from the window, pulling his hand from Liv’s dress, ignoring her soft noise of protest. He looked at the three of them, their faces flushed with anticipation. He saw no mockery now, only a hungry, shared purpose. They were his reality now.
“Where?” he asked, his voice a graveled whisper.
Liv’s eyes gleamed. She nodded towards a discreet door near the back of the lounge, marked ‘Wellness Suite’. “Private shower room. For first-class passengers.”
They moved as a unit, a silent, purposeful parade through the plush carpeting. Liv opened the door without knocking. Inside was a small, opulent bathroom of marble and polished chrome, with a large glass-walled shower.
The door clicked shut, locking out the world.
The pretense fell away. Liv pushed him against the cool marble sink, her mouth crashing onto his. It was a kiss of ownership, deep and bruising. Her hands ripped at his shirt buttons. May knelt before him, taking him from Coco’s grip and into her mouth in one smooth, deep swallow. He cried out, the sound echoing off the tiles.
Coco turned on the shower, steam quickly fogging the glass. She stripped, her clothes a puddle on the floor, and stepped under the spray, watching them with a wicked smile.
Liv broke the kiss, yanking his shirt off. “On your knees,” she ordered, turning her back to him. She bent over, bracing her hands on the sink, presenting herself. “Right here. Now.”
He dropped. The marble was hard against his knees. He buried his face between her ass cheeks, his tongue driving into her without finesse, without romance. He ate her with a desperate, furious hunger, the way a starving man attacks a meal. Her taste—musky, sharp, uniquely her—flooded his senses. He lapped at her clit, sucked it, fucked her with his tongue. She groaned, her hands white-knuckled on the sink edge.
May rose, wiping her mouth. She moved behind Liv, kissing her shoulder, cupping her breasts. Their eyes met over Liv’s back, a shared, complicit look.
Liv reached back, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “Enough,” she panted. “I want your cock. I want you to fuck me raw in this filthy little room.”
He stood, his legs unsteady. He was painfully hard, throbbing. He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips. He pushed into her with one long, savage thrust. She was so wet, so ready, she took him to the hilt in a single stroke. They both gasped.
He fucked her like that, bent over the sink, each impact driving her into the marble. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, their ragged breaths, and the hiss of the shower. He watched himself disappear into her, again and again, the sight obscene and mesmerizing.
Coco emerged from the shower, steam wreathing her body. She was glistening, her blonde hair plastered to her shoulders. She walked to May, who was watching, her hand drifting between her own legs. Without a word, Coco turned May to face the wall, bent her over beside Liv, and sank to her knees behind her.
Jason glanced over, his rhythm never breaking. He saw Coco’s tongue lap at May from behind, her face buried in the dark triangle of hair. May’s head fell back, a low, continuous moan escaping her lips.
“Harder,” Liv begged, her voice shaking with each of his thrusts. “Don’t you dare hold back. Give it all to me.”
He obeyed. He grabbed her hips and slammed into her, each drive a punishment for his loneliness, his guilt, his complicity. The sink rattled against the wall. The mirror fogged. He was a machine of need, of vengeance against his own decency.
Liv’s orgasm hit suddenly. She stiffened, a choked scream tearing from her throat as she clenched around him, milking his cock in rhythmic, pulsing waves. The sensation pushed him over the edge.
He pulled out just as he erupted, his come spraying in thick, white stripes across the small of her back, her ass, the base of her spine. He grunted, animalistic, as he emptied himself onto her skin.
He stumbled back, spent, leaning against the foggy glass shower wall. Liv remained bent over the sink, gasping, his release dripping down her thighs.
Coco stood up from behind May, her chin glistening. She looked at the scene: Liv marked by him, Jason panting and defeated, May trembling with unmet need. Her mischievous grin returned.
“My turn,” Coco said brightly, stepping towards him. She pushed him until he was sitting on the plush toilet seat, his back against the tank. She didn’t ask. She simply straddled him, guiding him into her with a sigh of pure delight. She was tight, slick from the shower and her own arousal. She began to ride him, slow and deep, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes locked on his.
From the sink, Liv turned, her eyes dark. She watched for a moment, then dropped to her knees in front of Coco. She leaned in, her tongue snaking out to lick the place where their bodies joined, tasting the mix of her own fluids and Coco’s. Then she focused on Coco’s clit, sucking it into her mouth as Coco bounced on his lap.
May came over, her need palpable. She knelt beside Liv, her mouth finding Jason’s, sharing the taste of all of them. Her hand slid between her own legs, frantically circling as she watched her friends devour each other.
It was too much. The sight, the sensations, the raw, unvarnished filth of it. Jason’s hands grabbed Coco’s ass, helping her move, driving up into her. He was hard again, impossibly, fueled by a deep well of corrupt energy. Coco’s cries grew higher, sharper.
“I’m gonna come,” she squealed. “Oh fuck, right there!”
She shattered around him, her body convulsing. The violent clenching of her muscles triggered his second, dry, aching release. He held her against him as the last waves trembled through her.
Silence descended, broken only by the drumming of the shower and their labored breaths. The air was thick with steam and sex.
Liv stood up, wiping her mouth. She looked at Jason, a man broken open and remade on a bathroom floor seven thousand miles from home. She picked up his discarded suit jacket from the floor and handed it to him.
“Our flight to Mykonos boards in forty minutes,” she said, her voice now clean of passion, pure business. “Clean yourself up. The yacht is waiting.”
She turned and stepped into the shower, the water sluicing his release from her skin. Coco slowly climbed off him, her legs wobbly. May offered him a hand, her touch gentle.
He took it, pulling himself up. He looked at his reflection in the clearing mirror. A stranger with hollow eyes and his daughter’s plane ticket stub sticking out of his ruined shirt pocket stared back.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he turned on the tap, and began to wash.