Chapter 37: The Dream That Wakes Her
The last traces of the vision faded like smoke in a breeze—the silver-haired girl with Diego's eyes, the dark-haired boy with Ben's grin, the small girl with Jess's sharp features—all of them dissolving into the warm darkness of the guest room.
Mandy's eyelids grew heavy.
The weight of the day pressed down on her—the chaos of the Consortium, the terror of nearly losing her parents, the strange and beautiful convergence of bodies on the beach. Her limbs were tangled with the others: Mike's arm heavy across her stomach, Casey's breath warm on her shoulder, Beth's leg hooked over hers, Rachel's red hair spread across the pillow like spilled wine.
She closed her eyes.
And she dreamed.
The bedroom was a furnace.
Not the gentle warmth of the Miami night—this was something else entirely, a heat that pressed against her skin from all directions, that filled her lungs with every breath, that made the air itself feel thick and liquid. The walls seemed to pulse with it, the shadows dancing in rhythm with the sounds that filled the space.
Moans.
Wet, urgent, desperate sounds that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Mandy stood in the doorway—or what she thought was a doorway—and watched.
Mike was behind Beth, his hands gripping her hips, his cock buried deep inside her with every thrust. His belly pressed against her lower back, the soft flesh of his stomach meeting the curve of her spine. His grey-streaked hair was wild, his face flushed, his mouth open in a silent groan of pleasure.
Beth's short blonde hair was a tangled mess. Her hands were fisted in the sheets—when had there been sheets?—and her back arched like a bow, her small breasts swaying with every impact of her father's hips against her ass.
"Fuck," Beth gasped. "Fuck, Dad, that's—"
"I know," Mike growled. "I know, baby."
Rachel was above Casey.
The redhead was straddling Casey's face, her hips rolling in a slow, deliberate grind, her thighs clamping around Casey's ears. Her red hair was a wild mane, spilling over her shoulders and down her back, and her grey eyes were rolled back so far they were almost white.
Casey's hands were on Rachel's ass, her fingers digging into the pale flesh, her tongue working against Rachel's cunt with a dedication that spoke of years of practice.
"Oh, God," Rachel moaned. "Oh, God, Mrs. Williamson, that's—"
Casey's response was muffled by Rachel's thighs.
But her hips bucked up, and Rachel gasped, and Mandy understood.
The scene shifted.
Mike pulled out of Beth.
His cock was slick and glistening, and Beth whimpered at the loss, her hips pushing back, seeking him. But Mike was already moving, dropping to his knees behind Rachel, his tongue replacing his cock in Beth's cunt.
Rachel's mouth found Beth's.
The two girls kissed—deep and wet and hungry—while Rachel's tongue worked to clean the taste of Mike from Beth's lips. Beth moaned into Rachel's mouth, her hips still twitching with aftershocks, and Rachel swallowed every sound like it was honey.
And Casey was there.
She had crawled out from under Rachel, her face wet with the redhead's juices, her dark hair streaked with silver plastered to her forehead. She positioned herself in front of Mike, her knees spread wide, her hand wrapping around his cock.
She took him deep.
Her cheeks hollowed, her throat working, her eyes fixed on his face with an intensity that made Mandy's breath catch. Mike groaned, his hands finding Casey's hair, his hips pushing forward in small, helpless thrusts.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, Casey, your mouth—"
Casey pulled back just enough to speak.
"Shut up and let me work."
Then she took him deep again.
Mandy stood frozen.
She knew she should look away—knew that this was the kind of thing that should horrify her, should send her running from the room.But she couldn't move. Her feet were rooted to the floor, her eyes fixed on the scene before her, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
And there was something else.
Something hot and tight coiling in her stomach.
Something wet between her thighs.
Casey's voice cut through the haze.
"Don't just stand there, baby." She had pulled back from Mike's cock, her lips swollen and slick, her eyes finding Mandy across the room. "Come here."
Mandy's throat tightened.
"Mom, I—"
"Come here."
It wasn't a request.
Mandy moved.
Her legs carried her forward before her brain could catch up, before she could think about what she was doing or why. She crossed the room in a haze of heat and hunger, her skin prickling with anticipation, her cunt aching with a need she didn't want to name.
Mike was waiting for her.
He had turned away from Casey, his cock still hard and glistening, his eyes dark with something that made Mandy's knees weak. He reached for her, his hands finding her hips, pulling her closer.
And then he was inside her.
Mandy gasped.
It had been years—had it been years?—since she had felt this. Since she had felt the stretch and fill of her father's cock, the delicious pressure of him buried deep inside her. His hands were on her breasts, his mouth on her neck, his hips moving in slow, deliberate thrusts that made her whole body tremble.
"Oh, fuck," she breathed. "Oh, fuck, Dad—"
"I know, Bug." His voice was rough, broken. "I know."
Beth and Rachel were beside her.
She hadn't seen them move—one moment they were on the bed, the next they were flanking her, their mouths finding her nipples, their hands on her skin. Beth's lips were soft, her tongue gentle, and Rachel's teeth were sharp, nipping at the sensitive flesh until Mandy cried out.
"Good girl," Casey whispered.
She was behind Mandy now, her hands on Mandy's shoulders, her lips pressed to Mandy's ear. Her voice was low, filthy, a litany of promises that made Mandy's cunt clench around her father's cock.
"You like that, baby? You like having your daddy inside you while your sisters suck your tits?"
"Yes," Mandy gasped. "Yes, Mom, yes—"
"You want more?" Casey's teeth grazed Mandy's earlobe. "You want us to fuck you until you can't walk? Until you can't think? Until the only thing you remember is the feel of our hands and our mouths and our cocks?"
"Yes. Fuck, yes."
"Then come for us."
Mandy came.
The orgasm ripped through her like a wave—hot and bright and absolutely overwhelming. Her back arched, her toes curled, and a scream tore from her throat—raw and animal and completely beyond her control.
She screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
She snapped awake.
The room was dark.
The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silver shadows across the tangled bodies on the bed. Her family was still wrapped around her—Mike's arm heavy across her stomach, Casey's breath warm on her shoulder, Beth's leg hooked over hers, Rachel's red hair spread across the pillow like blood.
Mandy lay still, her heart pounding.
Her skin was slick with sweat. Her cunt was wet—soaking wet, the kind of wet that came from hours of dreaming, from phantom hands and imagined mouths. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and she could feel the phantom echo of her father's cock inside her, the ghost of her mother's voice in her ear.
She stared at the ceiling.
The dream was still vivid—still present—like a film playing behind her eyes. She could see Mike's face as he thrust into her. Could feel Beth's lips on her nipples, Rachel's teeth on her skin. Could hear Casey's filthy promises, whispered like a prayer.
She should be horrified.
She should be disgusted.
But she wasn't.
She was turned on.
She considered her options.
Calista was in another room with Diego, tangled in their own private world. Rick was on the fold-out couch with Stacy, their quiet breathing a soft counterpoint to the distant crash of waves. Ben and Jess were in her basement room, probably asleep, probably exhausted from the earlier chaos.
Everyone was paired off.
Everyone was content.Except her.
Mandy looked at the bodies around her—the sleeping forms of her parents, her sister, her childhood friend. They were naked. They were warm. They were tangled together in a way that felt cozy and safe and absolutely right.
And she remembered the dream.
She remembered the heat of it. The hunger. The way her body had responded to every touch, every word, every filthy promise. She remembered the way it had felt to be wanted—truly wanted—by the people who loved her most.
She wanted that.
She wanted it to be real.
Mandy's hand moved before she could second-guess herself.
She reached for Mike first.
Her fingers found his cock—soft and warm beneath the sheets—and she wrapped her hand around it, stroking him slowly, gently, feeling him harden under her touch. He stirred, a low sound rumbling in his chest, and she leaned down to press her lips to his neck.
"Daddy," she whispered.
Mike's eyes opened.
He blinked at her, confused for a moment, his grey-streaked hair falling into his face. And then he saw what she was doing—saw her hand wrapped around his cock, saw the hunger in her eyes—and his breath caught.
"Bug," he said. "What are you—"
"Shh." Mandy kissed him before he could finish. "Just let me."
She continued stroking him, her thumb swiping over the head of his cock on every upstroke, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had already gathered there. He was fully hard now, twitching in her grip, and she could feel the heat of him radiating through her palm.
"I had a dream," she whispered against his lips. "A good dream."
Mike swallowed hard.
"What kind of dream?"
Mandy smiled.
"The kind where you fuck me while Mom watches."
Mike's cock jerked in her hand.
She took that as permission.
She moved down his body, her lips trailing over his chest, his stomach, the soft curve of his belly. She kissed the sensitive skin just above his hip, then lower, her tongue tracing the base of his shaft before she took him into her mouth.
Mike groaned.
His hands found her hair, his fingers tangling in the messy brown strands, and his hips pushed up to meet her. She took him deep—deeper than she thought she could—and her throat worked around his length, her cheeks hollowing with every pull.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, Bug, that's—"
She pulled back just enough to speak.
"Shut up and let me work."
The words were familiar—Casey's words, from the dream—and Mike's eyes widened, recognizing them. But before he could react, Mandy was on him again, her mouth working his cock with a hunger that bordered on desperation.
Beside them, Casey stirred.
She rolled over, her dark hair streaked with silver falling across her face, and her eyes slowly focused on the scene beside her. Her daughter with her husband's cock in her mouth. Her husband watching her with something between guilt and pure, unadulterated lust.
Casey raised an eyebrow.
"Well," she said. "This is happening."
Mandy pulled back, her lips slick, her eyes finding her mother's across the dark.
"I had a dream," she said.
Casey smirked.
"A good dream?"
"The best."
Casey laughed.
She propped herself up on one elbow, her other hand reaching out to brush the hair from Mandy's face. Her touch was gentle, almost tender, and Mandy leaned into it like a cat seeking warmth.
"Then let's make it real," Casey said.
And she pulled Mandy up for a kiss.
It was soft at first—gentle, almost exploratory—but it didn't stay that way for long. Casey's tongue slid against Mandy's, her hands finding Mandy's hips, pulling her closer. And Mandy melted into it, her body pressing against her mother's, her skin slick with sweat and arousal.
"I want to watch you fuck her," Casey whispered against Mandy's lips. "Can I watch?"
Mike's breath caught.
"You're serious?"
"I'm always serious about sex." Casey pulled back, her eyes finding Mike's across the tangle of bodies. "You know that."
Mike looked at Mandy.
Mandy looked at Mike.
And Beth stirred.
"Can you two keep it down?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "Some of us are—" She stopped. Her eyes opened. She took in the scene—her father's cock still slick from her sister's mouth, her mother's hands on Mandy's hips, the heat that seemed to radiate from every inch of the bed. "Oh."
"Hey, Lizzy," Casey said.
"Hey, Mom."
"You want in?"
Beth blinked.
She looked at Mandy, whose lips were still swollen and wet. She looked at Mike, whose cock was standing at attention like a soldier waiting for orders. She looked at Casey, whose smirk was pure and unrepentant.
"Yeah," Beth said. "Yeah, I want in."
Rachel was already awake.
She had been awake for most of it—silent and watchful, her grey eyes taking in every detail. The way Mandy had stroked her father's cock. The way Casey had kissed her daughter. The way the heat in the room had built and built until it was almost suffocating.
She had never seen anything like this.
She had never been part of anything like this.
But she wanted to be.
"I want in too," she said.
Everyone turned to look at her.
Rachel's red hair was a tangled mess around her face, and her pale skin was flushed with something that looked like embarrassment and excitement in equal measure. She looked at Mandy, her eyes meeting her childhood friend's.
"Please?"
Mandy smiled.
"Get over here, Ray-Ray."
They rearranged themselves.
Mike ended up on his back, his head propped against the pillow, his cock still hard and waiting. Mandy straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips, her hands braced on his chest. She was wet—so fucking wet—and she could feel the heat of him against her cunt as she positioned herself above him.
"You ready?"she asked.
Mike nodded.
"I've been ready since you wrapped your hand around my cock."
Mandy laughed.
And she sank onto him.
The feeling was exactly like the dream—the stretch, the fill, the delicious pressure of him deep inside her. She gasped, her nails digging into his chest, and she stayed still for a moment, just feeling him.
"Fuck," she breathed. "Fuck, Dad, you feel—"
"I know." His voice was rough. "I know."
Beth and Rachel moved beside them.
Beth's mouth found Mandy's nipple, her tongue circling the hardened tip before she sucked it into her mouth. Mandy moaned, her hips bucking involuntarily, and Mike groaned beneath her.
"Careful," he said. "You keep doing that and I'm not going to last."
"Then don't last." Casey had settled herself at the foot of the bed, her legs spread, her fingers working her own cunt as she watched. "We've got all night."
Rachel's mouth found Mandy's other nipple.
The double sensation was almost too much—Beth on one side, Rachel on the other, their tongues and teeth working her sensitive flesh while Mike's cock filled her over and over. Mandy's hips moved in a steady rhythm, riding her father while her sisters—blood and chosen—sucked her tits.
"Good girl," Casey whispered.
The words were the same as the dream, and Mandy shuddered at the sound.
"You like that, baby? You like having your daddy inside you while your sisters suck your tits?"
"Yes," Mandy gasped. "Yes, Mom, yes—"
"You want more?" Casey's fingers were moving faster now, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "You want us to fuck you until you can't walk? Until you can't think? Until the only thing you remember is the feel of our hands and our mouths and our cocks?"
"Yes.Fuck, yes."
"Then come for us."
Mandy came.
The orgasm ripped through her like lightning—hot and bright and absolutely overwhelming. Her back arched, her toes curled, and a scream tore from her throat—raw and animal and completely beyond her control.
Mike followed a moment later.
His hands gripped her hips, his own hips pushing up as he spilled inside her. His groans were deep and guttural, his body shuddering beneath hers, and Mandy collapsed on top of him, her face buried in his neck.
Beth and Rachel pulled back.
They were both flushed, their lips swollen, their eyes dark with desire. And as they watched Mandy and Mike catch their breath, they turned to each other.
Beth kissed Rachel.
Rachel kissed Beth.
Their tongues slid together—slow and wet and exploratory—tasting each other, tasting Mandy, tasting the salt and sweat of the night. Beth's hands found Rachel's breasts, cupping the small, firm mounds, her thumbs brushing over the nipples.
"You're so pretty," Beth whispered.
"So are you."
"Can I...?"
"Please."
Beth pushed Rachel onto her back.
She spread the redhead's legs, her eyes taking in the sight of Rachel's cunt—pink and wet and absolutely dripping. She had never done this before—never gone down on a girl—but she wanted to. She wanted to taste Rachel. She wanted to make her come.
She lowered her head.
Rachel gasped as Beth's tongue touched her clit.
"Oh, fuck," she breathed. "Oh, fuck, Beth, that's—"
Beth didn't stop.
She licked and sucked, her tongue working the sensitive bundle of nerves with a determination that bordered on obsession. Her fingers found Rachel's entrance, sliding inside—one, then two—and Rachel's hips bucked against her face.
Casey watched.
Her fingers were still working her own cunt, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She watched her daughter eat out her friend, watched Rachel writhe and moan, and she felt her own orgasm building like a wave.
"I'm close," she whispered. "Fuck, I'm so close—"
Mike reached for her.
His hand found her thigh, pulling her toward him, his fingers replacing hers on her clit. He knew exactly how she liked it—the pressure, the rhythm, the way she needed to be touched after twenty years of practice.
Casey came with a gasp.
Her body shuddered, her cunt clenching around nothing, and she collapsed onto the bed beside Mike, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
The room was quiet for a moment.
Just the sound of breathing. The whisper of sheets. The distant crash of waves.
Mandy lifted her head from Mike's neck.
She looked at Casey, at Beth, at Rachel. She looked at the tangled mass of bodies—the sweaty limbs, the flushed faces, the smiles that hovered somewhere between exhausted and utterly sated.
"I love you," she said. "All of you."
Casey smiled.
"We love you too, Bug."
Rachel reached out, her hand finding Mandy's.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For...everything."
Mandy squeezed her hand.
"Get some sleep," she said. "We're going to need it."
They settled into the sheets, their bodies curling together like puzzle pieces. Mike was in the middle now, Casey on one side of him, Mandy on the other, with Beth and Rachel tangled somewhere at their feet.
It was messy.
It was complicated.
It was absolutely perfect.
And as Mandy closed her eyes, the last traces of her dream fading into the warm darkness, she saw them one more time—the future children, the nieces, the nephews, all the lives that would come from this strange and tangled family.
They were still there.
Still waiting.
And Mandy smiled.
Because she knew—now more than ever—that she would do anything to make sure they survived.
Because she knew—now more than ever—that she would do anything to make sure they survived.
The thought settled into her bones like a promise.
She drifted, warm and sated, the weight of her family pressing her into the mattress. Mike's arm was a familiar anchor across her hip. Casey's breath stirred the fine hairs at the back of her neck. Somewhere near her feet, Beth and Rachel had tangled themselves into a single breathing organism of limbs and red-gold hair.
Sleep came for her slowly.
But it didn't come for Casey.
Casey lay awake in the dark, her eyes tracing the faint glow of the enchanted mirror's runes as they pulsed against the ceiling. Her body was satisfied—more than satisfied—but her mind was racing, spinning through images from the night like a slideshow she couldn't turn off.
Mandy's face. Mandy's mouth around Mike's cock. Mandy's hips rolling in that slow, deliberate rhythm that was so much like her own.
And then, unbidden, the other images.
Rick. Her son. His dark hair and kind eyes and the awkward sweetness he'd inherited from his father. She had watched him with Stacy tonight—watched the way he touched her, the way he whispered against her skin—and something had twisted in her gut.
Not disgust.
Not horror.
Something else.
Something she couldn't name.
She turned her head on the pillow.
Mike was awake too, she realized. His breathing had that particular quality—too even, too controlled—that meant he was trying not to disturb her.
"Mike," she whispered.
His eyes opened.
"Yeah?"
"I can't sleep."
He shifted onto his side, his hand finding her hip under the sheets. His touch was warm, familiar, the kind of touch that came from twenty years of sharing a bed.
"What's wrong?"
Casey was quiet for a moment.
She thought about Mandy. About the way Mike had looked when their daughter sank onto his cock. About the way his hands had gripped her hips, the way his groans had filled the room.
She thought about the dream Mandy had described. The one where they all fucked her. The one where Casey had whispered filthy promises in her ear while Mike fucked her from behind.
"I've been thinking," she said.
Mike waited.
"About Mandy."
His body tensed beside her. Just slightly—a tightening of the muscles in his arm, a shift in his breathing. But she felt it.
"What about her?"
"Tonight." Casey's voice was steady. Matter-of-fact. "What we did. What you did."
Mike was silent.
"I'm not upset," she said quickly. "I'm not jealous. I just..." She trailed off, searching for words that wouldn't sound insane. "I've been lying here thinking about it. About her. About how she looked when you were inside her."
Mike's breath caught.
"Casey—"
"I'm not finished." She turned to face him fully, her dark eyes finding his in the dim light. "I've been thinking about what's fair."
"What's fair?"
"You fucked our daughter tonight." The words hung in the air between them, heavy and strange. "You fucked Mandy. And I watched. And I liked it."
Mike swallowed hard.
"I liked it too."
"I know you did." Casey reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "And that's fine. That's good. We've always had a flexible definition of exclusivity. We used to fuck Stacy all the time. Remember?"
Mike nodded slowly.
"I remember."
"So here's my question." Casey's voice dropped, became something softer, more vulnerable. "If you can fuck our daughter... should I be allowed to fuck our son?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Mike stared at her.
His brain—still sluggish from sex and lack of sleep—struggled to process what she was asking. His wife. Their son. Rick.
"You want to fuck Rick?"
"I'm asking if it would be fair."
Mike opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
His first instinct was to say no. Absolutely not. Rick was his son—their son—and there were lines, goddammit, lines that shouldn't be crossed no matter how flexible their definition of exclusivity had become.
But then he thought about Mandy.
He thought about the way she had looked when she sank onto his cock. The way her eyes had rolled back, the way her breath had hitched, the way she had called him Daddy in that voice that was half-girl and half-woman.
He thought about how good it had felt.
And he thought about Stacy.
They had fucked Stacy for years—before Rick, before the time travel, before any of this complicated mess had become their lives. Stacy had been their friend, their lover, their third. They had shared her and enjoyed her and never once felt guilty about it.
That had been fair.
This would be fair too.
"I..." Mike ran a hand through his hair, the grey strands catching in his fingers. "I need to think about this."
Casey waited.
"I mean, it's... it's weird, right? It should be weird."
"It is weird."
"But we're already weird." Mike laughed—a short, incredulous sound. "We're already so far past weird that weird is a distant memory. Mandy sucked my cock tonight. You watched. Beth and Rachel were there. Rachel—the girl who's been missing for a year—ate your pussy while I fucked our daughter."
Casey smirked.
"Your point?"
"My point is..." Mike took a breath. "My point is that I don't have a good reason to say no. Other than the fact that it's our son and it should feel wrong."
"But it doesn't."
"No." Mike's voice was quiet. "It doesn't."
Casey nodded.
She sat up. Swung her legs over the side of the bed. Stood, stretching her arms above her head, her spine cracking in a way that made Mike wince.
"Where are you going?"
"To find Rick."
Mike's heart hammered against his ribs.
"Right now?"
"No time like the present." Casey grabbed a discarded t-shirt from the floor—Mike's, from the look of it—and pulled it over her head. "Stacy's with him. She can vouch for his skills."
Mike sat up.
"Casey, wait—"
She turned back, her expression soft.
"I'll be careful," she said. "I'll be gentle. And if he says no, I'll come right back and we'll pretend this never happened."
"And if he says yes?"
Casey smiled.
"Then I'll come back and tell you all about it."
She leaned down and kissed him—soft and sweet and full of twenty years of love—and then she was gone, padding naked out of the guest room and into the dark hallway beyond.
Rachel watched her go.
She had been awake for most of the conversation—silent and still, her grey eyes half-closed, her breathing carefully even. She had heard every word. The question. The negotiation. The agreement.
And she felt something stir in her chest.
Something that felt a lot like hope.
She turned her head on the pillow.
Beth was awake too, her blue eyes bright in the darkness.
"You heard that?" Rachel whispered.
"Every word."
"Your mom is going to fuck your brother."
"Looks like it."
Rachel was quiet for a moment.
"Can we..." She hesitated, her cheeks flushing. "Can we do that too? Find someone to... play with?"
Beth propped herself up on one elbow.
"Like who?"
"I don't know." Rachel shrugged. "Anyone. Everyone. I've been locked in a vault for a year. I missed...everything."
Beth's expression softened.
"Okay," she said. "Let's go find someone."
Mike was still sitting up when Beth and Rachel stirred beside him.
"Where are you two going?"
"To find playmates," Beth said. "Rachel wants to explore."
Mike looked at Rachel. The redhead's eyes were wide, almost nervous, but there was determination there too. The kind of determination that came from someone who had been denied everything for too long.
"Okay," he said. "Let me help."
He climbed out of bed.
The hallway was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the enchanted mirror's runes bleeding under the door. He led Rachel toward Katrina's room, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.
Katrina's door was ajar.
He pushed it open gently.
The former Golden Wand researcher was sprawled across her bed, her long black hair spread over the pillow like a dark river. She was naked—she always slept naked now, a small rebellion against the modesty she had been forced to maintain in the timeless void—and her dancer's body gleamed in the moonlight.
She stirred as they entered.
"Mike?" Her voice was thick with sleep. "What's—"
"Hey, Katrina." Mike kept his voice low, gentle. "I brought you some company."
Katrina sat up, her storm-grey eyes finding Rachel in the shadows.
"Rachel?"
"Hi." Rachel's voice was small. "I... Beth said I could find someone to... explore with. And I thought maybe..."
She trailed off.
Katrina looked at Mike.
He nodded.
"Be gentle with her," he said. "She's been through a lot."
Then he left them.
He pulled the door mostly shut behind him—just a crack, enough to let in a sliver of light—and stood in the hallway for a moment, listening.
Nothing yet.
Just the soft murmur of voices.
He turned.
Beth had already disappeared toward Calista's room. He could imagine the scene—Calista and Diego tangled together, Beth slipping in beside them, her lips finding Calista's, her hands finding Diego's cock. She had mentioned wanting to test Diego's tongue. And Calista—Calista always tasted like honeysuckle.
He smiled at the thought.
And then he thought about Mai.
Mai, who used to wake him up with blowjobs when she was staying at the Chicago house. Mai, who would crawl into their bed at odd hours with that wicked grin and those clever hands. Mai, who never asked permission and never needed to.
His cock twitched.
He hadn't planned to go find her. But now that he was in the hallway, now that he was hard and wanting and alone, the idea seemed less like a fantasy and more like an inevitability.
He walked toward the living room.
The fold-out couch where Rick and Stacy had been sleeping was empty—Casey had probably found them already—and he padded past the quiet hum of the servers toward the stairs that led up to the main floor.
Mai had claimed one of the upstairs bedrooms. Felicity had the other. And Felicity was probably with Bruce, which meant Mai might be alone.
He climbed the stairs.
His cock was fully hard now, pressed against his thigh with every step. The thought of Mai—her dark skin, her long black hair, her insatiable hunger—was enough to make him ache.
He pushed open the door to her room.
Mai was sprawled across the bed, naked, her face pressed into the pillow. Her breathing was slow and even, and for a moment he just stood there, watching her sleep.
Then he crossed the room.
He climbed onto the bed behind her, his body pressing against her warmth, his cock sliding against the curve of her ass.
Mai stirred.
"Mmm," she murmured. "Mike?"
"Yeah."
She turned her head, her dark eyes finding his in the darkness.
"What time is it?"
"Doesn't matter."
She smiled.
"You woke me up for this?"
"Seems only fair." He kissed her shoulder. "You used to wake me up all the time."
Mai laughed—a low, throaty sound.
"That was different."
"How?"
"I was living in your house." She rolled onto her back, her breasts pressing against his chest. "You were my host. It would have been rude not to."
Mike snorted.
"Rude."
"Very rude." She reached down between them, her fingers wrapping around his cock. "But I suppose I can forgive you."
She stroked him slowly, her thumb swiping over the head, and Mike groaned.
"You're going to make me beg?"
"No." Mai's smile widened. "I'm going to make you fuck me."
She spread her legs.
Mike didn't need any more invitation.
He positioned himself between her thighs, the head of his cock finding her entrance. She was already wet—always wet, always ready—and he sank into her with a groan of pure relief.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, Mai."
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his ass.
"Harder," she said. "I'm not made of glass."
He fucked her harder.
The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard slapping against the wall in a rhythm that was almost violent. Mai's nails raked down his back, leaving red trails, and she bit his shoulder hard enough to leave marks.
"God, yes," she gasped. "That's it, Mike, that's—"
He kissed her.
Her mouth tasted like sleep and cinnamon and something underneath that was pure Mai. Her tongue slid against his, her teeth nipped at his lips, and her hips bucked up to meet every thrust.
He reached down between them, his fingers finding her clit.
She came with a cry.
Her cunt clenched around his cock, her body arching off the bed, her nails digging into his shoulders. Mike fucked her through it, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling and gasping beneath him.
"You didn't come yet," she mumbled.
"I'm not done with you."
She laughed.
"Good."
He pulled out.
She made a sound of protest—cut off when he flipped her onto her stomach and pulled her hips up. He entered her from behind, his hands gripping her waist, his belly slapping against her ass with every thrust.
"Fuck," she groaned. "Fuck, Mike, you're going to break me."
"You said you weren't made of glass."
"I lied."
He laughed.
And he fucked her harder.
Mandy slept alone.
After everyone had scattered—Casey to find Rick, Beth to Calista's room, Mike to Mai's—she had curled up in the middle of the empty bed and closed her eyes.
The sheets still smelled like sex.
Like Mike. Like Casey. Like Beth and Rachel and everything they had done together.
The dream came for her slowly.
She was in a room she didn't recognize—all soft light and warm shadows, the walls covered in photographs and paintings she couldn't quite see. A bed dominated the center, massive and inviting, and on that bed...
Felicity.
Blonde hair spread across the pillows. Blue eyes dark with desire. That shy, sweet smile that had always made Mandy's heart ache just a little.
And Bruce.
Brawny and broad-shouldered, his perpetual stubble scraping against Felicity's skin as he kissed her neck. His hands were on her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples, and Felicity was moaning—that soft, surprised sound she always made when someone touched her just right.
"About time you got here," Felicity said.
Mandy looked down at herself. Naked. Already wet.
"I got here as fast as I could."
Bruce looked up.
His eyes found hers across the room—warm brown, crinkled at the corners, that charming smile that made her want to do terrible things.
"You joining us, then?"
Mandy crossed the room.
She climbed onto the bed between them, her body pressing against Felicity's side, her hand finding Bruce's hip. And then she leaned in and kissed Felicity—soft and slow and sweet.
Felicity melted into it.
Her lips parted, her tongue sliding against Mandy's, her hands finding Mandy's breasts. And Mandy moaned into her mouth, her hips already grinding against Felicity's thigh.
Bruce watched.
His hand slid between them, his fingers finding Mandy's cunt, sliding through the wet heat there. She gasped against Felicity's lips, her hips bucking against his palm.
"Fuck," she breathed. "Bruce—"
"Shh." He kissed her shoulder. "Let me."
He pushed two fingers inside her.
Mandy cried out.
Felicity swallowed the sound, her mouth finding Mandy's again, her tongue claiming every gasp and moan. And Bruce fucked her with his fingers—slow and deep and absolutely relentless—while Felicity's hands roamed her body.
It was everything she had wanted.
It was the future she had seen.
It was perfect.
And then she woke up.
The room was dark. The bed was empty. And her cunt was wet—soaking wet—from a dream she couldn't quite remember.
She lay there for a long moment, her heart pounding, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
And then she smiled.
Because she knew—now more than ever—that she would do anything to make sure they survived.