Chapter 10: The Horny House Reopens
The door slammed shut behind Jan with enough force to rattle the hinges, and she stood there, back pressed against the wood, chest heaving, eyes sweeping across the kitchen like she'd walked into the wrong house entirely.
Which, to be fair, she had.
Eight bodies. Naked. Scattered across linoleum and hardwood like someone had knocked over a box of flesh-colored puzzle pieces and decided to leave them where they landed.
Rembrandt took one look at the chaos and bolted for the cat door, his fluffy Maine Coon tail disappearing through the flap with wounded dignity. VanGogh followed a half-second later, a black blur of offended feline sensibilities.
Godfrey III, sprawled on his dog bed in the corner, didn't even lift his head. Twenty years of this shit. He'd seen it all before.
Jan's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"You started without me."
Casey looked up from where she was straddling Ben on the kitchen table—actually on the table, her knees planted on either side of his hips, his cock buried inside her—and grinned like a teenager caught sneaking cigarettes.
"You were on the phone."
"I was coordinating a rescue operation."
"And now you're not." Casey rolled her hips, slow and deliberate, and Ben made a sound that was halfway between a groan and a prayer. "Problem?"
Jan stood there for a long moment. Her braid had come loose during the drive back, red hair spilling across her shoulders. Her clothes were still damp from the storm, though the storm had been in another state entirely—dimensional travel did strange things to weather patterns. Her eyes moved across the room, cataloging everything.
Mandy on the bench, Jess's fingers still buried between her legs. Mike standing by the refrigerator, his cock in his hand, watching his wife ride a man half her age. Mai and Calista tangled on the rug in front of the fireplace, silver hair and tan skin and the faint shimmer of glamour making the air smell like honey and want.
Katrina sitting on the floor near the counter, her knees drawn up, watching everything with those storm-grey eyes that had seen thirty years of nothing and were now drinking in everything.
"Right," Jan said.
She peeled off her shirt.
It landed on the floor with a wet slap. Her jeans followed. Her underwear—plain black cotton, because she'd given up on sexy underwear somewhere around her thirty-fifth birthday—went next.
"What?" she demanded, when she caught Mandy staring. "You think you're the only one who gets to be naked?"
"You're not—" Mandy started.
"I'm not what?"
"Nothing."
"That's what I thought."
Jan walked into the room like she owned it, because in a way she did. This was her family. These were her people. She'd known Mike and Casey for over twenty years, had watched Mandy grow from a squalling infant into a woman who could make her own mother come with nothing but her tongue. She'd held Katrina's hand while she screamed through her first panic attack after coming back from the void.
She'd earned this.
"Okay," she said, surveying the scene. "Here's what's going to happen."
She pointed at Mandy.
"You. You're going to organize this."
Mandy blinked. "I'm going to—"
"You're the one with the memory. You're the one who knows what everyone wants. So organize."
"I—"
"Or don't." Jan shrugged. "I'm not the boss of you. But if you want my opinion—and you do—Mike's been staring at Jess for the last ten minutes like she's a puzzle he's trying to solve, and Jess has been staring back like she wants to be solved."
Mandy looked at her father.
Mike's face went red. Actually red. The kind of red that started at his neck and climbed all the way to his hairline.
"I wasn't—"
"You were," Casey said, still riding Ben, still grinning. "It's okay. She's hot."
"She's—"
"Young enough to be your daughter, I know. So is Mai. So is Calista. So is half the room." Casey leaned forward, her tits pressing against Ben's chest. "Doesn't seem to have stopped you before."
Mike opened his mouth. Closed it. Took a long drink of his coffee, which had gone cold an hour ago.
"Fine," he said. "Fine."
He set the mug down and crossed the room.
Jess watched him approach with an expression that Mandy recognized—the same expression she'd worn the first time she'd seen Ben naked, the one that said I can't believe this is happening and I want it to happen right now.
"You're Mike Williamson," Jess said.
"Last I checked."
"I've read your file. All of them. Every report the Wands ever filed on you and Casey. The Bentley Ridge incident. The Godfrey situation. The thing with the Meridian Tower in '32."
"Sounds boring."
"It sounds like a fairy tale." Jess's voice was low, almost reverent. "You two are legends. You've been through things that would break most people, and you just—you keep going. You keep being good. You keep loving each other."
Mike's expression softened.
"It's not that impressive," he said. "We just didn't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice."
"Maybe." He reached out, brushed a strand of dark hair from her face. "But when you've got kids—"
"You do what you have to do."
"Yeah."
They stood there, inches apart, the air between them thick with something that wasn't quite words.
Then Mike kissed her.
It wasn't tentative. It wasn't gentle. It was the kiss of a man who'd been watching from the sidelines for too long, who'd been telling himself he wasn't interested, who'd finally admitted he was lying.
Jess melted into him. Her hands came up, gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer. Her tongue slid against his, and she made a sound low in her throat that made Mandy's stomach flip.
"Bedroom," Mandy said.
They didn't hear her.
"Hey."
Mike pulled back, breathing hard. "What?"
"Bedroom. Now. You're not doing this against the refrigerator."
"I wasn't—"
"You were. Go."
Mike looked at Jess. Jess looked at Mike. They moved toward the hallway without another word.
Mandy turned to the rest of the room.
Her mother was still on the table, still riding Ben, but her eyes had followed Mike across the room. There was something in her expression—not jealousy, exactly. Something softer. Something that looked like approval.
"He's wanted that for a while," Casey said.
"He has?"
"Since she showed up at the office last month. He thought I didn't notice." She laughed. "I notice everything."
"Then why didn't you—"
"Because he needed to figure it out on his own." Casey's attention returned to Ben, who was gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. "Now. Where were we?"
Ben made a strangled sound.
"I think," Casey said, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "you were about to fuck me so hard the table breaks."
Mandy watched her mother's hips roll, watched Ben's eyes go wide, watched the way her mother's tits bounced with every movement. She'd seen her share of strange things—had grown up in a house where strange was the baseline—but this was something else.
This was her mother riding her boyfriend on a kitchen table.
And it was turning her on.
"You okay?" Katrina asked.
Mandy turned. Katrina was now sitting on the bench, still naked, still watching. Her fingers had stopped moving, but she hadn't bothered to clean them.
"I'm fine," Mandy said.
"You're blushing."
"I don't blush."
"You're blushing."
"I'm—" Mandy touched her own cheek. It was warm. "Okay, maybe I'm blushing. It's a lot."
"It's a lot."
"But I like it."
Katrina smiled. "Good."
She stood up, took Mandy's hand, and led her to the rug where Mai and Calista were tangled. The two of them had moved past foreplay—Mai was on her back, legs spread, and Calista's face was buried between them, her silver hair a curtain hiding everything.
Mai's eyes were closed. Her mouth was open. Her hips moved in small, desperate circles, grinding against Calista's tongue.
"Room for two more?" Katrina asked.
Mai's eyes snapped open.
"Always," she said.
She reached up, grabbed Jess's wrist, pulled her down. Jess went willingly, laughing, and suddenly the pile of bodies on the rug was a pile of four.
Mandy stood there for a moment, watching.
The air smelled like sex and sweat and the faint sweetness of Calista's glamour. The runes on the countertop were glowing brighter now, pulsing in time with the rhythm of flesh on flesh. Somewhere down the hall, she could hear Mike and Jess—the creak of a bed frame, the thump of a headboard against the wall, the low sounds of two people learning each other's bodies.
Her mother was still on the table. Still riding Ben. Still making those little sounds that Mandy had never imagined she'd hear her mother make.
And Jan—
Jan was watching her.
"Come here," Jan said.
Mandy went.
Jan was leaning against the counter, her braid finally undone, red hair spilling down her back. She was naked, unashamed, her body softer than it had been twenty years ago but still solid, still real. Stretch marks on her thighs. Scars on her arms. A life written in skin.
Katrina was beside her. Mandy hadn't noticed her move, but there she was, pressed against Jan's back, her hands on Jan's hips, her lips on Jan's shoulder.
"She's beautiful," Katrina murmured.
"She's always been beautiful," Jan said.
"I meant Mandy."
Jan's eyes moved over Mandy's body. Slow. Deliberate. Like she was cataloging every curve, every freckle, every inch of skin.
"She's grown up."
"She has."
"I remember when she was born." Jan's voice was soft. "Casey called me from the hospital. She was crying—happy crying. She said, 'Jan, she's perfect. She's absolutely perfect.'"
"I was a mess," Mandy said. "I've seen the pictures."
"You were adorable."
"I looked like a potato."
"A very cute potato."
Mandy laughed. She couldn't help it.
Jan reached out, touched her face. Her fingers were warm, slightly rough—the hands of a woman who worked with them, who cooked and cleaned and fought and held her friends when they cried.
"You don't have to do anything," Jan said. "You know that, right? You can just watch. You can leave. You can—"
"I want to."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
Jan studied her for a long moment. Then she nodded.
"Okay."
She pulled Mandy closer.
Their mouths met.
Jan tasted like coffee and the faint mint of her toothpaste. Her lips were soft, her tongue insistent, and Mandy felt something in her chest loosen—a knot she hadn't known was there, something that had been tied since she'd walked into the kitchen and seen all those bodies.
This was okay. This was good. This was exactly where she wanted to be.
Katrina's hands found Mandy's breasts.
Mandy gasped into Jan's mouth.
"She's sensitive," Katrina observed.
"She's a Williamson," Jan said. "They're all sensitive."
"Is that a family trait?"
"It's a fact."
Katrina's fingers moved, slow and deliberate. She rolled Mandy's nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, and Mandy's knees nearly buckled.
"Easy," Jan said, catching her. "We've got you."
"I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
"I'm—"
"You're shaking. It's okay." Jan guided her down, onto her knees, onto the kitchen floor. The tile was cold, but Mandy barely noticed. "Katrina's going to take care of you."
"She is?"
"She is." Jan looked at Katrina. "Aren't you?"
Katrina's smile was something Mandy had never seen before. Hungry. Knowing. The smile of a woman who'd spent thirty years in nothing and was determined to experience everything.
"I've wanted this," Katrina said, "for a very long time."
"Wanted what?"
"To taste a Williamson woman." She knelt behind Mandy, her body pressing against Mandy's back, her breath warm on Mandy's neck. "I've heard stories. From Jan. From Mike. From Casey, when she's had too much wine. They all say the same thing—you taste like the best thing in the world."
"Th-that's—"
"That's what they say."
Katrina's hand slid down Mandy's stomach. Over her hip. Between her legs.
Mandy's breath caught.
"You're wet," Katrina said.
"I—"
"You're dripping."
"I know."
"Is this for me?"
"Yes."
"Or is it for Jan?"
"Both."
Katrina laughed. Low and dark. "Greedy."
"I learned from the best."
"Did you?"
"My mother's currently riding my boyfriend on the kitchen table. I think I'm allowed to be a little greedy."
Katrina's fingers moved. Slow circles. Mandy's hips jerked, and she heard herself moan—a sound that seemed to come from somewhere outside her own body, somewhere deeper.
"You like that."
"Yes."
"You want more?"
"Yes."
"Then ask."
The words hit Mandy like cold water.
"What?"
"Ask." Katrina's fingers stilled. "Ask for what you want."
"I—"
"Jan won't do anything unless you ask. Neither will I. We're not going to take what you're not willing to give." Her lips brushed Mandy's ear. "So ask."
Mandy's throat tightened.
She looked at Jan. Jan was watching her, still standing, still naked, her body a landscape of curves and scars. Her eyes were kind. Patient. Waiting.
"Please," Mandy said.
"Please what?"
"Please touch me."
"I'm touching you."
"More. Please. I want—"
"What do you want?"
"I want your mouth." The words tumbled out before Mandy could stop them. "I want your mouth on me. I want to feel you—both of you—I want—"
"Okay," Jan said.
She knelt.
---
The floor was cold. Mandy's back was against Katrina's chest, Katrina's legs spread on either side of her, and Jan was between her legs, looking up at her with those bright green eyes.
"You're beautiful," Jan said.
"So are you."
"I'm old."
"You're powerful."
"Same thing."
Jan's mouth found her.
Mandy's head fell back against Katrina's shoulder. Her eyes closed. The world narrowed to the feel of Jan's tongue, the wet heat of her mouth, the way her fingers spread Mandy's folds and explored every inch like she was memorizing it.
Behind her, Katrina whispered filth in her ear.
"You taste so good, don't you? I can smell you from here. You smell like sex. Like want. Like a woman who's been thinking about this for a long time."
"I—"
"Don't lie. I saw the way you looked at her. At the shower. At the table. You've been thinking about this since you walked in the door."
"I've been thinking about it longer than that."
"Have you?"
"Since I was sixteen."
Katrina's breath hitched. "What?"
"I was sixteen. I'd just figured out I liked girls. And Jan was over for dinner, and she was wearing this dress—this red dress—and I couldn't stop staring at her." Mandy's voice was breathless, broken by the rhythm of Jan's tongue. "I thought about her for weeks. Months. I touched myself thinking about her."
"Does she know?"
"She knows now."
Jan's laugh vibrated against Mandy's clit.
"I've known for years," Jan said, pulling back just enough to speak. "Casey told me."
"Mom told you?"
"Casey tells me everything." Jan's tongue returned, faster now, more insistent. "She thought it was cute."
"I'm going to kill her."
"No, you're not."
"I'm going to—"
Jan's fingers slid inside her.
Mandy stopped talking.
She stopped thinking.
There was only sensation. The stretch of Jan's fingers, the curl of them against something deep inside her. The suction of her lips. The way Katrina's hands had moved to her breasts, pinching, rolling, pulling her nipples until they ached.
"Come for her," Katrina whispered. "Come for both of us. Show us what you've got."
Mandy's hips bucked.
She was close. So close. The pressure was building, coiling, tightening in her belly like a spring.
"Please," she gasped.
"Please what?"
"Please don't stop."
"We won't."
"You—"
"We won't."
Jan's fingers curled again. Her tongue pressed hard against Mandy's clit. Katrina bit down on her shoulder—not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to hurt, hard enough to ground her.
Mandy came.
It wasn't like the times before. It wasn't a slow build or a gentle wave. It was a crash. A tsunami. Her whole body convulsed, her back arching, her mouth open in a scream that she couldn't hear over the roaring in her ears.
She might have blacked out. She wasn't sure.
When she came back, she was on the floor, her head in Katrina's lap, Jan still between her legs, licking her clean with soft, gentle strokes.
"Holy shit," Mandy said.
Jan looked up. Grinned.
"Good?"
"Good."
"You're welcome."
Mandy laughed. A breathless, shaky sound.
"I love you," she said.
Jan's expression softened.
"I love you too, Bug."
---
Across the room, Casey was screaming.
Not in fear. Not in pain. In pleasure—the kind of pleasure that made the windows rattle, that made the cats hide under the couch, that made Ben Bryant wonder if he was going to survive the night.
She'd moved off the table at some point. They were on the floor now, Casey on her back, Ben on top of her, his hips slamming into hers with a rhythm that was desperate and sloppy.
"Fuck," he groaned. "Fuck, Casey, I'm going to—"
"Don't you dare."
"I can't—"
"You can." She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "You're going to make me come one more time. Then you can do whatever you want."
"I don't think I can—"
"You can."
Ben's eyes were wild. His hair was plastered to his forehead. His body was slick with sweat, and he was shaking—actually shaking—with the effort of holding back.
"Please," he said.
"Please what?"
"Please let me come."
"Not yet."
"Casey—"
"Not. Yet."
She reached up, grabbed his face, pulled him down into a kiss. Her tongue slid against his, and she felt him shudder, felt his rhythm falter.
"Almost," she murmured against his lips. "You're almost there. Just a little longer."
"I can't—"
"You can."
She bit his lip.
He gasped.
And then she felt it—the shudder, the clench, the way her body tightened around him in a wave that started in her toes and crashed through her whole body.
"Now," she said.
He came with a sound that was almost a sob.
They lay there afterward, tangled on the kitchen floor, breathing hard. Casey's hand found his, squeezed it.
"You okay?"
"I think I died."
"That's normal."
"Is it?"
"First time with a Williamson, yeah." She turned her head, kissed his cheek. "Take a minute. Then go find Mandy."
"Find Mandy?"
"She's going to need you. Jess is going to need you. This is a lot—even for us."
Ben nodded slowly. "Where is she?"
Casey looked around. Mandy was still on the rug, curled between Jan and Katrina. Jess was emerging from the hallway, her hair a mess, a mark on her neck that looked suspiciously like a bite.
Mike followed a moment later. His face was flushed. He looked happier than Casey had seen him in years.
"Good?" she asked him.
He met her eyes.
"Yeah."
"Told you."
"You didn't tell me anything."
"I told you to go for it."
"That's not the same thing."
"It's close enough."
Mike laughed. Crossed the room. Lowered himself to the floor beside her.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too."
"Did you have fun?"
"Did you?"
"Answer the question."
Casey smiled. "Yeah. I did."
"Good."
They lay there, side by side, watching the rest of the room.
Mai and Calista had finished on the rug and moved to the couch, where they were doing something with Mai's mouth that made Calista's eyes cross. Katrina had joined them, her hands in Calista's hair, her lips on Mai's neck.
Jan was sitting against the counter, Godfrey curled in her lap, watching the chaos with a satisfied expression.
Mandy was making her way toward Ben.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
"You look tired."
"I feel dead."
"That's normal." She knelt beside him, touched his face. "You okay?"
"Ask me in the morning."
"Okay."
She kissed him. Soft. Gentle. Nothing like the chaos around them.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you too."
"You know this is insane, right?"
"What?"
"All of this. Everything. We just had an orgy with my parents and my sister and Jan and—"
"Your life is weird."
"My life is insane."
"Same thing."
Mandy laughed. "Fair."
She looked around the room, at the bodies tangled together, at the people she loved most in the world. Her parents. Her sister. Her boyfriend. Her friends.
This was her life.
This was her family.
And she wouldn't trade it for anything.