Jack led the way, his hand cradling Chasity’s lower back while Darla’s fingers laced with his on the other side. The soft hush of their bare feet on the tile floor, the shared glances, the quiet intimacy—it all built a heat of its own.

The bathroom door opened, revealing the centerpiece of Jack’s home: a massive, custom walk-in shower. Slate walls, frosted glass, rainfall showerhead above, and twin built-in benches along the sides. He’d designed it himself—meant for slow mornings, indulgent evenings… and now, it seemed, moments like this.

Chasity stepped in first, her breath catching as the warm mist hit her skin. Darla followed close behind, her pixie-cut hair already damp from the rising steam. Jack turned the water on with a gentle twist, setting it to a perfect temperature—warm enough to soothe, hot enough to arouse.

Water cascaded over all three bodies, streaming down flushed skin, highlighting every curve and muscle. Chasity leaned back on one of the seats, her hands sliding over her own belly, lips parted in anticipation. Darla joined her, one leg bent beneath her as she sat, eyeing Jack with a spark that danced.

“You really built this shower just for yourself?” she asked, letting water drip from her fingers down the middle of her chest.

Jack smirked. “I built it hoping one day I’d have someone to share it with.”

Darla’s eyes glinted. “Looks like you got lucky.”

He stepped between them, water running down his shoulders and chest. His hands moved slowly—first brushing over Chasity’s thigh, then over Darla’s knee. There was no rush. Just warm bodies and the sound of water and shared breathing, rising and falling.

Chasity leaned into Darla again, her lips brushing her neck. Darla’s hand found the back of Jack’s neck, tugging him into a kiss, slow and deep.

The three of them moved like that—careful, close, teasing touches and warm mouths exploring. Jack kissed Chasity’s shoulder as she pressed against him, her body wet and sensitive. Darla traced lazy circles along Jack’s lower back, then across Chasity’s belly, marveling at the curve of it.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered to her.

Chasity smiled, eyes soft and bright. “So are you.”

The steam thickened around them, making the world smaller, more intimate. Jack guided them gently, easing them to sit, his hands exploring, his kisses slow. He gave each of them attention—listening for the sounds they made, responding to every gasp, every sigh, every shiver beneath his touch.

In that shower, time didn’t matter.

There was only warmth, and connection, and the kind of pleasure that builds layer by layer—deeper, fuller, more real.

The steam cloaked them like a veil, softening the edges of the world until all that remained were bodies, hands, and breath.

Jack knelt between them, water running down his back as he kissed Chasity slowly, his hands steady and reverent against her thighs. She was radiant—curves slick with water, her skin flushed, lips parted in a moan that echoed off the slate walls.

Chasity clung to him, breath hitching as his fingers found her again, stroking her with care, guided by every sound she made. Her body was so responsive—already teetering on the edge, swollen and aching for release. Darla leaned in from the side, kissing Chasity’s neck, whispering sweet encouragement against her skin.

“You’re so close,” Darla murmured. “Let go.”

Jack’s touch deepened, slow and firm, and Chasity broke apart—crying out softly, her head falling back, her entire body rippling as the climax rolled through her. She gripped the edge of the bench, thighs trembling, gasping his name.

Jack didn’t stop. He eased her through it, kissing her, holding her until the aftershocks faded. Her smile was hazy, blissful.

Then it was Darla’s turn.

Jack turned to her slowly, his hands moving to her hips as she pulled him close with a grin. “You’ve been patient,” he murmured.

“I like watching,” Darla said, her voice thick with arousal. “But now I want to feel it.”

He kissed her hard, pressing her back against the slick wall. Chasity, still breathless and glowing, reached out, her hand sliding along Darla’s thigh, fingers teasing. Darla gasped, her body rocking between their touches—Jack’s mouth hot against her neck, Chasity’s hand steady and smooth.

It didn’t take long.

The combination—Jack’s hand between her thighs, Chasity’s lips brushing hers—sent Darla spiraling. Her moans echoed against the tile, hips bucking gently as she came hard, shuddering in Jack’s arms.

They held her through it, water falling like warm rain around them.

Jack’s own body was tense now, arousal thrumming just beneath the surface. He looked between them—two beautiful women flushed with release, looking back at him with hunger and affection.

Chasity smirked. “You’ve taken such good care of us.”

Darla added with a wink, “Now let us return the favor.”

They pulled him gently to the bench, guiding him to sit. The two women knelt on either side of him, hands and mouths exploring—soft touches, slow kisses, a shared rhythm of pleasure and gratitude.

Jack let go, head tilted back, breath catching as their combined attention sent him over the edge—his release crashing through him in pulsing waves. It wasn’t just the touch. It was the connection. The trust. The sheer intimacy of being wanted, together, in this way.

He exhaled, spent and satisfied.

And the three of them stayed in the shower a while longer, tangled together beneath the warm cascade, no need for words.

The kitchen was hazy with warmth and the soft scent of fresh fruit. Jack lounged in his towel, still damp from the shower, muscles relaxed, a content grin on his face as he reached for another slice of honeydew. Across from him, Chasity and Darla were curled up in their own towels, giggling between bites and quiet moans of remembered pleasure.

“My favorite?” Darla said, licking juice from her fingers. “When you slid down the bench, Jack, and made her beg with just your mouth.”

Chasity let out a shy little laugh, eyes sparkling. “I think I blacked out for a minute.”

Jack chuckled. “You were loud. I liked that.”

Chasity gave him a mock glare, blushing. “Shhh. Don’t remind me.”

Then—knock knock knock.

All three froze, eyes darting toward the front door.

“Oh god,” Chasity whispered, grabbing the edge of her towel. “Do not open it like this.”

Darla was already tiptoeing toward the hall, half-laughing. “I swear, if it’s Ms. Miller, I’m faking a seizure.”

They scattered toward the bedroom, towels tight, skin flushed, still riding the high of the shower.

Jack stayed behind.

He stood slowly, completely unbothered, adjusted his towel with practiced ease, and headed to the door. He opened it with a casual pull—and there she was.

Whitney.

Late 20s, maybe early 30s, tall and sun-kissed. Tight-fitting faded jeans rode low on her hips, dusty with gravel and streaked with smudges. Her white tank top clung to a full, round chest and was marked with spots of grease and oil. Her ponytail was high and messy, and her fingers were still streaked with black from engine work.

She looked at Jack like she’d stumbled into a scene she wasn’t quite expecting—but wasn’t about to walk away from.

“You Jack?” she asked, voice a mix of twang and confidence.

He leaned against the doorframe, water still trailing down his chest. “That’s me.”

She gave him a quick once-over—towel, muscles, damp hair, all of it—then grinned. “Everyone in this neighborhood told me you’re the man to see if something’s broke.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

She nodded, folding her arms beneath her chest, giving the tank top even more work to do. “I just moved into the place on the hill. My truck died halfway into the driveway. Hood popped, smoke everywhere. Some of the ladies said…” she trailed off, eyes twinkling, “…Jack can fix anything.”

Jack couldn’t help the slow grin that crept across his face.

Behind him, a door creaked—Darla’s voice whispered a curse as she ducked out of sight. He didn’t turn around.

“Well, Whitney,” Jack said, stepping slightly aside, towel still firmly in place. “I’m a little… busy. But I could take a look at that truck real soon.”

Whitney didn’t miss a beat. “Busy, huh?” Her gaze flicked past him into the house.

Jack shrugged, letting the moment hang.

She reached out, extended a grease-stained hand. “I’m Whitney. ”

Jack took it, firm grip, sparks at the touch. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Whitney looked him straight in the eye and smirked. “I think I’m gonna like it here.”

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Whitney’s Page