The porch light was a yellow smear against the black ocean. Inside, the living room felt like a held breath.

"Never have I ever," Kira said, her finger tracing the rim of her glass, "kissed a girl at a frat party."

Erin’s smile tightened. She took a sip of her drink. The tequila burned.

Will laughed, nudging her shoulder. "That one’s you, babe. The Sigma Chi thing, right?"

"Ancient history," Erin said. Her voice came out lighter than she meant it to.

Kira watched her over the glass. "Not that ancient. I remember the taste of that cherry lip gloss."

Niko smiled, saying nothing. He was on his second beer. Will was on his fourth.

The game moved on. Kira’s questions were darts, each one landing closer to a version of Erin that lived in photo albums Will had never seen. Skinny dipping in the campus pond. A threesome rumor that was half-true. The time she woke up in a stranger’s dorm wearing a boy’s lacrosse jersey.

With each sip, Will’s laughter grew louder, his arm around her heavier. "My wife," he kept saying, a proud, drunken grin on his face. "Who knew?"

Erin’s skin felt too warm. The flush started at her collarbones, a prickling heat that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.

By nine-thirty, Will’s words had started to slur. By ten, his head lolled back against the couch cushions, his mouth slightly open. A soft, rhythmic snore filled the space between songs on Kira’s playlist.

Kira didn’t miss a beat. She stood, collected the empty beer bottles from the coffee table. "Well. Looks like it’s just us grown-ups."

"Should we get him to bed?" Erin asked, already half-rising.

"Let him sleep it off. He’s fine." Kira’s hand pressed down on Erin’s shoulder, gentle but firm, guiding her back onto the loveseat. "Truth or Dare is a three-player game anyway."

Niko stretched his arms along the back of the couch. His t-shirt pulled tight across his chest. "I’m in."

Erin’s pulse was a quick, light hammer in her throat. "Truth," she said quickly.

Kira’s smile was a knife. "Boring. But okay. Truth: When was the last time you did something Will would absolutely lose his mind over?"

The air conditioning kicked on with a low hum. Erin could feel the sweat cooling between her breasts. "I don’t—nothing. I don’t do things like that."

"Liar," Kira sang softly. She didn’t wait for a rebuttal. "My turn. Dare."

She stood up in the center of the room, the lamplight casting her shadow long across the floorboards. Without ceremony, she grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her small breasts were pale in the low light, her nipples dark and already hard from the room’s chill.

She tossed the shirt onto the chair beside Will’s sleeping form. "Too hot in here," she said, her voice casual, as if she’d just removed a sweater.

Niko’s gaze was appreciative, calm. He took a slow sip of his beer.

Erin’s eyes flicked to Will. His chest rose and fell, steady and oblivious.

"Erin," Kira said. "Dare."

Erin swallowed. "Truth."

"Nope. You defaulted. You get a dare." Kira perched on the arm of Niko’s couch, her bare shoulder brushing his. "I dare you to sit on Niko’s lap."

The silence that followed was filled with the crash of distant waves. Erin’s ears rang with it.

"Kira, come on."

"What? It’s just sitting. It’s not like I dared you to suck his dick." Kira’s laugh was easy, infectious. "God, you’re so tense. It’s a game. Look, he doesn’t bite." She nudged Niko with her knee.

Niko spread his hands, a picture of harmless welcome. His thighs were solid under the worn fabric of his shorts.

Erin’s sundress felt suddenly thin, insubstantial. The linen clung to her skin. She stood up. The floorboards creaked under her feet. Three steps across the rug. The world narrowed to the space between the loveseat and the couch, to the heat she could already feel radiating from him.

She turned, her back to him. The act of lowering herself was a study in slow motion. The first point of contact was the back of her thighs against the tops of his. The heat was immediate, shocking. Then the full weight of her settling, the soft press of her ass against the hard plane of his lap.

He was solid. Unyielding. She could feel the muscle of his legs, the warmth of his stomach against the small of her back. Her own breathing sounded too loud in her ears.

"See?" Kira said. Her voice was a purr. "Not so bad."

Niko’s arms remained on the back of the couch, not touching her. The restraint was somehow more intimate than an embrace. Erin was hyper-aware of the inch of space between his skin and her shoulders, of the way his breath stirred the hairs at the nape of her neck.

She stared straight ahead at Will. At the peaceful, slack line of his jaw. A thread of drogle had escaped the corner of his mouth.

"Okay," Erin whispered. "Done."

She started to rise.

"Ah-ah," Kira said. "The dare was to sit on his lap. Not to hop right off. A minute. That’s the rule."

Sixty seconds. Erin counted them in the frantic beat of her own heart. She felt everything. The rough seam of his shorts against the backs of her bare thighs. The slow, steady expansion of his chest against her spine. The faint, clean scent of his soap mixed with salt air.

And beneath her, something else. A gradual, inexorable hardening. The subtle shift of his body adjusting, accommodating. The thick, insistent pressure against the curve of her ass.

Her own body betrayed her with a sudden, slick heat between her legs. The flush spread up her neck, burning her cheeks.

Niko shifted again, just a fraction. The movement pressed him more firmly against her. A quiet, involuntary sound escaped her throat—a soft, choked gasp.

Kira’s smile widened. She looked from Erin’s flushed face to Will’s sleeping form, three feet away. "See?" she murmured, her voice barely audible over the music. "He doesn’t mind a bit."

The minute ended. Erin pushed herself up, her thighs sticking slightly to the fabric of his shorts. She didn't look at him. She crossed back to the loveseat on legs that felt unsteady and sat down hard.

"See?" Kira said. She hadn't moved from the arm of the couch. "You survived. Your virtue is intact."

Erin's face was still burning. She could still feel the imprint of him, the hard ridge that had pressed against her. She folded her hands in her lap to hide their tremor.

Niko shifted on the couch, adjusting himself with a casualness that made her stomach tighten. He picked up his beer. "My turn," he said. "Truth."

Kira leaned forward, her bare breasts swaying slightly. "Okay. Truth: What's the first thing you noticed about Erin tonight?"

Niko took a slow drink. His eyes, blue and calm, settled on Erin. "The flush," he said. "When she drinks. It starts right here." He touched his own collarbone.

Erin's hand went to her throat. She could feel the heat under her fingers.

"Accurate," Kira said, smiling. "She's always been a blusher. Even when she was doing things that should have made her blush years earlier." She turned to Erin. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"

The words felt thick. "Truth."

"Still playing it safe. Fine. Truth: Are you wet right now?"

The room got very quiet. The hum of the air conditioner was a distant buzz. Erin's mouth went dry. She looked at Will. His snore hitched, then evened out.

"Kira," she whispered.

"It's a yes or no question."

"That's not—"

"It's the game. You picked truth. Answer."

Erin's nails dug into her own palms. The slick heat between her legs was a humiliating, undeniable fact. She gave the smallest, tightest nod.

Kira's smile was triumphant. "Good girl. Honesty." She stood up, stretching her arms over her head. The movement arched her back, pulled her skin taut. "My turn again. Dare."

She walked to the center of the room, directly in front of Niko. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts. "I dare myself to lose these." She pushed them down her hips in one smooth motion, stepping out of them. She wore nothing underneath. The lamplight caught the dark triangle of hair between her legs.

She kicked the shorts toward the chair. "Better."

Niko watched her, his expression unchanged. Appreciative, but calm. As if his girlfriend stripping naked in a room with another woman and her unconscious husband was a Tuesday.

Kira turned to Erin. Her body was pale and lean in the low light. "Erin. Dare."

Erin's heart was a frantic bird against her ribs. "I… I need to use the bathroom."

"After your dare."

"Kira, please."

"It's just a game. Look at me." Kira spread her hands, presenting herself. "I'm fine. It's just skin. We're all adults here. And Will is sleeping like a baby." She took a step closer. "I dare you to kiss Niko."

The air left Erin's lungs. "No."

"You kissed me once. At Sigma Chi. Remember? You tasted like peach schnapps."

"That was—"

"A dare. Just like this. You did it then. You're more fun now, aren't you?"

Erin's gaze flicked to Niko. He was watching her, waiting. His arms were still spread along the back of the couch. An open invitation.

"It doesn't have to be a big deal," Kira said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Just a kiss. Five seconds. Then you can go pee, I promise."

Erin stood up. The floor seemed to tilt. She took the three steps to the couch. Niko didn't move, didn't lean forward. He just watched her approach, his eyes on her mouth.

She stopped in front of him. The smell of his soap, the salt, the faint musk of his skin. Her own sundress felt like tissue paper.

"Go on," Kira murmured from behind her.

Erin bent at the waist. She put one hand on the couch cushion beside his hip to steady herself. She closed her eyes. She brought her mouth to his.

His lips were warm. Soft. He didn't move for a second, just let her press against him. Then his mouth opened, just a fraction. An invitation.

Her own lips parted. The tip of his tongue touched hers. A slow, deliberate slide. The taste of beer and something darker, warmer. A sound caught in her throat, a soft, helpless noise.

His hand came up. Not to pull her closer, but to cradle the back of her head. His fingers tangled in her ponytail, holding her there. The kiss deepened. He took control of it, his tongue exploring her mouth with a lazy, thorough confidence.

Erin's free hand gripped the couch. Her knees went weak. The heat between her legs became a throbbing ache. She was kissing him back. She was leaning into it.

From the loveseat, Will snorted in his sleep.

She jerked back as if burned. Her lips were wet. She wiped them with the back of her hand, her breath coming in short gasps.

Niko let his hand fall from her hair. He looked up at her, his expression unreadable.

"Five seconds," Kira said, her voice rich with amusement. "That was at least ten. But who's counting?"

Erin couldn't look at either of them. She turned and walked quickly toward the hallway, toward the bathroom. Her face was on fire.

"Don't be long," Kira called after her. "The game's just getting good."

The bathroom door clicked shut behind her. Erin leaned against it, the wood cool against her back. Her reflection in the mirror above the sink was a stranger—lips swollen, eyes too bright, chest flushed a deep, betraying pink.

She turned on the tap. Cold water splashed against her wrists. She cupped her hands and brought it to her face, the shock of it a brief, clean punctuation. It didn’t help. The taste of him was still in her mouth. Beer. Salt. Him.

From the living room, she heard Kira’s laugh, low and knowing. A murmur from Niko. The sounds were muffled but intimate, a conversation continuing seamlessly in her absence.

She gripped the edge of the sink. Her knuckles were white. The humiliating heat between her legs hadn’t faded. It pulsed, a low, persistent ache. She could still feel the solid weight of his thighs, the scratch of his stubble, the way his hand had fisted in her hair.

A soft knock on the door made her jump.

“Erin?” Kira’s voice, honey-smooth. “You okay in there?”

“Fine.” The word came out too high. She cleared her throat. “Just a minute.”

“Take your time. We’re just talking.” A pause. “Niko says you’re a good kisser. For a married woman.”

Erin closed her eyes. The flush crept up her neck.

She couldn’t stay in here forever. Will was out there. Will was sleeping. The thought was an anchor, but it felt distant, blurred at the edges. She patted her face dry with a hand towel, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror.

When she opened the door, the living room air felt thicker, warmer. Kira was curled on the loveseat now, still naked, one leg tucked under her. Niko hadn’t moved from the couch. His eyes tracked her as she stepped into the lamplight.

“Better?” Kira asked.

Erin nodded. She hovered near the hallway entrance, a guest in her own space.

“Good. Come sit. Your turn to ask.” Kira gestured to the floor space between the couch and the loveseat. “Truth or dare, Erin. Pick.”

Erin’s mouth was dry. “Truth.”

Kira’s smile was a slash of white. “Boring. But okay.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Truth: did you like kissing him?”

The question hung in the salt-tinged air. Will’s soft snore from the couch was a rhythmic counterpoint.

“It was a dare,” Erin said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“I did it.”

“You did,” Niko said, his voice quiet. “You definitely did.”

Erin’s gaze flicked to him. He was watching her with that same calm appreciation, as if she were a painting he was deciding how to light.

“Fine,” Kira said, waving a hand. “We’ll circle back. My turn again. Dare.” She stood up, stretching. She walked to the small side table where the tequila bottle and a dish of coarse salt sat. “I dare myself to do a body shot. Off Niko.”

She licked the back of her hand, sprinkled salt on the wet skin, then took the lime wedge from the dish. She walked to the couch and straddled Niko’s lap, facing him. Her bare back was to Erin, a pale curve in the dim light.

“Ready?” she said.

Niko nodded. He took the bottle, poured a shot into his mouth but didn’t swallow. Kira leaned in, her tongue darting out to lick the salt from her own hand. Then she brought the lime wedge to her mouth, bit into it, and pressed her lips to his.

Erin watched. She saw the working of Kira’s throat as she took the tequila from his mouth. Heard the soft, wet sound of the transfer. Kira pulled back, chewing the lime, a slow smile spreading. She swallowed.

“Your turn, Erin,” she said, sliding off his lap. She didn’t return to the loveseat. She stood beside it, a naked curator. “Dare.”

Erin shook her head. “I’m done. I think I’m done with the game.”

“You can’t be done. It’s your turn.” Kira’s tone was light, but it didn’t bend. “I did it first. It’s just a body shot. It’s fun.”

“Kira, no.”

“What’s the problem?” Kira spread her hands. “You’re wearing a dress. You’re more covered than I am. It’s less intimate than the kiss, honestly.”

Niko said nothing. He just watched, his hands resting on his own thighs.

“Will is right there,” Erin whispered, the words desperate and thin.

“And he’s asleep. He won’t know. It’s a game, Erin. We’re all friends here.” Kira took a step closer. Her voice dropped, conspiratorial. “Remember spring break, Panama City? You did body shots off that bartender. What was his name? The one with the dolphin tattoo.”

Erin remembered. The sticky bar, the loud music, the taste of cheap tequila and stranger’s skin. She’d been someone else then.

“This is different,” she said.

“How?”

Erin had no answer that wouldn’t sound like a confession.

Kira picked up the lime dish and the salt. She walked over and placed them on the floor at Erin’s feet. “I dare you to do a body shot. Off Niko.”

The silence stretched. The waves crashed outside. Will mumbled something in his sleep, a nonsense syllable, and turned his face into the couch cushion.

Erin looked at the salt. She looked at Niko. His expression was open, patient. An invitation, not a demand.

Her legs moved before her mind could form another protest. She walked to the center of the room, the floorboards warm under her bare feet. She knelt, the position feeling absurdly formal. She picked up the lime wedge. The juice was sharp and acidic on her fingers.

She didn’t look at Kira. She looked at Niko. “How do I…?”

“Your hand,” he said, his voice low. “Lick it.”

She brought the back of her hand to her mouth. Her tongue darted out, wetting the skin. It felt like a performance. She sprinkled salt onto the damp patch.

“Now come here,” he said.

She stood. The three steps to the couch were a mile. She stopped in front of him. He picked up the bottle, poured a shot into his mouth, and held it. He didn’t swallow. He looked up at her, waiting.

Erin bent forward. She brought her salted hand to her mouth, licked it clean. The salt was coarse on her tongue. She bit into the lime, the sourness making her eyes water. Then she leaned down.

Her lips met his. His mouth was already open. The tequila flooded into hers, warm and sharp, carrying the taste of him with it. His hands came up to cradle her hips, steadying her. Not pulling her closer, just holding her there.

She swallowed. The liquor burned a path down her throat. She chewed the lime pulp, the sour and the salt and the heat of him mixing in her mouth. She started to pull away.

One of his hands slid up her back, between her shoulder blades. Gentle pressure. He kept her there for a second longer, his mouth moving softly against hers, not a kiss but a seal. A completion of the transfer.

When he released her, she straightened up, dizzy. Her lips were wet. Her whole body was humming.

“See?” Kira said from the shadows. “Fun.”

Niko’s hands were still on her hips. His thumbs stroked small circles through the thin cotton of her sundress. “Good?” he asked.

Erin nodded, unable to speak. The tequila was a fire in her stomach, spreading.

“Your turn to ask again,” Kira prompted, her voice a satisfied purr. “Truth or dare, Erin. Choose.”

Erin looked down at Niko. His hands were warm brands on her hips. The game was a current, and she was in it now, being carried. There was no shore in sight.

“Dare,” she heard herself say.

Kira’s smile widened. “Dare. Good. I dare you to take off your dress.”

Erin’s hands went to the thin straps on her shoulders. Her fingers were cold. The room was too hot.

“It’s just fabric,” Kira said. She was still naked, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed under her small breasts. “You’ve got a bikini on. You’re more covered than I am. Again.”

Niko’s hands were still on her hips. His thumbs had stopped moving. They pressed into the bone.

“Come on, Erin,” Kira said, her voice dropping into a coaxing rhythm. “It’s a beach cabin. It’s hot. Will’s asleep. It’s just us.”

Erin looked at Will. His mouth was open, his breathing a soft, wet sound against the couch cushion. Three feet away. She could see the pulse in his throat.

Her own pulse was hammering in her ears. She found the zipper at the back of her neck. The metal tab was small, slick with her sweat.

She pulled it down.

The sound was loud in the quiet room. A slow, teeth-gritting rasp that ended at the base of her spine. The cotton dress went slack around her body.

She let the straps fall from her shoulders. The dress slid down her arms, over her hips, and pooled at her feet on the worn floorboards. She stepped out of it, kicking it aside with her bare foot.

The air touched her skin. It was cooler than she expected. Her bikini was a simple black triangle top and matching bottoms. The fabric felt suddenly insubstantial.

“See?” Kira said. “Easy.”

Niko’s gaze traveled over her. It wasn’t a leer. It was slower. More specific. He looked at the freckles across her shoulders, the line of her collarbone, the way the bikini top strained slightly over her breasts. His hands were still on her hips, his fingers now on bare skin just above the waistband of her bottoms.

“You look good,” he said. His voice was matter-of-fact.

Erin crossed her arms over her chest. The gesture was automatic, useless. Her skin was flushed, the pink spreading up from her chest to her throat.

“Don’t do that,” Kira said, pushing off the wall. She walked over, her bare feet silent on the floor. She reached out and gently pulled Erin’s arms down to her sides. “Stand up straight. You look amazing.”

Kira’s hands were warm. She held Erin’s wrists for a second, then let go. She took a step back, her eyes appraising. “God, remember your body at twenty? You’re better now. All that working out with what’s-his-name.”

“Micah,” Erin said, the name feeling strange in her mouth.

“Right. Micah.” Kira’s smile was sharp. “It shows.”

Niko’s hands slid from her hips to the small of her back. His palms were broad, warm. He pulled her gently backward until her legs brushed the front of the couch. “Sit,” he said.

It wasn’t a question. Erin sat, the cushion giving under her weight. She was perched on the edge, her knees together, her back straight. Niko was still on the couch, his body turned toward her. Will was a still, breathing shape at the other end.

Kira picked up the tequila bottle. She poured three shots into mismatched glasses on the coffee table. She handed one to Niko, one to Erin, kept one for herself. “A toast,” she said, lifting her glass. “To old friends. And new games.”

They drank. The tequila was a familiar burn now. It settled in Erin’s stomach, a low, spreading heat that made the room feel softer at the edges.

“Your turn, Niko,” Kira said, setting her glass down with a click. “Ask her.”

Niko leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He was close enough that Erin could smell the salt on his skin, the clean scent of his soap. He looked at her, his blue eyes steady. “Truth or dare?”

Erin’s mouth was dry. The word came out hoarse. “Dare.”

He didn’t look at Kira. He kept his eyes on Erin. “I dare you to take off your top.”

The air left her lungs. She didn’t move.

“Niko,” Kira said, a laugh in her voice. “Bold. I like it.”

“You set the precedent,” he said, still watching Erin. “She’s just catching up.”

Erin’s hands went to the knot behind her neck. Her fingers fumbled, slippery. The knot was tight, secured against a day of swimming. She picked at it, her nails scraping her own skin.

“Need help?” Niko asked.

She shook her head. The knot came loose. The strings fell over her shoulders. She reached behind her back, found the other tie. It gave way more easily.

She held the bikini top against her chest for a heartbeat. The black fabric was warm from her skin. Then she let it drop into her lap.

The cabin air touched her bare breasts. Her nipples tightened instantly, pebbled and sensitive. She kept her eyes on the floor, on the pattern of the rug between her feet.

“Look at me,” Niko said.

She lifted her head. His gaze was on her face, not her chest. His expression was calm, open. As if they were having a normal conversation.

“Good,” he said.

Kira moved. She came around the side of the couch and sat on the coffee table directly in front of Erin, so close their knees almost touched. She was still naked. Her eyes were bright, interested. “See? It’s just skin. It’s just us.”

Erin could feel the weight of her own breasts, the slight ache of exposure. She could feel Niko’s eyes on her now, a physical warmth.

“Your turn, Erin,” Kira prompted. Her voice was a low, intimate murmur. “Ask Niko. Truth or dare.”

Erin swallowed. She looked at Niko. His blonde hair was messy from the ocean wind earlier. His shoulders were broad under his thin t-shirt. He waited, patient.

“Truth or dare?” she asked. Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

“Dare,” he said.

She hadn’t thought this far. Her mind was blank, white noise. The only thing in it was the sight of him sitting there, the feel of the air on her skin, the sound of Will’s sleep-breathing from the other end of the couch.

Kira leaned forward. Her hand came to rest on Erin’s bare knee. Her touch was warm, grounding. “Dare him to take off his shirt,” she whispered, as if suggesting a play in a game of cards. “It’s only fair.”

Erin repeated it. “Take off your shirt.”

Niko didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the hem of his grey t-shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. He tossed it onto the floor beside her dress.

His chest was exactly what she expected—toned, gym-built, with a light dusting of blonde hair. He had a tattoo on his left pec, something geometric and black. He didn’t pose. He just sat there, letting her look.

“See?” Kira said, her hand squeezing Erin’s knee. “Now we’re even.”

They weren’t even. Not even close. But the logic felt solid in the moment, a fragile bridge over a canyon. Erin nodded.

“My turn,” Kira said. She looked at Niko. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he said, his eyes still on Erin.

Kira’s smile was a slow, wicked thing. “I dare you to touch her.”

Erin flinched. "Wait—"

But Niko was already up, moving behind her. The couch cushions dipped as he settled in close, his thighs framing hers. His hands came to rest on her bare shoulders.

She kept her eyes on Will. His mouth was slack, his head tilted back against the couch cushion. A soft, rhythmic snore.

Niko’s hands were warm. They slid down her upper arms, slow, his palms rough against her skin. She could feel the heat of his chest against her back. He brought his arms around her front.

His hands cupped her breasts.

Erin’s breath hitched. Her gaze stayed locked on her husband’s sleeping face, three feet away.

"See?" Kira murmured from the coffee table. Her eyes were dark, fixed on the point where Niko’s hands held Erin. "Just touch. It’s nothing."

Niko’s thumbs brushed over her nipples. A jolt went through her, sharp and electric. Her back arched, just a little.

"They’re so responsive," Kira said, almost to herself. "Always were."

Niko’s fingers pinched. Gently at first, then with more pressure. A slow, deliberate twist.

Erin closed her eyes. A low sound escaped her throat. She let her head fall back against Niko’s shoulder.

"There you go," he said, his voice a rumble against her ear. His thumbs circled the tightened peaks, over and over.

The sensation was a direct line, a live wire from her chest to between her legs. She could feel herself getting wet, a slick heat that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.

"Look at her," Kira said. Her voice was hushed, reverent. "She’s right there."

"I can feel it," Niko said. He shifted behind her, and she felt the hard ridge of his erection press against the small of her back through his shorts. "Every time I touch you, you get tighter. Don’t you?"

Erin didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her hips gave a small, involuntary roll.

Kira leaned forward. She placed her hands on Erin’s knees, spreading them wider apart. "Let’s see."

"Kira—"

"Shhh. It’s a dare. We’re playing." Her fingers walked up Erin’s inner thighs. "God, you’re soaked. Through the bikini and everything."

Niko’s hands never stopped moving on her breasts. He kneaded the flesh, his grip firm, possessive. "Take the bottoms off."

Erin shook her head, a weak tremor. Her eyes opened, found Will again. Still asleep. Oblivious.

"I’ll do it," Kira said. Her fingers hooked into the sides of Erin’s black bikini bottoms. She tugged them down, over Erin’s hips, down her thighs. The fabric caught at her knees. "Lift."

Erin lifted. The bottoms came free. Kira dropped them on the floor with the rest.

The cabin air touched her everywhere now. Her skin was alive, hypersensitive. Niko’s hands on her breasts. The rough denim of his shorts against her back. The cool wood of the coffee table under her heels where Kira had positioned her feet.

Kira sat back on her heels, looking. "Fuck, Erin."

"Truth or dare, Kira," Niko said. His voice was calm, conversational, even as his thumbs pressed cruelly into her nipples.

Kira smiled. "Dare. Obviously."

"Touch her. Where she’s wet."

Kira didn’t hesitate. She reached out, her fingers sliding through the slickness between Erin’s legs. Erin jerked, a full-body spasm.

"Easy," Niko murmured into her hair. His hands stilled, holding her breasts like an anchor. "Let her."

Kira’s touch was clinical, exploring. She traced Erin’s folds, parted her, pressed a finger just inside. "Jesus. You’re dripping."

Erin’s face was on fire. She squeezed her eyes shut again. The dual sensation was overwhelming—the sharp, sweet pain in her nipples, the intimate, probing stroke of Kira’s finger.

"You like this," Niko said. It wasn’t a question. "You like her watching. You like him sleeping right there."

"No," Erin whispered.

"Yes," Kira corrected softly. She added a second finger, a slow stretch. "Your body doesn’t lie, babe. It never could."

Niko’s mouth found the side of her neck. He didn’t kiss it. He breathed against the skin, hot and damp. "My turn again. Truth or dare, Erin."

She was panting now, short, shallow breaths. Kira’s fingers curled inside her, a devastating rhythm. "Dare."

"Come for us."

Her eyes flew open. She stared at the water stain on the ceiling, the exposed beam. "I can’t."

"You can," Kira said. Her thumb found Erin’s clit, pressed in a tight circle. "You’re about to. I can feel it."

Niko pinched her nipples hard, a sudden, bright burst of pain that melted instantly into a deep, radiating ache. "Do it. Let him hear you."

The orgasm built like a wave, too fast, undeniable. It tore through her, silent at first, a seismic shudder that locked her muscles. Then a broken sound ripped from her throat—a choked, desperate gasp.

Will snorted in his sleep, shifted, and fell quiet again.

Erin went limp against Niko, trembling. Kira slowly withdrew her fingers, glistening. She brought them to her mouth, sucked them clean, her eyes on Erin’s face the whole time.

"Good girl," Niko said. He released her breasts, his hands smoothing over her stomach instead, holding her steady against him. His own breathing was ragged now. "See? Just a game."

Kira stood up. She stretched, naked and unselfconscious. "I need water. That was intense." She padded toward the kitchen, the sound of her footsteps fading.

For a moment, it was just the two of them, and the sound of Will’s sleep, and the wetness cooling on Erin’s thighs.

Niko’s hand drifted lower, through the damp curls, his fingers replacing where Kira’s had been. He touched her, gently now, exploring the sensitive, swollen flesh. "You’re still throbbing."

Erin didn’t have the strength to push him away. Her head lolled on his shoulder. She watched the rise and fall of Will’s chest.

"He’s out cold," Niko said. His finger slid inside her, easily, to the knuckle. "He won’t wake up."

From the kitchen, the sound of the faucet running. Ice clinking in a glass.

Niko added a second finger. He worked them in and out, a slow, deliberate fuck. "My turn for a dare," he said, his lips against her ear. "But I think I’ll collect later."

He worked his fingers inside her, a slow, steady rhythm that felt less like a dare and more like a promise. The wet sound was obscene in the quiet room. Erin’s breath hitched with each thrust.

“You’re still so tight,” Niko murmured. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Even after coming. It’s like your body doesn’t want to let go.”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on Will’s sleeping form, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Three feet away. The distance felt impossible.

Niko curled his fingers, pressing up into a spot that made her hips jerk. A small, choked noise escaped her.

“There it is,” he said. His other hand splayed across her lower belly, holding her down. “You can look at him. It’s okay.”

Kira walked back in, the ice in her glass clinking. She leaned against the doorframe, watching. She’d put her panties back on, nothing else.

“Collecting your dare?” she asked Niko, her voice casual.

“Thinking about it.”

“Don’t think too long. The sun’ll be up.”

Niko’s fingers stilled, buried deep. He turned his head toward Kira. “What’s your vote?”

Kira took a sip of water. She studied Erin’s face, the flush on her chest, the way her head lolled against Niko’s shoulder. “I think she’s ready. But it’s your turn.”

Erin’s throat tightened. “Ready for what?”

Niko ignored her. He withdrew his fingers slowly, making her feel every ridge, every inch of the loss. He brought his hand up between them, his fingers glistening in the lamplight. “Taste.”

She stared at his hand. Her own slickness shone there.

“Come on, Erin,” Kira said softly from the doorway. “You know how this works.”

Erin’s eyes flicked to Will. His mouth was slightly open. A soft snore escaped him.

Niko didn’t move his hand. He waited.

She leaned forward. Her tongue touched his fingertips, a tentative stroke. The taste was salty, musky, unmistakably her. A shudder ran through her.

“Good,” Niko said. He fed his fingers into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue. “Now suck them clean.”

She closed her eyes and obeyed. The intimacy of it was worse than anything before. Her own arousal, his command, the quiet approval from Kira across the room. She hollowed her cheeks, cleaning each finger until he pulled them free with a soft pop.

“My dare,” Niko said. His voice was low, for her alone. “You’re going to get on your knees. You’re going to take my cock in your mouth. And you’re going to swallow every drop. While he sleeps.”

Erin’s heart hammered against her ribs. “I can’t.”

“You can.” He shifted beneath her, his erection pressing insistently against the small of her back through his shorts. “Your husband is right there. He’ll never know. Unless you wake him up.”

Kira pushed off the doorframe and walked over. She knelt in front of Erin, her dark eyes level. “Remember sophomore year? The Sigma Chi bathroom? You did it for a stranger then.” She reached out, tucked a damp strand of hair behind Erin’s ear. Her touch was almost maternal. “This is just Niko. And I’m here. It’s just a game.”

It wasn’t a game. The line had dissolved hours ago. But the words landed anyway, an old permission from a buried self.

Niko’s hands settled on her hips. He lifted her off his lap, setting her on her feet on the worn rug. Her legs trembled.

“Go on,” Kira whispered.

Erin sank to her knees. The floorboards were hard and cool. She faced Niko, his blond hair haloed by the lamp behind him. He didn’t smile. He watched her, his gaze steady and heavy.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and pushed them down, just enough. His cock sprang free, thick and already leaking at the tip. The scent of him, clean sweat and musk, filled the space between them.

“Look at me,” he said.

She dragged her eyes up from his cock to his face.

“Use your hands first.”

Her hands were shaking. She reached out, her fingers wrapping around the base. The skin was hot, silken over iron. A bead of moisture welled at the slit. She smeared it with her thumb, her touch clumsy.

Niko let out a slow breath. “Now your mouth.”

She leaned in. Her lips touched the head, a hesitant kiss. Salt bloomed on her tongue.

“Deeper.”

She opened her mouth, taking him in. The stretch was immediate, familiar in a way that sent a bolt of shame through her stomach. She relaxed her jaw, letting him slide further back, until her nose pressed into the crisp hair at his base.

“Yeah,” Niko breathed. His hand came to rest on the back of her head, not forcing, just present. “Just like that. You remember.”

She did remember. The rhythm returned to her—the suction, the flick of her tongue along the vein underneath, the hollowing of her cheeks. Her eyes watered. She focused on the sound of his breathing, the slight hitch when she swallowed around him.

Kira moved behind her. Erin felt her kneel, felt her hands on Erin’s bare hips. “You look so good like this,” Kira murmured. Her fingers trailed down, through the damp curls, finding her again from behind. “So pretty on your knees for him.”

Niko’s grip tightened in her hair. He began to move, a shallow thrust into her mouth. “Eyes open. Look at him.”

Tears blurred her vision. She forced her eyes to the side, to the couch. Will’s face was turned toward them, peaceful in sleep. His arm dangled off the cushion, fingers brushing the floor.

Kira’s fingers pushed inside her, matching Niko’s rhythm. The dual sensation—the fullness in her mouth, the stretch from behind—coiled a new tension low in her belly. A moan vibrated in her throat, around Niko’s cock.

“She’s getting close again,” Kira said, her voice tight with focus.

Niko’s thrusts deepened. The head of his cock bumped the back of her throat. She gagged, tears spilling over. He didn’t stop. “Take it,” he gritted out. “All of it.”

Kira’s thumb found her clit, a ruthless, circling pressure. The orgasm built fast, a tsunami this time, tearing through the numbness. It ripped a silent scream from her, her body convulsing around Kira’s fingers, her throat working helplessly around Niko.

He groaned, a raw, broken sound. His hips stuttered. “Swallow,” he commanded, his voice fraying at the edges.

The first pulse hit the back of her throat, hot and bitter. She swallowed reflexively. The second. The third. He held her head still, emptying himself into her with a final, shuddering thrust.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of ragged breathing. Then Niko gently pulled himself free.

Erin slumped forward, catching herself on her hands. Spit and cum dripped from her chin onto the rug. Her whole body trembled.

Kira withdrew her fingers, giving Erin’s hip a soft pat. “Good girl,” she whispered, echoing Niko’s earlier words. She stood up.

Niko tucked himself back into his shorts. He looked down at Erin, his expression unreadable. “My dare’s collected.”

From the couch, Will mumbled something in his sleep. A single, clear word: “Baby.”

Erin froze.

But he just sighed, turned his face into the cushion, and fell still again.

Kira let out a low laugh. “Timing.” She walked to the hallway. “I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up all night.”

Her footsteps faded. A door clicked shut down the hall.

Niko crouched in front of Erin. He picked up his t-shirt and used it to wipe her chin, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You okay?”

She couldn’t answer. She just stared at the dark spot on the rug between her hands.

He stood, offering a hand. She ignored it, pushing herself up on unsteady legs. The room tilted.

Erin reached for Niko’s t-shirt, the one with her spit and his cum on it, and pulled it on over her head. It was long enough to serve as a pajama gown on Erin. She then reached over and picked up her panties, carefully slipping them over her feet and all the way up her legs. She could feel the coldness of the cotton, caused by the dampness that she had created. She stood up and took a step toward the couch, her bare feet silent on the floorboards. She stopped, looking back at Niko. He was watching her, his arms crossed over his chest.

“It was just a game,” he said again, but the words had no weight now.

She turned away. She bent over Will, shaking his shoulder lightly. He smelled of beer and sleep. Her throat closed.

Behind them, Niko turned off the lamp. The room plunged into darkness, save for the moonlight through the windows. She heard the soft rustle of him settling back onto the couch.

She stood perfectly still and tried to focus her thoughts on anything other than the taste that was still in her mouth. The taste of Niko’s sweat. His semen. His cock, which moments ago had been shoved in her mouth and halfway down her throat. The floorboards were cold under her feet. She stood for a moment, listening to his deep, even breaths. Then she walked out of the living room, the borrowed t-shirt clinging to her damp skin.

Moonlight striped the floor from the windows. Niko was a silhouette on the couch, lying on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes. He didn’t move as she passed.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind her. She leaned against it, her forehead pressing into the cool wood.

The light was blinding. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the white tiles, the rust-stained sink, her own reflection. Her hair was a wreck. Her lips were swollen. Niko’s t-shirt swallowed her, the collar slipping off one shoulder. Her nipples were poking into the t-shirt. Still hard,

She turned on the faucet. The water ran cold at first, then warmed. She cupped her hands under it, splashed her face, then rinsed her mouth. The water dripped from her chin into the sink, pink-tinged. She’d bitten her lip at some point.

She took a wad of toilet paper, and lifted the hem of the t-shirt. Her panties were soaked, a dark stain spreading from the crotch. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down her legs.

The evidence was stark on the white cotton. More so then her own wetness dripping down her thigh. She balled the toilet paper and patted it into her wet panties, again trying not to think about Niko’s cock.

She grabbed more toilet paper and cleaned herself with slow, methodical strokes. The toilet paper came apart. She kept going until it her legs were clean and dry. The process was clinical. This is a mess. Clean the mess.

A soft click from the door knob twisting made her jump. Niko stepped into the bathroom and then shut the door gently behind him.

“You okay in here?”

She froze, the wad of wet paper in her hand. “Fine.”

“You’ve been in here a while.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m almost done.”

He looked her up and down, slowly tracing his eyes over the panties in her hands, and over to the drop of wetness leaking down her right leg.

“Erin. You’re wet.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. She squeezed her legs together, turning away from his gaze. She caught her reflection in the mirror—the flush on her chest, the blankness in her eyes. The wetness soaking through Niko’s t-shirt she had on.

He pushed it open slowly. He’d put his shorts back on, nothing else. He looked her over, his gaze dropping to the trash can, to the discarded panties visible just inside the rim.

“You don’t have to hide it,” he said.

“I’m not hiding it. I’m just cleaning up.”

“Same thing.” He stepped closer, bring his hand to the bottom hem of her t-shirt. The small room suddenly felt smaller. He leaned his mouth close to her ear and whispered. “You want me to help?”

She turned back to the sink, ran more water. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.” He reached out, caught a strand of her hair, tucked it behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek. “Your husband’s in the next room. My cum’s in your stomach. Kira’s fingerprints are all over you. And you’re still wet.”

She stared at the water swirling down the drain. “No. I’m not.” She looked up at him. “I should go back to bed.”

“In a minute.” He pulled on the bottom of the t-shirt. “This is mine. Were you gonna sleep in it?”

She hadn’t thought about it. “It’s all I have.”

He shook his head, “Take it off.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Take it off. You say you’re not wet. Well then show me.”

“Niko.”

“Take off the shirt, Erin”

Her hands trembled as she grabbed the hem. She pulled it up over her head, the cotton catching on her hard nipples, rubbing against them. She felt her wetness increase immediately as she let the shirt drop to the floor. The air was cool on her bare skin.

He looked at her. Not with amusement like earlier. But with hunger. “I’m going to take care of you now,“ he said matter of fact. “Try to stay quiet. I would rather you not wake up Kira. Or your husband.”

He kissed her. His mouth covered hers, his tongue sliding in before she could think to turn away. She tasted salt and tequila and something darker, musky. Her own taste.

Her hands came up, flat against his chest. She meant to push. Her fingers curled into the hard planes of his stomach instead.

“Up,” he said against her lips, his voice a low vibration. His hands closed around her waist, fingers digging in. He lifted her like she was nothing, setting her down on the cold porcelain of the pedestal sink. The edge bit into the backs of her thighs.

“Niko.”

“Shhh.” He stepped between her legs, spreading them wider with his hips. The bathroom was so small his knees bumped the vanity cabinet. “Hands on the counter.”

She put her palms flat on the cold surface behind her, bracing. He looked down between their bodies. Her chest was rising and falling too fast. His shorts were tented, the fabric straining.

“Look at me,” he said.

She dragged her gaze up from his cock to his face. His eyes were dark, focused. He wasn’t smiling.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and pushed them down, just enough. His cock sprang free, thick and already leaking. He gripped himself at the base, the head nudging her inner thigh. She was so wet it left a slick trail on her skin.

Her throat worked. “I can’t.”

“You’re dripping on my sink.”

She shook her head, a tiny, frantic movement. Her nipples were so hard they ached.

He leaned in, his mouth at her ear. “If I’m wrong, all you have to do is say so.”

She said nothing. Her breath hitched. The silence stretched, filled by the hum of the vent fan.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock pressing against her entrance. He pushed in an inch, just enough to stretch her. She gasped, her fingers scrabbling on the porcelain.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes closing for a second. “You’re so wet.”

He pushed deeper, a slow, inexorable slide. Her head fell back. It was a stretch, a burning fullness that made her toes curl. He filled her completely, his hips meeting hers, his pubic bone grinding against her clit.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice tight.

She managed a nod. Words were gone.

He began to move. Slow, deep thrusts that rocked her whole body on the sink. Each withdrawal was agony. Each return was relief. The wet sound of their joining was obscenely loud in the tiled room.

“Look at yourself,” he said, nodding toward the mirror above the sink.

She turned her head. Her reflection was blurred, her hair wild, her lips parted. His body moved behind hers, his hands braced on the counter on either side of her hips. Her breasts jiggled with each thrust. She watched his face over her shoulder, the concentration there, the pleasure.

“See how you take it,” he grunted. “See how bad you wanted this.”

He picked up the pace. The sink creaked in protest. Her back arched, seeking more friction. He angled his hips, hitting a spot that made her cry out. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

He pulled her hand away. “No. I want to hear you.”

“Will—”

“Is asleep. And you’re here. With me.” His thrusts became harder, sharper. “Come on. You know how.”

Her orgasm built too fast, a coiled spring in her belly. It tightened with every slam of his hips. She was babbling, “Please, please, please,” into the humid air between them.

“That’s it,” he urged. His fingers found her clit, rough and perfect. “Let go.”

It broke over her, a silent, shuddering wave that locked her muscles and stole her vision. She squeezed around him, pulsing, her body milking his cock deep inside her.

He fucked her through it, his rhythm stuttering. “Turn around,” he growled, pulling out of her suddenly.

She was boneless, compliant. He helped her pivot on the narrow sink, her back to his chest. He guided her hands to the edge of the counter. “Hold on.”

He entered her again from behind, one hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head up so she faced the mirror. “Watch.”

She watched. She watched his hands, big and tanned, gripping her hips. She watched the sweat gleam on his shoulders. She watched her own face, flushed and slack with pleasure, her mouth open in a soundless ‘o’.

“This is what you are,” he said, his voice ragged. His thrusts were punishing now, driving her into the counter. “You’re a good wife in the other room. You’re this in here.”

He was close. She could feel it in the tension of his body, the short, frantic snaps of his hips. She was overstimulated, raw, but a new heat was gathering again, low and desperate.

“I’m gonna come inside you,” he panted. “Where your husband should be. You want that?”

She couldn’t speak. She nodded, her forehead resting against the cool mirror.

“Say it.”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper, torn from her.

He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, and slammed into her one last time. She felt him pulse, hot and endless, filling her up. His body shuddered against her back, his forehead dropping between her shoulder blades.

They stayed like that, locked together, breathing hard. The vent fan hummed. Somewhere in the cabin, a floorboard creaked.

He softened inside her, slipping out. A trickle of his release followed, warm down her inner thigh. He stepped back, pulling up his shorts. He ran a hand through his hair, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

Erin didn’t move. She stared at the smudge her breath had left on the mirror.

Niko turned on the faucet, splashed water on his face. He didn’t look at her. “You should get your husband to bed.”

She slid off the sink. Her legs nearly buckled. She caught herself on the vanity. Her discarded panties were still in the trash. His t-shirt was on the floor. She left them there.

She walked naked out of the bathroom, across the dim living room. Will was where they’d left him, sprawled on the couch, his mouth slightly open. She shook his shoulder gently. “Will. Come to bed.”

He mumbled, eyes still closed, and let her guide him to his feet. She half-carried, half-walked him to the bedroom they were supposed to share, lowering him onto the mattress. He was asleep again before his head hit the pillow.

She climbed in beside him, pulling the sheet up to her chin. His body was warm, familiar. He sighed in his sleep and draped an arm over her, pulling her close. She lay stiff in his embrace.

She could feel it. A slow, persistent leak between her legs, soaking into the sheets beneath her. Will’s arm tightened around her waist. He murmured something into her hair. It sounded like “love you.”

She stared at the dark ceiling, listening to the waves, and didn’t sleep at all.