Cabin Mates' Midnight Ski Lodge Orgy

I never expected a blizzard to change everything.

The four of us had booked the remote ski-lodge cabin as a last-minute reunion trip—me, Kayla, the 21-year-old college junior who still felt like the little sister tagging along, and the three guys I’d grown up calling my stepbrothers from our various blended-family disasters. Jake, 24, the cocky snowboarder with the perpetual smirk and sun-bleached hair. Marcus, 26, the quiet ski instructor whose calm green eyes always seemed to see too much. And Tyler, 23, the flirty bartender whose dirty jokes could make a nun blush.

The storm hit harder than anyone predicted. All shuttles were canceled. The roads were buried. We were snowed in for the night in a one-room loft with a single king bed, a pull-out couch, and a wood-burning stove that turned the small space into a sauna no matter how much we cracked the windows.

We’d already killed two bottles of whiskey by nine o’clock. The fire crackled loud in the silence between us. We were all in sweatpants and hoodies, sprawled across the giant bed like we used to do during family vacations, but this time the energy felt different. Thicker. Restless.

Jake took a long pull from the bottle and passed it to me. “Truth or dare, Kayla.”

I laughed, but my pulse was already racing. “We’re not sixteen anymore.”

“Exactly,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Truth.”

I took the whiskey. The burn helped. “Fine. Truth.”

His smirk deepened. “How long have you been touching yourself while thinking about us?”

The room went dead quiet except for the fire. I felt my cheeks flame, but the alcohol and the way all three of them were watching me made me brave.

“Since I was nineteen,” I admitted, voice husky. “All three of you. Separately. Sometimes all at once.”