Naked Stepmom And My Inability To Get Dressed

Trent stepped out of the steamy bathroom with the towel clenched tight around his waist, water still beading on his shoulders and trailing down the hard lines of his chest. At twenty-two he had the lean, rangy build of someone who spent more time moving than sitting still, dark hair dripping onto the towel’s edge. His bedroom door stood half-open the way he had left it. He pushed it wider and stopped dead.

Petra was already inside.

She stood barefoot on the rug between him and the dresser, completely naked, calmly folding a stack of his clean T-shirts as if she belonged there. Forty-one looked outrageous on her. Full, heavy breasts swayed with every small movement, nipples already tight from the cool air of the room. Her waist nipped in above the soft curve of her belly, then flared into wide hips and a round ass that shifted whenever she turned. Between her thighs her pussy was smooth, bare, the slit neat and visible when she angled her legs. She glanced up, caught his frozen stare, and gave him a slow, easy smile.

“You’re dripping on the floor,” she said, voice low and unhurried. She set another folded shirt on the pile. “I figured I’d put these away while you were in there.”

Trent’s throat worked. He could smell the clean scent of laundry detergent mixed with the warmer, skin-deep scent of her body. His cock stirred under the towel at once, lengthening against the damp terry cloth. He stayed rooted just inside the doorway, one hand locked on the towel knot at his hip.

“I—I can do that,” he managed. “You didn’t have to…”

“I know.” Petra smoothed a pair of his boxers flat, then folded them with deliberate care. Her breasts hung free, swinging gently. When she reached for the next item the motion made them bounce, soft flesh lifting and settling. She didn’t cover herself. She didn’t even glance down. She simply kept working, standing squarely in the path to the dresser drawers where the rest of his clothes waited.

He couldn’t walk past her without brushing skin. The realization locked his feet to the floor. Heat flooded his face and raced lower. The towel tented slightly as his cock thickened, the head already starting to push against the fabric. He shifted his weight, trying to ease the sudden pressure, but there was nowhere to go.

Petra’s eyes flicked to the growing bulge and lingered. A small curve touched the corner of her mouth. She turned sideways to reach the laundry basket on the bed, giving him a full profile of her body—the heavy underswell of one breast, the smooth plane of her stomach, the neat bare mound and the shadowed cleft beneath it. She bent just enough to lift another shirt. The position opened her thighs a fraction; he saw the soft outer lips part, the hint of pink inside.

“You’ve got quite a few things mixed up in the wash,” she said conversationally. “I pulled out the ones that looked like yours.” She straightened, holding a pair of his jeans by the waistband, and folded them slowly against her bare stomach. The denim brushed her nipples. She didn’t flinch. “You can come get dressed whenever you’re ready. I’m almost finished.”

He wasn’t ready. His cock was fully hard now, straining under the towel, the ridge of it obvious. Every breath made the fabric rub. He tightened his grip on the knot until his knuckles whitened. Petra’s gaze dropped again, open and unashamed, watching the way the towel jumped with his pulse.

“You’re staring,” she observed, almost gently. She set the jeans aside and stepped closer to the dresser—still blocking it, still completely bare. Her ass brushed the front of the drawers. She opened the top one anyway, sliding a stack of folded shirts inside with unhurried movements. The motion made her cheeks flex. When she turned back she faced him fully again, breasts on display, pussy bare and right there.

Trent’s mouth had gone dry. He could feel wetness at the tip of his cock where it pressed the towel. “You’re… right in the way.”

“I noticed.” Petra’s voice stayed calm, almost fond. She picked up a pair of socks, rolled them together against her palm, then set them neatly in the open drawer. Her free hand rested lightly on her hip, fingers curving inward so that the tips nearly brushed the top of her smooth mound. “I can move when I’m done. Or you can walk around me. Your choice.”

He couldn’t do either. Walking around meant sliding past those breasts, that bare pussy, the heat of her skin. Moving closer meant she would see exactly how hard he was. The towel was already failing him; the head of his cock had begun to nudge the upper edge, dark and flushed. A bead of moisture darkened the fabric.

Petra watched it happen. Her nipples tightened further. She took one small step toward him—not enough to free the dresser, just enough that the space between them shrank. The clean laundry scent mixed with something warmer, the faint musk of her bare skin. She reached out and adjusted the towel at his waist with two fingers, tugging it an inch higher as if she were only being helpful. The brush of her knuckles grazed the hard length underneath. Trent sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re making a mess of this towel,” she murmured. Her fingers stayed a moment longer than they needed to, resting against the thick outline. Then she let go and turned back to the laundry, giving him another view of her ass and the smooth cleft between her thighs. She bent to retrieve the last shirt from the bed. The position presented everything—full hanging breasts, the soft curve of her belly, the open display of her shaved pussy lips parting slightly with the stretch.

Trent’s cock throbbed hard enough to hurt. He stayed frozen, towel clenched, unable to advance or retreat. The dresser might as well have been on the other side of a wall. Petra straightened, folded the final shirt with unhurried precision, and slid it into the drawer. She closed it with a soft click, then leaned her bare hip against the wood, still planted squarely between him and every scrap of clothing he owned.

“All done,” she said. Her eyes traveled slowly down his chest, over the white-knuckled grip on the towel, and settled on the shameless tent of his erection. She didn’t look away. “Whenever you’re ready to get dressed, just say the word. I’ll step aside.”

She made no move to do it. One hand rested on the dresser edge; the other drifted idly across her own stomach, fingers tracing low enough that they skimmed the top of her bare mound. She waited, calm and naked, while Trent stood dripping and hard and trapped, the towel the only thing left between them and the thick, aching cock he couldn’t hide. The air in the room felt hotter with every second she remained exactly where she was.

Petra’s gaze locked on the thick ridge tenting the towel, and the corner of her mouth curved higher. She turned with deliberate slowness, bare feet pivoting on the rug until she faced him fully again. Her heavy breasts swayed into place, nipples drawing into tight, dark peaks under his stare. Cool air and open hunger made them pucker further. She let him look her fill—smooth belly, wide hips, the bare split of her pussy already glistening faintly between her thighs.

“I’ve thought about this exact second for months,” she said, voice low and steady. “You walking out of that shower, nothing but a towel, me standing here naked and in the way. Watching that cock get hard because you can’t hide it. I’ve woken up wet from it more times than I can count.”

Trent’s breath punched out of him. The towel jumped hard against his fist. Heat flooded his neck and chest; his cock throbbed so fiercely the head nudged free of the terry cloth, flushed and wet. He couldn’t look away from the open truth on her face, or from the way her thighs shifted, a slick sheen catching the light along her slit.

“I wanted it too,” he managed, the words rough. “Every time you walked past me in those thin robes, every time I heard the shower and knew you were bare in there—I jacked off thinking about barging in. About putting my hands on you. I’ve wanted to fuck you so long it hurts.”

The admission hung between them, raw and mutual. Petra’s eyes darkened. She stepped closer still, close enough that the heat of her body brushed his damp skin. One hand rose and traced a single fingertip along the towel’s edge, then lower, grazing the exposed head of his cock. A bead of precum welled and wet her skin. She smeared it slowly, watching his hips jerk.

“Then stay hard,” she murmured. “You don’t need to get dressed yet.”

She turned away from him and walked to the bed with unhurried grace. Laundry forgotten, she planted both palms flat on the mattress and bent forward at the waist. The position thrust her round ass back toward him, cheeks spreading. Her wet pussy opened on full display—pink inner lips swollen, slick with clear arousal that already coated the tops of her thighs. She arched her lower back, presenting everything, and glanced over one shoulder.

“Come look if you want. I won’t move until you do.”

Trent’s grip on the towel finally failed. It dropped to the floor in a damp heap. His cock sprang free, thick and veined, the head shiny and dark, a long string of precum connecting to his stomach for a second before it broke. He crossed the short distance on unsteady legs and stopped right behind her. The scent of her cunt rose warm and musky. He could see the tiny flutter of her hole, the way her outer lips parted wider with every breath she took.

Petra reached back with one hand and spread herself for him, two fingers framing her dripping entrance. “I’ve imagined you staring just like this. Imagined that big cock sliding between these cheeks, rubbing through all this wet until you couldn’t stand it.” She rocked her hips once, slow, so that her pussy lips kissed the empty air an inch from his shaft. “Touch it if you want. Or don’t. Either way I’m staying bent over until you decide.”

He did touch. His palm landed heavy on one full cheek, fingers sinking into soft flesh. He squeezed, pulled her open farther, and dragged the pad of his thumb through her folds. Slickness coated him instantly. She was soaked, hotter than he expected, the inner walls fluttering when he pressed just the tip of his thumb against her hole. Petra moaned low and open, pushing back into the pressure.

“That’s it,” she breathed. “Feel how ready I am. Months of wanting this—wanting you hard and trapped and staring at my cunt. Keep going.”

Trent’s free hand wrapped his own cock. He stroked once, twice, smearing her wetness from his thumb onto his shaft, then rubbed the blunt head up and down her slit. Every pass gathered more cream. He notched himself at her entrance without pushing in, just resting there, feeling the flutter and the heat, while she rocked microscopic circles against him. His balls drew tight. Precome pulsed out of him in steady drips that mixed with her juices and ran down the insides of her thighs.

Petra’s voice turned huskier. “I’ve thought about you bending me over this exact bed. About you holding my hips and burying every inch while I talk dirty the whole time. About how loud I’d get once you finally gave it to me. Tell me you’ve pictured the same thing.”

“I have,” he ground out. His hips rolled forward just enough that the head parted her lips and sat inside the first half-inch. They both groaned. He held still, trembling, the squeeze of her entrance a slick ring around him. “I’ve pictured fucking you until you couldn’t walk. Until the whole house heard. I’ve wanted your tits in my mouth and your ass in my hands and this pussy wrapped around me for years.”

She pushed back another fraction, taking a little more of him, then eased forward again so only the tip remained. The deliberate tease made his thighs shake. “Then don’t get dressed. Stay naked. Keep that cock right where it is and tell me more.”

He leaned over her back, chest to her spine, and reached under to cup both heavy breasts. They spilled into his palms, nipples hard diamonds against his fingers. He rolled them, tugged, and felt her cunt clench harder around his cockhead. Petra’s moan vibrated through both of them. She kept rocking—tiny, filthy movements that suckled at him without ever letting him sink deeper.

“You’re dripping down my legs,” she said, half laugh, half gasp. “I’m going to make a mess of this comforter if you keep teasing me like that. Or maybe I want the mess. Maybe I want you to paint my ass first and then shove inside while it’s still wet.”

Trent’s control frayed. He released one breast, slid that hand down her stomach, and found her clit with two fingers. He rubbed tight circles while he fucked just the head of his cock in and out of her entrance in shallow, wet strokes. The sound filled the room—slick, filthy, rhythmic. Petra’s arms trembled on the mattress. She dropped to her elbows, arching harder, offering everything.

“Yes—right there. Don’t stop.” Her voice cracked open. “I’ve fingered myself raw thinking about your hands and your mouth and that thick cock. I’ve come so many nights with your name in my mouth. Now you’re here, hard, naked, and I’m not moving until you use me.”

He circled her clit faster. His cockhead swelled thicker inside the kiss of her pussy. Every muscle in his body locked against the urge to slam forward and bury himself. Instead he kept the shallow glide, coating himself in her cream, watching the stretch of her lips around him on every tiny thrust. Sweat beaded down his chest and dropped onto the small of her back.

Petra reached between her own legs, found his shaft, and stroked what she could reach—slick fist working the inches still outside her. “I can feel how close you are already. You could come just like this, couldn’t you? Rubbing that head through my cunt until you spill all over my ass. Or you could shove in and fill me. Your choice. I’m not getting up. You’re not getting dressed. We stay right here until one of us breaks.”

Trent’s forehead dropped to her shoulder. He bit the skin lightly, tasting salt, and kept working her clit while his cock pulsed in warning. The pressure built low and relentless. Her walls fluttered harder, milking just the tip. She was close too—he could hear it in the broken pitch of her breathing, feel it in the way her thighs trembled and her fingers tightened around his shaft.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he growled against her neck. “Not yet—but soon. I’m going to hold you open and take every inch while you tell me how long you’ve wanted it. And you’re going to stay bent over this bed until I decide we’re done.”

Petra’s answering moan was pure hunger. She pushed back again, swallowing another half-inch of him, then held still, quivering. “Then keep me here. Keep me naked and dripping and waiting. I won’t reach for a single stitch of clothing until you’ve ruined me.”

His free hand left her breast only long enough to crack across one full cheek—sharp enough to leave a blooming pink print. She cried out and clenched around him so hard he almost lost it. He soothed the sting with his palm, then delivered another smack to the other side. Her pussy fluttered wildly. More wetness flooded out around his cockhead and soaked his balls.

He straightened just enough to look down the length of her spine, to watch his thick shaft disappearing and reappearing in those shallow thrusts, her pink handprints vivid on pale flesh, her fingers still working the base of him. The sight burned into him. He wanted to drive home. He wanted to bury himself and grind until she came screaming. Instead he pulled almost free, rubbed the head up through her folds to her clit, then notched it again—over and over—until both of them shook with the deliberate denial.

Petra’s voice dropped to a raw whisper. “I can feel you throbbing. I know you want inside. Keep teasing me just like this and I swear I’ll beg. I’ll stay bent over and open for as long as you need. Just don’t put that towel back on. Don’t get dressed. Stay hard for me.”

Trent’s answer was a deep groan and another slow, shallow plunge that left them both trembling on the edge. The room smelled of sex and clean laundry and skin. His cock ached, glossy with her, inches from sinking home. Her ass stayed high, presented, waiting. Neither of them moved to finish it—yet. The air crackled with the next inevitable second, every muscle coiled, every breath a promise that the real fucking was only heartbeats away.

Trent’s hips stuttered once more against the slick kiss of her entrance, the head of his cock pulsing hard enough that another thick bead of precum spilled into her. Petra’s fingers stroked the shaft that remained outside, twisting on the upstroke, her own free hand still framing her stretched lips so he could watch every shallow inch disappear and reappear. The denial cracked.

“On your knees,” he growled, pulling free with a wet pop. His cock bobbed heavy and shiny between them, the vein along the underside throbbing. “Now.”

She turned without hesitation, dropping to the rug in one fluid motion. Her heavy breasts swayed and settled as she settled between his spread feet, bare knees parting so she could reach between her own thighs. One hand wrapped the base of his shaft; the other slid straight to her dripping cunt, two fingers plunging deep with a soft, wet sound. She looked up at him through dark lashes, mouth already open, and took him to the root in a single greedy swallow.

Trent’s head fell back. Heat and wet pressure sealed around every inch—throat muscles working, tongue pressing the underside, spit already running down his balls. She sucked hard on the way up, cheeks hollowing, then sank again until her nose pressed his stomach. Sloppy, wet noises filled the room. Spit strings stretched from her lips to his cock each time she pulled off to breathe, only to dive straight back down, gagging softly when the head punched the back of her throat. All the while her fingers fucked herself in matching rhythm—fast, filthy circles that made her moan around his length, vibrations racing straight into his spine.

“Fuck—look at you,” he rasped, one hand fisting her hair just tight enough to guide. “Taking every inch like you were starving for it.” He watched her throat bulge, watched the way her free breasts bounced with every bob of her head, nipples dragging against his thighs. Her fingers glistened when they slipped free to rub her clit, then plunged back in. She was soaked, the wet sounds of her cunt almost as loud as the blowjob. Trent’s balls drew up tight; he had to ease her off before he spilled.

Petra’s lips were swollen and shiny when she released him. A thick string of spit connected her bottom lip to the flushed head. She kept fingering herself, eyes locked on his cock as it jerked in the open air, gleaming with her spit. “I need it inside,” she panted. “Hard. Now.”

He hauled her up by the arms, spun her, and bent her over the edge of the mattress again. This time there was no teasing. He notched the thick head against her entrance, gripped both hips hard enough to leave marks, and slammed home in one brutal thrust. Petra cried out—raw, open, delighted—as her cunt stretched wide around him, walls fluttering and gripping. He bottomed out, balls flush to her clit, and stayed buried for one heartbeat so she could feel every ridge.

Then he fucked her.

Hard, possessive strokes that made her ass ripple with every impact. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed off the walls. He watched his cock disappear into her pink, swollen pussy over and over, her cream frothing white around the base, coating his shaft and dripping down her thighs onto the comforter. Petra pushed back to meet every thrust, breasts swinging heavily beneath her, nipples brushing the sheets. One of his hands left her hip to crack across her ass again—once, twice—leaving fresh red prints that made her clench harder.

“Deeper—yes, just like that,” she moaned, voice breaking on every pounding stroke. “I’ve wanted this cock wrecking me for months. Don’t you dare slow down.”

He didn’t. He folded over her back, reached under to maul both tits, pinching and rolling the nipples while his hips kept driving. The angle changed; the head of his cock dragged over that spot inside her that made her legs shake. Her moans climbed higher, turning into broken cries. He felt her start to flutter, the first warning ripples of her orgasm, and pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in to the hilt.

“Come on it,” he ordered against her ear. “Soak my cock while I fuck you stupid.”

Petra shattered. Her cunt clamped down in hard, milking pulses, juice flooding out around him and running in thick rivulets down both their legs. She screamed into the mattress, body jerking, ass pushing back greedily for every last thrust through the climax. Trent rode it out, grinding deep, feeling every flutter, until her knees nearly gave.

He flipped her before she could recover. One smooth motion lifted and turned her onto her back in the middle of the bed. He hooked her knees over his elbows, spread her wide, and drove back into that still-spasming heat in a single long stroke. Petra’s arms flew around his neck; her legs locked at the small of his back, heels digging in to pull him deeper. The new angle let him bottom out completely, cockhead kissing her cervix on every thrust. Her tits bounced with the force. He dropped his mouth to one, sucking the nipple hard while he pounded her open.

“Wrap tighter,” he rasped against her skin. “Feel how deep you take me.”

She did—legs clamping, cunt fluttering again already. Sweat slicked both their bodies. The wet, rhythmic slap of his hips against hers filled the room, mixed with her moans and the filthy suck of her pussy each time he withdrew. Trent braced on one forearm beside her head, the other hand sliding between them to rub her clit in tight, relentless circles. Petra’s eyes rolled. Her nails raked his back. Another orgasm built fast, her walls starting to flutter and seize.

“I’m—fuck, I’m coming again—”

He kept the pace savage, grinding the base of his cock against her clit on every downstroke while his fingers worked her. She came with a broken sob, legs shaking around him, cunt locking down so hard he had to fight to keep thrusting. The milking pulses dragged him right to the edge. His balls drew tight, the first warning pulse racing up his shaft.

Trent pulled free with a wet sound just as the first thick rope of cum erupted. He stroked himself hard and fast, aiming across her heaving tits and soft stomach. Rope after rope of hot white cum striped her—across both nipples, pooling in the valley between her breasts, painting her belly in heavy arcs that dripped toward her still-twitching pussy. Petra moaned through it, hands sliding through the mess, smearing it over her nipples and down to her clit while aftershocks rolled through her. Her legs stayed wrapped loosely around his hips, holding him close even as the last pulses dribbled onto her mound.

He stayed kneeling between her spread thighs, cock still half-hard and glistening, chest heaving. Cum dripped from her tits onto the sheets. Petra looked up at him, eyes dark and hungry, fingers still lazily circling through the mess on her stomach.

“Not finished,” she whispered, voice raw. “You’re still hard enough. And I’m still naked. Still blocking every drawer you own.” She lifted one cum-smeared hand and wrapped it back around his shaft, stroking slow, feeling him thicken again under her palm. “Stay right here. We’re not done letting you get dressed.”

He hardened fully in her slick fist before either of them spoke again. Petra kept the slow twist of her wrist, thumb smearing the fresh bead that welled at the tip, while her other hand stayed busy on her own stomach, dragging cool trails of his earlier load across her ribs and the undersides of her breasts. Trent braced on his knees between her open thighs, watching the way her bare pussy still fluttered from the last climax, lips puffy and shiny, a thin line of cream leaking toward the sheets.

“Inside this time,” she said, voice low and certain. “I want to feel it when you fill me.”

He didn’t answer with words. He hooked her knees higher, folded her almost in half, and sank back into the wet heat in one long glide. Her cunt took him easier now, still swollen and greedy, walls fluttering around every ridge as he bottomed out. Petra’s breath left her in a broken moan; her hands flew to his shoulders, nails biting in. He stayed deep for three heartbeats, grinding the base of his cock against her clit, then drew back and drove home again—harder, faster, the wet slap of skin restarting like a metronome that had only paused.

She met every thrust. Her heavy breasts bounced and rolled with the force, the white stripes of cum on them glistening and shifting. Trent dropped his mouth to one nipple, tasting himself on her skin, and sucked while his hips kept pounding. The angle let him drag across the spot that made her thighs jump; he felt her start to tighten almost immediately, the first ripples of another orgasm already building.

“Don’t stop—right there, harder,” she gasped. Her heels locked at the small of his back, pulling him impossibly deeper. “I’ve waited too long to be quiet about this.”

He gave her exactly that. One forearm planted beside her head, the other hand sliding between their bodies so his fingers could work her clit in tight, merciless circles while his cock pistoned. The bedframe creaked. Sweat ran down his chest and dropped onto her belly, mixing with the cooling ropes already painted there. Petra’s eyes fluttered; her mouth fell open on a continuous stream of filthy encouragement—how thick he felt stretching her, how she could feel every vein, how she never wanted him soft again. Her cunt clamped down in sudden, rhythmic pulses.

She came with a raw cry, legs shaking hard enough that he had to pin her hips to keep thrusting through it. Juice flooded around his shaft, soaking his balls and the sheets beneath them. The milking pressure dragged him right to the edge, but he held off, grinding deep until the last flutters eased, then pulled free only long enough to flip her onto her stomach.

Petra went willingly, pushing up onto her elbows and knees, ass high. He mounted her from behind without pause, slamming back into that still-spasming heat until his hips met her cheeks with a wet smack. Both hands gripped her waist hard enough to leave fingerprints. He fucked her like he meant to bruise—long, punishing strokes that made her breasts swing beneath her and her moans turn guttural. Every withdrawal pulled strings of cream from her; every thrust shoved them back in. She reached between her own legs and rubbed her clit frantically, chasing a third climax while he used her.

“Come again,” he ordered, voice rough. “Soak me while I fill you.”

She did. The orgasm hit her harder this time—body locking, cunt strangling his cock in hard, rhythmic squeezes that pulled the first thick pulse straight out of him. Trent buried himself to the root and stayed there, cock jerking as he emptied deep inside her. Hot ropes flooded her, so much that it immediately leaked out around his shaft and ran down both their thighs in thick white rivulets. He kept rocking through it, shallow and possessive, until the last spurt left him and his arms started to tremble.

They collapsed sideways together, still joined. His cock softened slowly inside the warm mess he had made of her. Petra’s breathing was ragged; her skin shone with sweat and cum. For a long minute the only sounds were the settling of the bed and the quiet drip of fluids onto the already-ruined comforter.

She rolled to face him before he could slip free. Cum glistened across her tits, her belly, the insides of her thighs—some of it his first load, some of it fresh and leaking from her well-fucked cunt. Petra smiled up at him, slow and sated and still hungry. She ran two fingers through the thickest stripe across her left breast, gathered it, and painted it over her own nipple before bringing the fingers to her mouth and sucking them clean.

“Still not letting you get dressed,” she purred, voice husky with satisfaction. “You’re staying naked. We’re going to the shower next—hot water, my mouth on this cock again until you’re hard enough to bend me over the tiles and do it all one more time. Then maybe I’ll think about clothes. Maybe.”

She tugged him down into a slow, sensual kiss. Their tongues met lazy and deep; she tasted of salt and sex and the faint sweetness of his own release. Trent’s hands slid over the slick mess on her skin, cupping one heavy breast, feeling the way her heart still hammered under his palm. The kiss stretched, unhurried, bodies pressed flush from chest to thigh while the aftershocks faded and the plan for round two settled warm between them.

Then the quiet broke.

A car door slammed in the driveway outside—too familiar, too close. Emmett’s laugh carried faintly through the half-open window, followed by Sonia’s answering voice, bright and unguarded, keys already jingling as they headed for the front door. Trent’s entire body went rigid. The heat in his blood turned to ice in a single heartbeat. Petra felt it; her smile faltered against his mouth. They were still naked, still dripping, the room thick with the unmistakable reek of what they had done, laundry half-folded and forgotten, his towel in a damp heap on the floor like evidence.

He pulled back just far enough to see her face. The same hunger was there, but underneath it something tighter, uncertain. His cock slipped free of her with a soft wet sound, leaving another slow trickle of cum down her thigh. The sheets were ruined. The door downstairs opened. Footsteps crossed the entryway.

Trent’s throat closed. The ache of wanting her was still real, the taste of her still on his tongue, but a cold, sick weight settled in his gut and refused to lift. This was the house they all shared. In ten seconds someone would call a name up the stairs. In thirty they might walk past this exact doorway. Everything that had felt inevitable and perfect while she was bent over the bed now felt like a crack running straight through the middle of the only life he knew.

Petra’s fingers were still curled loosely around his wrist, sticky with what they had shared. She didn’t speak. Neither did he. The slow kiss was already over. Round two in the shower suddenly felt a thousand miles away, and the only thing left in the room was the sound of two people they both lived with moving through the house below, completely unaware—yet—of the mess waiting one flight up.