Seduced by Best Friend's Mom Pt. 03

After the divorce, I didn't fall apart. I didn't scream or throw anything. I didn't sob into a friend's lap while she whispered that I deserved better. I just sat at the edge of the bathtub in a pair of sweatpants I hadn't washed in three days and stared at my reflection like I didn't recognize it.

I was twenty-four years old. My son was four. And I had finally admitted out loud what I had been swallowing for years.

I didn't love him. I didn't respect him. And I couldn't stay.

He wasn't abusive. Not in the way that left bruises. But he was careless. Dismissive. Unkind in the way lazy men always are when they think no one is watching. He ignored our son, made promises and broke them, let me do all the heavy lifting and still acted like he was the one with the hard life. He'd sit on the couch while I cooked, cleaned, studied, worked double shifts and came home to dishes still in the sink. He called me emotional when I tried to talk. Crazy, sometimes. Said I should be lucky someone like him had married me.

So I left.

Not for someone else. Not out of impulse or revenge. I just couldn't look at him anymore without feeling like I had failed myself.

That was the beginning.

I was broke, exhausted, with a child who needed everything from me and not enough hours in the day to give it. I was studying medicine during the day, waitressing at night, sleeping in three-hour chunks. My textbooks were stained with formula and black coffee. I'd take my exams with unbrushed hair and an ache behind my eyes from crying in the car before class.

And somehow, I kept going.

I finished my degree. Took an assistant position at a small clinic outside of town. I was the youngest on staff, the prettiest, the least experienced, and I worked twice as hard to make them forget all three. Within a few years I was wearing the white coat. People started calling me doctor. Mothers asked for me by name. Teenagers trusted me. Nurses whispered when I walked past, not because I was scandalous, but because I made them feel small without ever raising my voice.

That was what I learned in those years. Power doesn't always look loud. Sometimes it looks like perfect posture. Like lipstick that never smudges. Like silence in a room full of people waiting for you to speak.

And then, when I had that foundation beneath me, when things finally started to feel solid, I let myself explore the other side of what I had been missing.

I started sleeping with men again. Briefly. Randomly. I wasn't dating. I didn't want relationships. I didn't want someone texting me good morning or asking me about my day. I just wanted to feel things again. I wanted to know if my body still worked, if it could still command a man to tremble without saying a word.

One of them stands out. Not because he was good looking, but because of how completely wrong it was.

He was old. At least fifty-five. A silver-haired, wide-shouldered man who ran the hardware store just outside the town. I went in for a screwdriver. He handed me a smile I could feel between my legs. The next day, I was in the backseat of his truck with my thighs spread and my skirt bunched up around my waist.

His name was Glenn. Or Greg. Something with a G. He had rough hands, big knuckles, arms like steel beams. I didn't even like him. He smelled like sawdust and aftershave, and he moaned like a man who hadn't been touched in years. But he called me a slut when I rode him. Told me I had a perfect pussy and came with his hand gripping my waist so hard it left bruises.

He made me come so hard that I almost passed out.

Afterward, he asked for my number. I gave him a fake one and never went back to that store again.

There were a few others. One worked at a gas station. One was a bartender I met when Sienna dragged me out drinking. A guy in his twenties who tried to call me baby while I sucked him off and came in under two minutes. A bouncer who pulled my hair while I rode him in a hotel bathroom and said my tits looked fake. Well duh. They were.

Eventually, it got boring. The chase. The awkward kisses. The predictable lines. I didn't want to be desired like that anymore. I didn't want to be a story some guy told to his friends after jerking off in the shower.

So I stopped.

I focused on my work. My son. My space. I redecorated the house. I bought soft sheets and warm lighting and a new mattress that held my body like a secret. I built a life that felt safe, structured, clean. Men still flirted. They always did. I was the hottest woman in town, maybe in the entire state. I knew it. I didn't pretend otherwise. But they wanted the image of me. The idea. They didn't want me.

So I stopped giving.

I didn't go celibate. I just got smarter. My drawer became my release. Toys chosen like tools, not distractions. A glass dildo for when I wanted pressure. A slim, curved vibrator for mornings after long shifts. My fingers on my clit under the covers while the rain tapped on the windows. I came when I wanted. How I wanted. It was mine. All of it.

There was nothing sad about it. No loneliness. Just autonomy.

My sexuality wasn't something I gave away anymore. It was something I owned. A storm in a glass case. A blade I only drew when I knew it would cut exactly where I needed.

And now, years later, with my son pretty much an adult and my life exactly where I want it, I feel that storm start to stir again.

But this time, I won't waste it. Not on strangers. Not on boys who don't know how to look at a woman without asking for something. If I let that blade come out again, it'll be for a reason. A real one.

And lately... there's been someone.

I've already tasted enough to know it isn't just curiosity. Not for me. There's something real there, pulsing underneath all that softness and silence. Something that shifts when he's too close. When I let him be close.

He doesn't know what he's feeling yet.

But I do.

And I want to see just how far he'll let me take it... before he breaks.

*********************************************************

The bell over the café door gave a quick chime as we stepped inside. The air was warm, filled with the scent of roasted beans, faint vanilla, and the low hum of quiet conversations layered beneath clinking cups. Afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, catching on the glassware and moving lazily across the floor like a slow tide.

I guided Sienna in with a light touch at her back, more gesture than pressure. She didn't say anything about it. Just glanced around once, eyes tracking the tables, and headed for one in the middle of the room.

We sat. Not near the windows. Not tucked into a corner. Just... centered.

She slipped off her sunglasses and set them next to her phone. Her nails were freshly done, pale pink with a glossy finish. She crossed one leg over the other and adjusted the strap of her top, even though it didn't need adjusting.

I didn't say anything yet. I just scanned the menu chalked on the wall, more out of habit than curiosity.

"Place looks better than it did last time," Sienna said, stretching slightly as she looked around. "Did they repaint?"

"They changed owners. Young couple bought it. She bakes, he does the espresso. The pastries don't taste like cardboard anymore."

She giggled. "Shame. I liked the cardboard."

The waiter came by, slim and young, eyes flicking between us just a little too long.

"Oat milk cappuccino," I said, glancing up briefly.

Sienna tapped her finger on the table. "Black Americano with a splash of vanilla. No cream."

He nodded and disappeared.

She leaned back, lips pursed. Her eyes landed on a crooked painting near the counter and stayed there.

"Remember when this place used to be full of high schoolers skipping class and pretending they were deep?" she said.

I smiled, just barely.

"You mean when we used to be them?"

She gave a soft laugh. "Speak for yourself. I've always been well-adjusted."

"Sure you have."

Her coffee came first. Mine followed. We didn't rush to drink. Sienna stirred hers absently, metal spoon clinking against ceramic.

Sienna's eyes slid over me. Her gaze was slow, deliberate, like she was taking inventory.

"You know," she said, stirring her coffee with a little spoon, "for someone who claims she's not seeing anyone, you sure as hell don't dress like it."

I raised an eyebrow and gave her a small smile. "It's just a blouse."

"It's a fuck-me blouse."

"It has buttons."

"Exactly," she said, leaning in. "And every man in this café is wondering how many they'd get away with unfastening before you stop pretending you don't like it."

I gave a quiet laugh and let my eyes drop to her top, thin and clinging, straps resting just far enough off her shoulders to suggest something. "Says the woman who came dressed like a Pilates instructor who cheats with the gym owner."

Sienna grinned and lifted her coffee to her lips. "Touché."

Her tone softened slightly after that, and she tilted her head. "So. How's Nate?"

I let out a breath, half a smile tugging at my mouth. "Moody. Hungry. Eighteen. Basically one long sigh in human form. Other than that he has been doing fine. I'm doing everything to keep him happy."

She nodded knowingly. "Teenage boys are just unprocessed chaos."

"That or walking hormone dispensers," I added. "His voice dropped again last week and I swear I almost called an exorcist."

Sienna laughed but it faded quickly as her thoughts turned inward. "Mine's doing alright. Quiet. Focused, I think. He doesn't talk to me much anymore unless it's about money or food. Guess that means he's healthy."

I studied her for a second, then she shifted in her seat, like she'd remembered something.

"Actually, since I have you..." She glanced around the café casually, making sure no one was too close. "He's been getting these weird dry patches on his upper arms. Red. A little itchy but not crazy. Is it eczema?"

"Could be," I said, keeping my tone light. "Could be detergent, could be stress, could be nothing. Has he been swimming?"

"A few times. The gym pool."

"Tell him to moisturize after and switch his body wash to something gentler. And if it doesn't clear up in a week, I'll give you something mild. No cortisone yet."

Sienna gave a small sigh of relief. "God, I love having you on speed dial. If I had to deal with an actual pediatrician, I'd probably strangle them in the waiting room."

"You're not allowed to strangle people. It ruins the highlights."

"Fair."

The conversation drifted naturally from there. I told her about the clinic, about the nurse who kept misfiling the chart notes, the teen patient who cried because I said the word "needle," and the father who tried to flirt with me in front of his wife by complimenting my bedside manner.

"He actually winked at me while she was in the room," I said, rolling my eyes. "Then followed up with a Yelp review that said I made his son feel 'safe and seen.'"

Sienna burst out laughing, nearly spilling her coffee. "What is it about dads and doctors? Like they think saying the word 'single' in a waiting room automatically gets them inside you."

"They can barely get inside a conversation."

We both laughed for a moment, that easy rhythm slipping back into place.

Then, after a pause, I glanced at her. "How's Liam?"

Her smile faltered for just a second. "He's fine. Work's been crazy. He's stressed."

"And?"

Sienna shrugged, reaching for her coffee again. Her voice lowered slightly, her tone dipping into something more honest. "We haven't really been... connecting lately."

I said nothing, just let the quiet fill the space between us.

She glanced sideways, then leaned in. "Our sex life's been shit. And I don't mean like... dry spell shit. I mean, I could lie there and read emails while it's happening and still finish them before he does."

I raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

"It's like he's trying to check it off a list. Like laundry or taking the trash out. No effort, no build-up, just 'Hey, we haven't in a while' and then he's inside me before I can fake interest."

I let out a small hum of sympathy. "That's rough."

"Yeah. And I don't want to be the cliché wife complaining about her marriage at a café, but..." She trailed off. "I miss being touched like I'm actually... I don't know. There."

I nodded once, slowly, letting her have that moment.

She shook it off with a sip. "Anyway, enough about my disappointing vagina. What about you?"

I blinked. "What about me?"

Sienna smirked. "Don't play dumb. I asked about Nate. About work. About the whole 'I'm a goddess in control of my destiny' thing. But I haven't heard a single word about who's been keeping you warm at night."

I tried not to react, but the smile crept up before I could stop it. Just the smallest curl of my lips. My eyes dropped for a breath.

And Sienna saw it. Of course she did.

She slapped her palm on the table, just loud enough to turn a few heads. "No. No, no. That was a look. That was a guilty look."

I raised my eyes to hers, calm again, smooth.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing doesn't make you smile like that. Spill it."

I looked around the café. Too many people. The couple behind us. The man reading his laptop three tables down. The girl at the counter with one earphone in. I leaned in, slow and casual.

"If you want to hear it," I said, voice low, "we should probably find a quieter table."

Sienna's eyebrows shot up. Her grin widened.

"I knew it."

I picked up my cup. She grabbed hers. And neither of us said a word as we stood.

The real conversation hadn't started yet. But it was already burning.

We slipped toward the quieter side of the café, through the little hallway with the tacky framed art and fake ivy crawling the walls. Back here, everything felt tucked away. Dimmer light, hushed voices, half-walls between tables like a secret whispered by the architecture itself. It was perfect. The kind of quiet that let a confession feel safe, even if it wasn't.

I slid into the booth first. Sienna followed, practically vibrating with anticipation. She was already grinning, like she'd cracked a safe just by asking the right question.

Me? I felt... steady. At least on the outside. Calm fingers wrapped around my cup, shoulders relaxed, eyes casual. But something low and quiet stirred in my stomach. Not fear. Not regret. Just the weight of what it meant to say it out loud. It was one thing to live in the moment. To take, taste, enjoy. But naming it? That was something else.

Sienna leaned forward, elbows on the table, coffee untouched. "Alright. Spill. Who is he?"

I looked at her, held the moment in my palm like a lit match, and smiled.

"You already know him."

Her brows lifted, eyes narrowing. "Wait. What?"

"You've met him. A few times."

She blinked and leaned back, scanning me like I had the answer written across my chest. "Someone from the clinic?"

I gave a soft hum and took a slow sip.

"No? Okay, okay. So someone from the gym. That one guy who offered to show you how to deadlift. You said he looked like a pornstar."

"He lifts with his tongue out," I said coolly. "I don't trust men who lift with their tongues out."

"Alright then," she muttered, dragging her thumb around the rim of her cup. "Not clinic. Not gym. What about the guy from the park? The one with the dog and the jogging stroller. You said he looked like he fucked like he had something to prove."

"That man had three kids and an ankle monitor."

Sienna laughed. "So?"

"So no."

She shook her head like I was the problem. "Okay. So someone unexpected. Someone outside the usual orbit."

I saw the smile start forming before she said it, and I already knew it would piss me off.

She leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Don't tell me it's that old single neighbor."

I stared at her. "What?"

"You know," she said, biting back a grin. "The one who waved at you through the blinds. Wore suspenders like it was still 1953."

My expression didn't change.

"Oh come on," she said. "It wouldn't be the first time."

I stared harder. "Are you referencing the man from the hardware store?"

She sipped her coffee with the most innocent look I'd ever seen on a liar. "I'm just saying."

"Never again," I said, flat. "Once was enough. I don't fuck men who smell like sawdust. Hell maybe even like cough drops and licorice."

"You said he made you come."

"I said I made myself come on him. Big difference."

Sienna burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. "Jesus, Val."

"No. Never again," I repeated, firmer now. "I've evolved."

"I'll believe that when your vibrator's batteries die."

I exhaled through my nose and sat back, crossing my legs under the table. "You're disgusting."

"Admit I'm entertaining."

"You're loud."

"I'm right."

I gave her a look.

She smiled like a devil in yoga pants, then threw her hands up. "Okay, I give up. I've officially exhausted every man in a five-mile radius. Who is it?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I lifted my coffee again, felt the heat kiss my fingers. I let the sip draw out, slow and easy, the way I took my time with anything worth savoring.

I put the cup down gently. Looked her dead in the eye.

And smiled.

I let the silence stretch. Not because I needed more time, but because I liked the weight of it. The way it made the air dense between us. Sienna sat across from me, coffee cupped in both hands, still half-smiling from her last guess, the tease still curling at the corners of her mouth. But her eyes, they'd shifted. She felt the shift. She knew I was holding something sharp behind my tongue. She was already leaning in.

I tilted my head just slightly, let the moment breathe. And then I said it.

"Jake."

One word. Soft. Clean. It landed like a drop of oil in water. Disruptive in a way you couldn't ignore.

She blinked once. Confused. Again, slower.

Silence.

I watched her face carefully, the way her brows pulled, the tiny furrow forming between them as her mind shuffled through names, memories, possibilities. Her brain was sprinting but not catching up.

Then her brow twitched. Her mouth opened slightly.

And I saw it... the flicker. That split-second moment when her thoughts stopped moving and landed. Recognition swept through her like a sudden chill.

"Jake..." she repeated, voice slower now. Careful. "Jake who?"

I didn't answer.

Just watched her.

Then it hit her like a brick behind the eyes.

"Wait..." She sat up straighter. "Jake Jake?"

Her eyes widened, voice catching on the edge of disbelief.

"As in... Nate's best friend?"

I nodded once, calm. Controlled.

Sienna stared at me like I'd just pulled the skin off my face and revealed a stranger. She sank back against the booth, coffee forgotten, mouth parted, eyes wide with the kind of disbelief that lived right next door to delight.

"No," she said, breathless. "No. No fucking way."

I let my fingers slowly circle the rim of my cup. The coffee had cooled by now. I didn't care. I wasn't drinking it for the heat.

She shook her head, like the words weren't fitting in her mouth right. "Jake? As in the quiet little Jake? Sweet Jake? The kid who brings his own charger and thanks you for letting him use the microwave?"

I kept my gaze steady. "That one."

"The one with the soft voice? The too-big hoodies? The one who always offers to help you carry groceries like he's auditioning for boyfriend of the year?"

I said nothing. I didn't need to.

"Oh my god," she breathed, like it had just fully landed.

I watched her. I didn't smile, not exactly. Just let the quiet stretch between us, thick and steady, rising like heat off the rim of my coffee. Sienna didn't speak, but she didn't need to. Her posture had changed. She was leaning in again, both hands wrapped around her cup like it could anchor her.

"How? When? Why? No-" she huffed a breath, waving a hand, "just start from the beginning. What the hell happened?"

I looked down for a moment, like the answer might be swimming in the dregs of my drink. I took my time gathering the words, not because I didn't know them, but because saying them out loud made them heavier.

"It wasn't anything at first," I said, quiet and even. "He was just Nate's friend. A polite kid who spent too much time in my kitchen."

Sienna raised an eyebrow. "And now he's not?"

I glanced up at her. "It started on his birthday."

Her lips parted slightly, one brow lifting in disbelief. "You make it sound like a curse broke."

"Maybe it did," I said softly. "It wasn't sudden. It wasn't dramatic. He didn't walk in on his birthday glowing and shirtless. He was still Jake. But I started seeing him... differently."

"Like how?" she asked, her voice softer now.

"His voice," I said, letting the memory settle over me. "It dropped. Not in some obvious, booming way. Just enough to make me notice. He laughed one day and it hit me in the chest. It sounded deeper. Older. Then I noticed his body. Not big, not bulky. Just... more there. His shoulders. The way he filled out his shirts. The way he stood."

Sienna listened like I was reading a suspense novel. Her eyes were wide, lips parted just slightly. I could tell she was trying to visualize it. Trying to see him the way I had.

"And then?" she asked.

"And then I caught myself watching," I said. "Longer than I should have. In the kitchen while he talked to Nate. On the back patio when he stretched his arms behind his head. At the lake when he peeled his shirt off and I had to look away before I stared."

Sienna's brows lifted, but she didn't interrupt.

"I told myself it was nothing," I continued. "That I was just tired. That I was bored. That I hadn't been touched in too long. That it was a phase."

I paused. Let that settle between us.

"But he looked back," I said quietly.

That made her sit up straighter.

"Not always," I added. "And not obviously. But sometimes. A glance too long. A hesitation when I spoke. Like he was hearing me in a different key. And he'd flush sometimes. Try to hide it. But I saw it."

Sienna's voice was low. "You think he's into you?"

I gave her a slow, sideways glance. "I think he might've had a crush on me for a while. Maybe even before I noticed him. But he had a girlfriend back then. He kept his hands folded. Kept his eyes polite."

"And now?"

"Now he's single. Quiet. But... very aware. Of me. Of how I move. Of what I say."

Sienna let out a sound like half a laugh, half a sigh. "Jesus."

I just wrapped my hands around the mug again. It was still slightly warm, but I liked the way it felt in my palms. Solid. Heavy. Contained.

"And you want him?" she asked, not teasing anymore. Just asking. Honest.

I let a long breath move through my chest.

"I don't know what I want," I said. "But I know how I feel when I'm around him. He's kind. Sweet. He listens when I talk. He doesn't try to perform for me. He's mature. More than most men twice his age."

"And he's eighteen."

I nodded. "And still more grounded than half the fathers I meet at the clinic."

Sienna blinked slowly, processing. "Val..."

I met her eyes.

She didn't say anything for a second. Then she whispered, "You're really doing this?"

I smiled, finally. Just a little.

Sienna tilted her head, studying me like I was a painting with too many layers. She wasn't smiling now. Just watching.

"You're falling for him."

I didn't blink. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

Her words sat between us like truth whispered too close. I sipped again. Let it settle in my mouth, warm but dulled, then set the cup down without a sound. She kept watching.

"Does he know what you want?" she asked, softer now. Not teasing. Just curious.

"No."

She paused. "Does he have any idea what he's walking into?"

That made me smile. A real one. Slow. Satisfying.

"That's the fun part."

She blinked. "Jesus. You're terrifying."

"Honest," I said, tilting my head slightly.

"What are you doing to him?"

I let my body sink deeper into the booth, letting the curve of my leg shift under the table, the heat of memory stirring low in my stomach.

"I'm teasing him," I said simply. "Slowly. Gently. Always close enough to feel. Never close enough to touch. Not unless I let him."

Sienna stayed quiet, lips parted now, eyes searching mine.

"I give him just enough to question it. To wonder if it's real or if he's just imagining it. I let my hand stay on his shoulder too long. I let him walk in while I'm in a towel. I send him texts that are little too flirty."

Her mouth opened a little more, but no sound came out.

"I don't chase," I said. "I lead. Quietly. Deliberately. I let him think it's his idea. But it never is."

She swallowed. "And what if he pushes back?"

I smiled again, slower this time.

"Then I'll know he's ready."

Sienna leaned closer, her voice down to a hush now. "You're playing with fire."

I didn't flinch. I didn't blink.

I looked her dead in the eye.

"I am the fire."

"So..." she breathed, eyes narrowing with heat, "have you actually done anything with him?"

I didn't answer right away. I just smiled. Deeper this time. The kind of smile that meant yes, but dared her to ask again.

She leaned forward, hands clenched around her cup. "Val..."

I just kept smiling.

"Oh my god." She whispered it, half-laughing, half-shocked. "What the fuck did you do to him?"

I glanced to the side, casually checking for anyone near enough to hear. The booth was private, hidden from the main walkway. No one was close. Still, I lowered my voice just enough to make her lean in.

"Friday," I said softly. "Early afternoon. I knew I'd run into him at the store. He always shops then. I made sure I looked good. I wore a white t-shirt tied at the waist and soft olive-green joggers. No bra. He approached me while I was at the self-checkout."

Sienna's breath caught. Her eyes didn't blink.

"I told him I needed help at home. Some boxes in the garage. A new hose to install in the backyard. Innocent stuff."

"You're unreal," she whispered.

I ignored that and kept going, dragging it out like I was unwrapping something.

"When he was done, i told him that we should go catch some sun together. Sun was perfect. We went to my patio and got ready. Looked back at him and I told him I needed sunscreen. Back first. Then front."

Sienna's lips parted.

"I was in a bikini. Small. Dark green. I laid out on my stomach and let him rub it in slow. I didn't give instructions. But let him know if he missed a spot. I let his hands find the edges."

"Holy shit."

"Then I rolled over."

"No."

"Yes."

I smiled again, letting the memory slide into my voice.

"I told him to do my front. He hesitated. I didn't move. I didn't cover up. He started at my stomach. Worked up. Around my tits, but close. I watched him while he did it. He was shaking. His hands were warm. Careful. Like I'd break. After he did my entire front except my tits. I told him he missed the most important part and pointed at my tits. Then his hands finally were on them. Gentle, but I could tell he wanted to squeeze them."

Sienna's legs shifted beneath the table. Her cheeks were flushed now, her breath quiet and unsteady.

"And?"

"I could've stopped there. But I didn't. That night, I told him to stay. Said it was too late to walk home. And I didn't want to drive him. He hesitated. I told him he could sleep here."

"You're evil."

I took a sip of my coffee. "I woke up in the middle of the night. Or maybe I never really slept. My hand drifted. I touched him. First outside the boxers. Then under. Just a finger. Then more. He was hard already. I stroked him once. Twice. Slowly."

Sienna leaned closer, eyes locked to mine, her lips parted like she was ready to breathe my words in.

"He woke up."

"Did he say anything?"

"No. Just shifted. Like he didn't know if it was real. He tried to move away. I didn't let him. I pulled him into me. His cock pressed into my thigh. I could feel how badly he wanted it. I told him I could fix it for him."

"And you did?"

"I sucked his cock," I said, voice like silk. "Slow. Deep. I let him finish in my mouth. He came so hard. I could barely keep swallowing his load. That was the biggest load I have ever seen."

"Val."

Sienna's voice cracked. She looked down at the table like she needed something solid to keep her there.

"There's more."

She looked up again, pupils wide now.

"The next night I put him in the guest room. Let him think it was over. Then I walked in after my late night shower. Just a silk robe. I sat on the edge of the bed. Talked for a minute. Let my leg brush against him. My tits were practically falling out. I kissed him. Just once. Soft."

"And then?"

"I touched him through the blanket. Let him know what he was missing. Then I left. I told him he knew where my room was."

Sienna's thighs pressed together under the table. She was breathing through her nose, lips parted. Her voice barely made it out.

"Stop."

I cocked my head. "Why?"

"I'm getting so wet, Val," she whispered. "And we're in a fucking café."

I smiled, slow and cruel. "There's more."

I shifted in the booth, the soft whisper of my thigh brushing against Sienna's as I slid in closer. Not an accident. Never with me. I tucked one leg beneath me and leaned in, my lips just shy of her ear. My breath was warm, steeped in coffee, sin, and satin.

My hand slid onto her thigh. Not too high. Not too low. Just heavy enough to make her feel it. Just firm enough to let her know what it could become. She didn't move. Couldn't. I felt the tension coil in her legs under the table, thighs drawn tight, aching for more.

"You want to know what happened next?" I murmured, my voice a thread of breath and heat. "Last night. After dinner. I offered Jake a ride home."

She nodded, slow, like the motion belonged to someone else. Her eyes were locked forward, afraid to look at me.

"I let him get in first," I said, fingers tracing lazy, silent circles into her thigh. "Watched him buckle in. He looked nervous. Sweet. Like he thought maybe the kiss earlier that night was a fluke. Like he didn't know what I wanted."

I moved in closer, my voice softening to a purr that curved around her ear. "So I parked a little down the road from his place. Told him there was something on my mind."

Her breath caught. I could feel her hand on the table, gripping it now, knuckles white, legs trembling beneath my fingers.

"Did you do anything in the car?" she asked, trying too hard to sound casual. Her voice cracked. My favorite kind of weakness.

I didn't answer right away. I smiled instead, slow and knowing, and let the silence ache between us.

"I leaned over the console," I said finally, my tone wrapped in velvet and sharp as a knife. "Unbuckled his seatbelt. Brushed his jaw with my fingers. Then kissed him. Soft at first. Then deeper. He made this little sound in his throat, barely a moan, more like a whimper. And I knew he was mine."

Her breathing grew shallow, her body tense and still under my touch.

"I broke the kiss and pulled off my shirt. No bra." I let the words fall like silk. "My tits were bare, hard nipples and all, just inches from his face while I leaned across the console. He didn't know if he could touch me. He wanted to. I let him."

She let out a soft sound, like something cracked and escaped her without permission.

"I took his hand," I went on, slower now, every word deliberate, "and brought it to my chest. And while he was there, I unzipped his jeans and wrapped my hand around his cock."

Her eyes fluttered closed. Her body sang tension.

"He was hard, leaking, throbbing in my grip. I stroked him slow. Gentle. Let him soak in the view. I whispered in his ear that I'd been wet all day just thinking about his cock. Then I slid his fingers into the waistband of my joggers. No panties."

Her jaw clenched. I saw her struggle to hold it in.

"I guided his fingers over my pussy. Let him feel how soaked I was. Then I pulled them out and told him to lick them for me. Slowly."

I flexed my hand against her thigh, then lifted it away, pulling back with purpose.

"I bent over him again," I said, sitting up straight now, sipping my coffee like I hadn't just ruined her. "Took him into my mouth. Deep. He moaned my name. He reached down, grabbed my ass, pulled my joggers down just enough to feel me. His fingers slid between my cheeks, down into my pussy, and started rubbing me hard while I sucked him."

Her hands were trembling. Her cup barely reached her lips. Her blouse clung to her chest, silk tight against her stiff nipples.

"He came in my mouth again," I said evenly, clean and clear. "So much. I swallowed all of it while he twitched in my hand."

She stared at me, her jaw clenched, her eyes wide. Her panties were gone. Her thoughts wrecked. Her control cracked open like a split seam.

I pulled my hand fully back. Slow. Soft. Cruel.

I shifted away from her, picked up my coffee, sipped.

She watched me like she didn't know whether to kiss me or collapse.

And I smiled. Because she finally understood. Nothing about me was safe.

"Calm down," I said, soft but firm, my hand brushing her thigh like I hadn't just soaked her panties with words alone. I stood from the booth, hips swaying as I walked to the counter, letting her sit there in her own heat, legs tight, breath jagged. She needed that minute. I wanted her to squirm with it.

Paid. Smiled. Walked back like nothing was wrong, like I hadn't just confessed to sucking off a boy half my age while making my best friend lose composure in a public café.

"You ready to go?" I asked.

She nodded like her spine barely worked. Good. I loved her like this, rattled, flushed, unsure who she was anymore.

We stepped out into the soft hush of afternoon sun, the parking lot almost empty, the breeze warm against bare skin. She stayed half a step behind me, quiet until we hit the pavement. Then she caught up, leaned in so close her lips nearly brushed my ear.

"I'm so fucking horny," she whispered.

I didn't answer. I just smiled. That wicked, slow pull of the lips I knew she hated and craved. I unlocked the car, slid in without comment, and watched her settle into the passenger seat like she was sitting on a live wire.

The engine purred under my hand. I pulled onto the street, her house already mapped in my head. But her thighs kept shifting. She was chewing her lip now, bouncing her knee just enough to make it obvious.

"Val," she said finally, voice wrecked, "I can't take it. I haven't had a minute alone in days. And my husband? He can't even get me off anymore."

I turned my head slowly. Let her see the look on my face. Pity. Amusement. Hunger. "Poor thing," I murmured.

"Please," she whispered.

So I turned off the road.

Found a street no one cared about. Trees. Fences. Silence.

I parked. Unbuckled my belt with one hand. Then turned to face her.

And kissed her.

No warning. No asking.

Her lips trembled against mine, and for one second she resisted, just enough to make it fun. Then she melted. Her mouth opened under mine, soft and hungry, her breath coming fast as she kissed me back like she'd been starving for it since I opened my mouth in that booth.

When I pulled back, her eyes were glassy. Her lips swollen.

"Be a good girl for me," I whispered, "rub your pussy."

She hesitated. Barely. Then nodded and went straight to her waistband, pants unbuttoned in seconds.

Her hand disappeared.

"Ahhh... fuck..."

She breathed the words like they were slipping out from somewhere between her legs.

I kissed her jaw, her neck, my tongue trailing heat down to the collar of her blouse while her fingers moved faster. *Slk... slk... slk...* The wet sounds were faint but filthy in the enclosed space. I sucked on her neck, squeezed one of her tits through silk, and felt her hips start to rock.

"You want my hand?" I murmured.

"Yes. Please- Val, please-" her voice cracked.

I reached in. Past the waistband. Past the damp mess of her panties. Found her clit.

"Fuck, Sienna," I growled against her ear, my fingers parting her folds, finding her clit like I'd owned it for years. I circled slow, once, twice and then faster. She gasped and her hips lifted right off the seat.

"Mmh... ahh.. right there...."

Her breath was stuttering. She sounded wrecked.

Then her hand found me. Slid into the back of my pants. Grabbed a handful of ass. And lower *ohh* her fingers brushed my tight little hole, rubbing soft circles over the sensitive skin.

I bit her lip when I kissed her again. My fingers never stopped. Her clit throbbed under my touch, and her moans were spilling straight into my mouth.

"Shit... fuck... "

She was panting now. Her legs twitching. Her body stuttering against mine.

"I'm gonna cum," she whimpered.

"Do it," I breathed.

Her thighs clamped around my wrist. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her whole body arched and trembled, and the slick sound of her pussy got louder *squelch... slk... slk...* as she fell apart on my fingers.

I didn't let up. Not until she was twitching from overstimulation, gasping for air.

Then I pulled my hand free.

Held it up.

"Be a good girl and taste yourself," I said.

She didn't hesitate.

Her mouth wrapped around my fingers, her tongue lapping up her own mess like it was holy. *Slurp... lick... mmm...*

I watched her. Tasted her on her lips when I kissed her again, deep and messy and perfect. Then I sat back. Buckled my seatbelt. Shifted into drive. She was trembling, undone, ruined.

By the time we pulled into her driveway, the sun had shifted. The front of her house was draped in warm gold, still and perfect. I shifted the car into park and turned toward her.

Sienna exhaled, like she'd been holding her breath the whole drive. She looked at me, her eyes soft but focused now. Rewired.

"Thank you," she said, her voice low. Real. "I mean it. That was... I didn't even know I needed that."

I gave her a slow smile. "You needed it the second you sat down across from me."

She smiled, but her gaze dropped for a second. Something heavier flickered behind her lashes.

"Do you think... this'll mess things up? Between us?"

I didn't rush my answer. I reached out and took her hand, it was warm, still trembling just a little. I squeezed.

"I helped my best friend come harder than she's come in years. That's not a threat to our friendship. That's what friendship should look like."

Her eyes lit up, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "You're dangerous, Val."

I leaned closer. "You'd do it for me."

"Of course," she said, without hesitation. "Any time."

She reached out then, quicker than I expected and kissed me on the cheek. A soft, lingering press of her lips. Then she wrapped her arms around me and held on, her body warm against mine, the scent of her skin still steeped in arousal. I felt her sigh into the hug like she didn't want to leave.

But she did.

She stepped out, smoothing her clothes, giving me one last look before she walked up the steps. I didn't start the car right away. I watched her disappear inside.

And then I let myself breathe.

My pussy was soaked. Not just damp. Drenched.

I could still feel the wet heat of Sienna's mouth on my fingers. The taste of her on my lips. The pressure of her hand against my ass. My body was buzzing, need curling tighter with every second I sat in that driver's seat.

And Jake.

Fucking Jake.

His face flashed behind my eyes the second I pulled out of her neighborhood. The way he moaned. The way he looked at me like I wasn't real. His cock in my mouth, twitching, pulsing. My hand stroking him while his fingers fumbled between my legs. Desperate. Innocent. His jaw clenched as he came, full-body shudder like he couldn't believe I swallowed all of it.

The thought made my clit throb.

By the time I pulled into my own driveway, I was biting my lip, thighs pressed tight, skin on fire. I parked, grabbed my keys, stepped out.

Today, I wouldn't be gentle with myself.

My nightstand drawer was going to earn its keep.

I crashed into my bed like my body had been waiting for this moment since the second I left the café. Clothes gone. Blinds drawn. Drawer open.

I didn't even hesitate. My fingers wrapped around the glass dildo, cool and hard and so familiar it felt like relief. My vibrator was already next to me, humming in my thoughts before I even turned it on.

I didn't need lube.

My pussy had been leaking since the drive. My pants were ruined, soaked through to the seat. I hadn't let myself come in weeks. Not properly. Not since Jake's hand was on my pussy and his cock spilling in mine. Even then, I didn't finish. I'd held myself back. Controlled it. Owned it.

But I wasn't controlling anything right now.

I dragged the dildo down through my folds and the way it slid was almost obscene. I was soaked. Lips swollen, clit already throbbing. The glass parted me so easily it almost slid in by itself.

*squelch... slk...*

I moaned. Quiet at first. More breath than voice. But I couldn't hold back for long.

My arm found a rhythm, pushing the dildo all the way in, then drawing it back out slow. Deep. Smooth. Full strokes.

*slk... slk...*

I spread my legs wider, my other hand gripping the sheets, my hips rolling up to meet every thrust. I closed my eyes. Let it take over.

Jake's face hit me first. His shy stare. His mouth open when I pulled my shirt off. The way his hands had trembled while cupping my tits. The way he tasted when he came in my mouth.

I moaned harder. My hand moved faster.

*slk... squelch... slk...*

I grabbed my left tit and squeezed, my fingers sinking into soft, heavy flesh. My nipple throbbed against my palm. My whole body was buzzing, my pussy tightening around the dildo with every thrust.

I needed more.

I shoved the toy in balls-deep and left it there, my body clenching around it. I reached for the vibrator, turned it on, and pressed it against my clit.

My body jumped. The jolt of it lit up my spine.

"Fuck yessssss..."

The pressure hit instantly. The vibrator sent tight, pulsing waves through me, my clit throbbing under it. I moved it in small circles, gasping as my legs trembled.

"Jake... fuck, Jake..."

My hips bucked. My tits bounced with every movement. I could feel the wetness dripping around the dildo, soaking the sheets.

*slk... squelch... slk... slk...*

My moans got louder. I didn't care. I wasn't holding back.

"Mmmfuck... gonna cum..."

The orgasm ripped through me without mercy. My body locked, then bucked, a shudder that rolled from my core out to my fingers, my toes, my throat. I pressed the vibrator harder, drew it out, rode it as long as I could.

*slk... slk... squelch...*

I finally let go. Let my head fall back. My mouth open, my breath gone. When it passed, I stayed like that. Sweating. Glowing. Soaked. I pulled the dildo out slow. It made a wet, thick sound as it slid free. *shlk... slk...*

Strings of slick juices stretched from my pussy to the toy. It dripped across my thigh. One drop landed on my stomach. I brought it to my mouth. I dragged it across my lips first. Tasted myself. Then sucked the whole head inside, hard.

*slurp... slurp... mmm...*

I didn't stop until it was clean.

I looked down. My tits were in the way but I could still see it. The mess I made. A full wet patch spread across the sheets. Proof of how hard I came. How badly I needed it.

I sat up. Exhaled.

Control returned like a shadow pulling back into place. I moved without thinking. Cleaned up. Got dressed in something soft and forgettable. No bra. No makeup. Just casual comfort.

Washed my faithful toys in the sink before I put them back into the nightstand drawer where they belonged.

That's when I heard the front door open. It was my son.

I walked downstairs with my body calm and clean, wrapped in comfort, but inside I was still humming, still wet, still aching faintly from what I had just done upstairs. I pushed it all down the moment I saw him.

Nate was kicking off his shoes by the door, hoodie half-off, his hair messy from the wind outside. My boy. My center. My line I wasn't supposed to cross.

We hugged and it grounded me. His warmth, his scent, the way he leaned into me for just a second longer than usual. It reminded me who I had to be and who I was to him. I smiled, kissed the top of his head, and told him I would make him a sandwich.

He followed me into the kitchen like he always did, plopped into one of the stools at the island while I moved with practiced ease. Bread, turkey, pickles, the kind of mustard he liked. Simple domesticity. It kept me still.

"How was your day, sweetheart?" I asked, slicing down the middle.

"Eh, same. Boring mostly. Gym was good, though."

"Yeah? You run?"

"A little. Jake was with me."

Just the name sent a subtle pulse through me. Like my body remembered before my brain could react. I paused, just a fraction too long, before sliding the plate in front of Nate.

"Oh? He didn't come with you?"

Nate shook his head, chewing. "No. He's been acting kind of off, I guess."

My hands were steady. My voice was smooth. "Off how?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. He's still Jake, just quieter than usual. Like, not in a bad mood exactly, just... not really himself."

I leaned against the counter and tilted my head. "You think he's okay?"

Nate nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think he's just feeling the whole breakup thing again. You know how he gets. Goes quiet, tries not to talk about it. He'll get through it."

I smiled gently, nodding along, playing the part I was always meant to play. The understanding mother. The warm voice in the room.

But I knew better.

I knew exactly why Jake had been distant. I knew why his mind was tangled. Why his mouth had gone quiet. He hadn't broken again over his ex. He had tasted something else. Something real. Something he wasn't supposed to have.

Me.

I watched Nate chew, completely unaware.

"You should tell him to come by next time," I said lightly. "I would've made something for him too."

"Yeah, I will. He probably just wanted space today."

I walked over and wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing my chin to his shoulder. "He'll bounce back. It's just a phase."

He nodded, finishing the last bite.

But I wasn't thinking about sandwiches anymore.

I was thinking about Jake. About the look in his eyes when I whispered to him in the car. About how his hands trembled on my skin. About how his cum filled my mouth and how he looked at me like he didn't know who he was anymore.

He was quiet because he was unraveling. And I needed to know how deep it went.

I smiled again. Said nothing.

But I would find out.

It was late. The house had quieted. The TV still hummed softly in the background, a forgotten show flickering on the screen. Nate stood up from the couch, stretched, then walked over to me, eyes half-lidded with sleep. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, that familiar warmth settling against my chest.

"I love you, Mom," he mumbled into my shoulder.

I cupped the back of his head and kissed his hair.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

He smiled, then turned and darted upstairs, feet light on the steps, door clicking shut a moment later.

I stared at the now-empty space he left behind. I could have gone to bed too. My body wanted rest, but my mind was chewing itself raw. There was one thread left tugging at me, coiling tighter with every hour.

Jake.

I picked up my phone. My fingers hesitated over the keyboard, thinking carefully. I couldn't come off too obvious. Too hungry. He needed to feel safe. Normal. Not watched.

Val [11:26 PM]

Hey you. Just checking in. You alright? Nate said you seemed a little quiet today.

I watched the screen. No reply. Not yet. I sighed, typing again, slower this time.

Val [11:27 PM]

You know you can talk to me if you need to. Or just come over. You know this house is yours too.

I sent it. Let it sit there, hanging in the dark.

My phone buzzed before Jake replied. Different name. Different heat.

Sienna [11:28 PM]

So. Serious question.

How the fuck are you going to keep playing with Jake when Nate's always around?

I stared at the screen, jaw flexing. Leave it to her to cut straight through the smoke.

Val [11:29 PM]

I haven't figured that out yet.

Sienna [11:29 PM]

Because if Nate catches wind of anything, their friendship's done. You know that, right?

You already broke one rule. How many more are you gonna twist before it snaps?

She wasn't wrong. She never was. But she also wasn't stopping me. That was what made her dangerous.

Val [11:30 PM]

If Jake wants more... I'll make it work.

I always do.

A pause. Three dots hovered for a while, then disappeared.

And then another buzz. Different name. My breath caught just slightly when I saw it.

Jake [11:32 PM]

Hey... yeah. I'm okay, I think.

Just been in my head too much lately.

Jake [11:32 PM]

Thanks for checking in. Most people don't notice when I go quiet. You always do.

That landed deeper than he knew. He wasn't talking about school. He wasn't talking about Nate. He was talking about me. About the thing neither of us could name yet without changing everything.

I waited a few seconds. Then typed slow. Careful. Intentional.

Val [11:34 PM]

That's because I pay attention to you. You matter to me, Jake.

Jake [11:35 PM]

Yeah. It feels like you do. I mean... I feel like you really do. I don't know how to explain it.

Val [11:36 PM]

You don't have to explain anything. I just want you to feel safe. With me. Always.

Jake [11:37 PM]

I don't feel like myself lately.

But I don't feel bad when I think about you.

Jake [11:37 PM]

Is that messed up?

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

No, Jake. That's not messed up.

That's exactly what I want.

Val [11:39 PM]

It's not messed up at all.

It's honest. And maybe that's the only real thing we've got right now.

He didn't reply right away. But the typing dots danced in and out, fading and returning. I imagined him on his bed, shirtless, restless, fingers twitching against the screen.

And I smiled.

Because he wasn't pulling away.

He was drifting closer.

Val [11:42 PM]

We should hang out again soon.

Just you and me.

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Author's note:

Part 4 - should be finished soon (it's very long - it might take me a week to finish)

-

She doesn't flirt anymore. She commands.

No more confusion. No more hesitation. Jake knows exactly what she is now and exactly what she wants from him.

Part 4 is where it all starts hitting.

Val and Jake finally fuck, and once it begins, they both break.

It's gonna be long. Like, Parts 1 through 3 combined kind of long.

You've read the slow burn. Time for the fire.

Thank you for reading Part 3 of my series. I really appreciate it.

Keep the feedback coming. I love reading your opinions, and if you have any suggestions for future parts, I'd gladly read them and maybe even include them down the line.

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