Chapter 1

The rain hammered against the villa’s tall windows, a relentless silver curtain in the thick summer night. Inside, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of oil, sweat, and slow, simmering lust.

Jon lay back on the custom massage table, skin gleaming, muscles loose and powerful from the deep massage Fab had just finished.

At forty-nine, he looked obscene in his easy beauty — broad chest rising and falling with slow breaths, thick cock flushed and throbbing against his belly, leaking precum in lazy drips. Silver streaked the dirty blonde hair at his temples. His rugged face was shadowed by a dusting of stubble, his eyes half-lidded but sharp, missing nothing.

Fab stood beside him, wiping his hands on a white towel slung low around his narrow hips. Barely twenty-three, he was a vision of strength and seduction — golden brown skin stretched tight over rippling muscles, black tattoos curling over his arms, his chest, dipping down his ribs. His white shorts did nothing to hide the heavy, swinging bulge between his legs.

He smiled down at Jon — a flash of kindness, mischief, pure filthy beauty.

“Do you want me to give you a happy ending, Jon? Blow job? Hand job? You can fuck my ass if you want.”

The tempting offer hit the air like a whipcrack.

Linda, lounging in an armchair nearby, sucked in a tiny breath. Same age as her husband, she wore forty-nine like a crown — nude, one leg draped over the chair’s arm, her silver-toned hair twisted up in a messy knot. She looked like a goddess — all golden skin, long legs, and subtle white gold jewelry glinting at her wrist, ankle, belly. Her fingertips brushed idly over her clit, slow and lazy — but at Fab’s words, a soft tremor ran visibly through her.

Jon chuckled, rough and low, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. He shifted slightly, the wide, reinforced massage table creaking under his weight — built for bodies slamming together, not for delicate treatment.

His hand drifted across his chest, idly tracing the path Fab’s oiled hands had taken minutes earlier.

He didn’t hide his arousal — didn’t even try.

The heavy, wet head of his cock twitched against his belly, angry and proud.

“Tempting,” Jon said, voice like velvet dragged over stone. “But I want to wait. I want to watch Linda get the full experience first.”

Fab’s grin widened — not disappointed, just glowing with shared anticipation. He reached for a fresh bottle of oil, warming it between his large, capable hands.

Linda rose in a slow stretch, her body catching every warm gleam of light. Her full, teardrop-shaped breasts shifted with the movement, the stiff peaks of her nipples brushing lightly against the air. She didn’t rush.

She drank in the way Fab’s dark eyes followed her — the way Jon’s breathing deepened.

She moved toward the table, lazy and regal, her bare feet silent against the polished wood floor.