Chapter 5: The Riskiest Night

Morning light sliced through the kitchen windows, sharper than usual. Mom stood at the counter earlier than ever, humming off-key while the coffee dripped, her robe loosely tied and hair still tangled from sleep. She looked oddly bright-eyed, pouring three mugs and declaring how “refreshed” she felt after yesterday’s wine run. “This mountain air is working wonders on my back,” she said, sliding a cup toward me. I forced a smile, but my stomach twisted. Across the table Mark’s eyes met mine—guilty, heavy, still carrying the taste of last night’s mixed release. My thighs clenched under the table at the memory of his cum and my squirt on his tongue. We both knew the flavor lingered on our lips even now.

Mom chattered on about her day, oblivious, then dropped it casually: “My back’s acting up again. I think I’ll join you two in the hot tub tonight for once. Just to soak.” My heart slammed against my ribs. Fear and something darker—excitement—flooded me so fast my coffee sloshed. Mom in the tub with us? Mark’s hand found my thigh under the table, squeezing once, firm and reassuring. He mouthed “be good” when she turned for sugar. I nodded, but inside I spiraled. If she sits between us I might actually die ... but part of me wants his fingers on me anyway, right there, with her inches away. The dread built all day like storm clouds rolling in—every normal conversation laced with the knowledge that tonight the risk would spike higher than ever.

Ten o’clock arrived too fast. The deck lights glowed soft. Mom lowered herself into the hot tub first, modest navy one-piece hugging her frame, already on her third glass of wine spritzer—she’d switched to lighter stuff after polishing off those three bottles the first two nights. She didn’t question why it was already steaming hot at ten o’clock—Mark had set the timer days ago. She sighed dramatically as the jets hit her back. I followed in my bikini, the thin strings digging into my hips, heart pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it. Mark slid in last, positioning himself beside me, close enough that our knees brushed underwater. Mom launched into work gossip, voice slurry and loud, laughing at her own stories. Three feet away. Close enough that her wine breath carried on the steam.