Nadia's breath hitched as her trembling hand wrapped around the thick, veiny beast. Slowly, she brought it to her dripping pussy, the bulbous tip brushing her slick folds.

Her legs wobbled like a baby deer, and she felt like she might just melt into a puddle right there.

"Relax… breathe, Nadia."

He cooed, though his cock twitched impatiently, clearly not in the mood for patience.

She tried—fuck, she tried—but how was she supposed to relax with that about to ruin her? Her heart was racing, her body trembling, her—

Click.

The sharp sound of a light switch flipping on snapped them both out of their lust-fueled haze. Light spilled through the thin shoji door from Juliana's room.

"Oh, shit."

Artis muttered, pulling back so fast she almost fell over. They both froze like naughty kids caught stealing cookies.

A shadow appeared on the other side of the paper door.

"It seems we'll have to stop your 'leakage' another time," he whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with amusement. "Go on, Nadia. Let's not give mom a front-row seat to this show."

Her face burned as she scrambled to fix her gown, yanking it down in a panic.

"Y-yeah…"

He leaned back, giving her a devilish grin.

"Good night, Nadia."

"G-good night, Artis."

She squeaked, bolting for her room just a few feet away.

Her heart pounded like a drum, her face a fiery red, and her pussy—fuck, her pussy was still throbbing and dripping like a broken faucet.

She collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow, her entire body still aching for his touch.

At the exact wrong moment, Juliana's shoji door slid open, and out stepped the woman herself, draped in a thin white robe that barely clung to her curves.

"What was that sound—ngh~ A-Artis…"

She stammered, her sleepy eyes locking onto him like a deer caught in headlights.

Juliana had just woken up after her much-needed post-Artis workout nap. It wasn't her fault; the man had drained her dry earlier. She'd practically been put out of commission, her body aching in all the best ways.

But now, here he was, standing at the end of the hall, his shirtless body glistening with sweat like he was auditioning for some kind of erotic warrior calendar.

His muscles flexed and twitched with every move, catching the dim light just right. She swallowed hard as memories of him—and his cock—flooded her mind. Damn it, her thighs clenched reflexively, and she cursed her body for betraying her.

"Wh-what are you doing standing there, Art?"

"Oh, me?" he said, flashing that sly, panty-melting grin as he sauntered toward her. "Just exercising. Wanna join me?"

Her brain short-circuited. Run? Stay? Swoon? All three? Her first instinct was to bolt back to her room, but her legs weren't cooperating.

The way his predatory gaze roamed her, undressing her with each step, made her knees wobbly and her pussy throb like it had a heartbeat of its own.

"A-at this hour? N-no. And I'm way too old for this kind of... exercise."

Juliana stammered, clutching her pounding chest like it might explode.

Artis inched closer, his smirk widening.

"Old? Mommy, babe, you're not old. And besides, the exercise I've got in mind will have you screaming like a wild banshee. You won't regret a single fucking second of it."

"W-wha—"

Before she could finish her protest, Artis grabbed her hand and pulled her into him like she was some helpless maiden in one of those raunchy romance novels.

She stumbled, her face smacking right into his rock-hard chest, which felt less like human skin and more like someone had chiseled it out of pure testosterone.

"A-Artis…"

She gasped, her breath hitching as his heat seeped into her. His arms snaked around her waist like he owned her, and her face ended up buried in the crook of his neck.

"I just want a long hug, Jul. Is that too much to ask?"

He murmured, his voice low and husky enough to make her knees wobble.

"N-no, not at all."

She stuttered, her brain short-circuiting. Obediently, she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his absurdly broad chest. It felt like hugging a furnace—one that smelled unfairly good.

Artis leaned in and inhaled deeply at her nape, making her shiver. "You smell fucking amazing, Jul. Did you take a bath?"

"Y-yes, I… I was too sweaty after... after your earlier... exercise."

She blurted, her cheeks lighting up like a damn bonfire.

"Oh, that was just a warm-up, Mommy. Barely a taste of what's to come."

He said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction as his hand wandered south, like a thief with no intention of stopping at the first treasure chest. His fingers slid between the plush mounds of her ass, rubbing her crack like he was trying to strike gold.

"A-Art..."

She stammered, her voice trembling somewhere between protest and surrender.

"Shh, Mommy."

He whispered, his tone so smooth it could butter toast.

"Thank you for everything. You're an absolute gem. But you know what? I'm really looking forward to our next... exercise session."

Before she could fully process the words, he tilted her chin up with a firm hand and leaned in, pressing his lips against hers.

Her eyes widened in shock, but any protest died in her throat the moment his tongue slid past her lips, invading her mouth like it owned the place.

Her toes curled so hard she thought they might cramp, her brain short-circuiting as his hand kept its steady, sinful massage.

The kiss was deep, consuming, and downright scandalous—less a romantic gesture and more a declaration of, Yeah, I'm in charge here.

By the time he pulled away, leaving her lips swollen and tingling, she was gasping like she'd run a marathon.

"Now..."

He said, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip as if to wipe away any lingering resistance.

"Be a good girl and go back to sleep, alright? You'll need the rest for what's coming next."

And with that, he turned and walked off, leaving her standing there, dazed, flustered, and wetter than a rainstorm in July.