Peter took a deep breath, watching Linda organize groceries like it was a competitive sport. All efficiency and humming some 90s song that probably meant something to her generation. Normal. Domestic. Completely fucking oblivious to the fact that her son was standing ten feet away, still hard as diamond from touching her best friend's.

Ms. Chen.

Just thinking the name made his cock twitch like a traitor with no sense of timing.

Part of him—the impatient, horny, thoroughly frustrated part that currently controlled about 80% of his decision-making capacity—wished he'd said fuck it and taken that final step. Closed the distance when she'd been touching his face like she wanted to map every angle. Kissed her when her thumb had brushed his lip.

Backed her against that counter and shown her exactly what happened when you stopped lying to yourself about wanting your son's best friend.

But no.

Liberation couldn't be rushed. That was the whole fucking point. That's what separated him from every other dickhead who'd wanted her and settled for jerking off to the fantasy because they were too scared of consequences or too selfish to care about anything beyond getting their rocks off.

She had a thing for him. Obviously. The Taboo abilities didn't create attraction out of nothing—it just amplified what was already there, buried under two decades of playing the good woman who sacrificed everything and asked for nothing back.

She'd probably feel for him that day when he came home from visiting the Rivera manor and found her as his house with Tommy and everyone.

He could push it. Could force early harvest. The abilities were doing their job. The attraction was mutual. She was already halfway to saying yes.

But why the fuck rush?

She needed to know what she was signing up for.

And that meant more than just yeah, I want to fuck my son's hot best friend. It meant understanding that choosing him came with twenty-plus other women.

Came with a lifestyle that would destroy every neat little box she'd built her identity around.

Came with becoming part of something that didn't give a shit about society's rules or what people would think.

She'd seen his women. All of them. Those photos at the estate weren't subtle—professional nude photography documenting every single woman in his constellation and the pleasure he gave them, displayed like a fucking art gallery designed to make visitors understand exactly what kind of operation Peter Carter was running in his estate.

So yeah, it wasn't just about her feelings. It was about whether she could handle sharing. Whether she could look Madison, Sofia and eventually his mother and sisters; in the eye knowing they all shared his cock.

Whether she could sit at family dinner with Linda and Jasmine while remembering what his cum tasted like.

Though that was getting way ahead of things.

There were more immediate clusterfucks to navigate first.

Like the fact that he was Tommy's best friend. His brother in everything but blood. The guy who'd shared dreams when they had nothing and was still sharing them now that they had everything.

Tommy's reaction to finding out Peter was fucking his mom would be… yeah. Complicated didn't begin to cover it. The kind of complicated that could shatter a friendship that had survived poverty, bullying, and becoming millionaires before they could legally drink.

Or the fact that he was Linda's son. Her adopted kid. The one she'd chosen when nobody else wanted him, who she'd sacrificed millions for, who she'd worked herself into exhaustion to raise right.

What would Linda think when she found out her best friend—the woman she'd known for years, the woman she trusted implicitly—was fucking her seventeen-year-old?

What would Tommy think of his mother?

The moral shackles holding Ms. Chen in place weren't just about societal bullshit. They were personal. Built from actual relationships with actual people who'd actually be hurt if she chose wrong.

Tomorrow he'd get his answer.

She'd either show up ready to be honest about what she wanted, or she'd retreat back into denial and spend the next decade wondering what if.

Either way, he'd know.

Though his dick really couldn't wait that long.

Insatiable Lust!

Peter shifted, adjusting himself in his jeans while Linda's back was turned. The kitchen felt too warm, too small, too full of a woman he desperately wanted but couldn't have. Not right now. Not with Jasmine twenty feet away in the living room watching some reality TV bullshit about rich people's fake problems.

Though sneaking some sex would feel so fucking good right now—raw, filthy, unstoppable, the kind that would leave them both shaking and ruined.

The thought bloomed before he could stop it—vivid, obscene, crystal-clear: Linda bent over the kitchen counter, her thin cotton shorts yanked down just enough to bare her ass, hand clamped tight over her mouth to muffle the desperate, broken screams as he fucked her from behind—deep, punishing strokes, his hips slamming into the soft, yielding flesh, her pussy clenching hot and wet around his cock with every thrust.

Jasmine completely oblivious in the next room, humming along to whatever play she had on TV, while Linda tried so fucking hard to stay quiet—eyes wide with shock and guilt, tears of overwhelmed pleasure streaking her cheeks as she bit down on her own fingers to keep from crying out his name.

The disbelief in her eyes would be the hottest part: the raw, panicked realization that they were actually doing this—her own son pounding her dripping cunt in the family kitchen, the same counter where she'd made him breakfast a thousand times now slick with her arousal—that she couldn't stop even though discovery would mean absolute disaster, that she was spreading her legs wider, pushing back harder, silently begging her son to fuck her deeper even if Jasmine walked in and caught them be damned.

He'd love the pleasure-torture of it: the way her body would betray her completely, pussy gushing around him, walls spasming as she came hard and silent, hating herself for how much she needed it—hating that she was soaking his cock with her forbidden release, hating that she wanted him to fill her up, to breed her right there with his mother in the next room.

And that self-loathing would only make her want it more—make her thrust with him in rhythm back harder, make her clench tighter, make her come again just from the sheer wrongness of letting her son use her like his personal fucktoy while the rest of the world stayed perfectly normal ten feet away.

Peter chuckled quietly—low, dark, the sound barely audible over the rush of blood in his ears.

Taking both sisters. Together. Linda and Jasmine wrapped around him in whatever configuration felt best. Two mouths on his cock, taking turns, competing to make him cum first. Fucking one while the other watched.

Making them touch each other while he decided which one deserved his attention more.

One day.

One fucking day he'd have them both. Linda would already be his by then, already addicted to his cock, already past the point of saying no to anything. And Jasmine would finally stop pretending tomorrow wasn't going to become today.

And he'd have them both in the same bed, same room, same night, all desperate and willing and his.

"Speaking of sisters," ARIA's voice cut through his fantasy like a bucket of ice water. "There's one you promised to meet at Celestial Grand Hotel. Did you forget?"

Peter froze.

Fuck.

Peter blinked. Refocused on reality instead of the extremely pleasant fiction happening in his head. "Right. Fuck. Helena."

He glanced at Linda—still humming, still stacking canned goods like a Tetris champion. Completely unaware that her son was about to sneak out to fuck her best friend's sister in a five-star hotel while she made dinner.

Helena Voss. Ava's sister. The Ice Queen.

The woman who'd orchestrated kidnappings and torture and corporate warfare. Who'd been hired by men who'd tried to destroy Charlotte and lost everything when Peter systematically dismantled their empire and put an end the men she'd been working with.

He'd told her something was waiting at Celestial Grand. A meeting. An opportunity. Vague enough to get her there without revealing he was basically setting a trap.

Then he'd killed Dmitri and his entire private army and completely forgotten about Helena sitting in a hotel room waiting like a chump.

"She actually checked in?" Peter asked.

"Two days ago. Presidential suite. She's getting impatient—she's called the front desk four times asking if anyone's left messages." ARIA sounded amused. "She thinks she's walking into a business negotiation. It's adorable."

"My women still at school?"

"Affirmative. Most are using the Eyelens for intensive study sessions while Madison, Sofia, and the twins are suffering through Advanced Calculus lesson with things they already know. Isabella's reviewing her class tests. Lea and Kayla are in the library pretending to study while actually gossiping. Your other women are on their jobs or learning with Eyelens. Only Ava's free—she's at the estate training with Soo-Jin."

So, he had a few hours. Time to handle Helena before his constellation needed him for anything.

"Ashley plan status?" Peter asked, already moving.

"Everything's in position exactly as you designed." ARIA's voice took on that satisfied edge she got when discussing operations she found particularly clever. Timeline's flexible pending your go-ahead."

Peter nodded.

Ashley.

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