​The next day began with a soft, rhythmic knock at the door. I knew that knock. Beside me, Chloe was still deep in sleep, her head a warm weight against my chest. I eased out from under her with practiced care, expecting the usual protest from my spine, but the ache was gone. I felt light, recharged, and bold.

​I didn't bother with a robe. I walked to the door exactly as I was, letting my cock and its obvious morning energy—greet the world.

​I swung the door open. Sasha stood there, looking radiant.

​"Hey," she said, her voice a low purr. Her eyes didn't stay on my face; they took a slow tour down my body and back up again, a smirk playing on her lips.

​"Hey yourself," I replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

​"So," she said, her gaze flickering toward the bed behind me. "How was the main event last night?"

​"Perfect," I said, and I meant it. "Best night of my life."

​Sasha's smile faltered just a fraction, a spark of competitive fire lighting up her eyes. "Careful. I'd hate to think someone is providing better service than I do." She leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl in my bed.

​I stepped slightly to the side, blocking her view with a laugh. "Whoa, hold on. I didn't say she gave me the best sex. I said it was the best night. Don't confuse the two, Sasha."

​"If you say so, Mr. Hart," she teased, though the tension between us was thick enough to touch. I felt a familiar pull toward her; she was the first woman I'd been with in this body, and that kind of chemistry doesn't just evaporate.

​"Aren't you even going to ask where I've been?" she asked, shifting her weight to highlight the curves of her legs.

​"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready to brag," I said, amused.

​She stepped back and did a playful 360-degree turn, showcasing a flawless, deep golden tan that practically glowed against the hallway lights.

​"Wait... Las Vegas?" I guessed.

​"No, you idiot," she giggled, throwing her head back. "The beach." She dragged out the word, doing a spot-on impression of Mr. Bean on holiday.

​"Which one? There are thousands."

​"Miami, duh," she said, rolling her eyes.

​"Must be nice. I didn't realize your schedule allowed for spontaneous Florida getaways."

​"I was with a client," she said, her tone professional yet layered with subtext.

​The implication was clear. Sasha hadn't just been catching rays; she'd been working. High-end escorting in Miami meant serious money, elite circles, and a level of polish that made her look like a different person. Despite text she'd sent last night, her eyes told a different story—she was hungry for the version of me she'd been hearing through the walls.

​"A client, huh?" I leaned against the doorframe, making no effort to cover up. "Business must be booming. You look like you're worth every cent he paid."

​She stepped a fraction closer. The scent of expensive sunblock and sea salt drifted off her skin, warm and intoxicating. "He got his money's worth," she whispered, her voice dropping an octave as she glanced past me at Chloe's silhouette under the sheets. "But he didn't have your... energy. I heard you last night, Druski. You've become quite the animal. That wasn't the 'pathetic' guy I remember."

​I let out a low, dry chuckle. "I'm becoming a sex machine thanks to you. You're the one who woke the beast up."

​"I like this beast," she murmured. She reached out, her fingers grazing the hair on my chest—a touch that was light as a feather but heavy with intent. "He's much more fun to play with. But be careful... your little guest in there might not be the sharing type."

​She pulled her hand back, her eyes flashing with a sharp mix of jealousy and playfulness. "I'm going to jump in the shower. You know where to find me if you need a 'vacation' from your houseguest later."

​She turned, her hips swaying with a practiced, rhythmic grace that screamed Miami. She left her own door slightly ajar—a deliberate invitation—as she walked away.

​"Hey, Sasha," I called after her.

​She paused, looking back over her shoulder with a knowing smirk.

​"We've still got those pending shoots," I reminded her. "You, me, and Jess."

​Her smile widened, turning predatory. "I haven't forgotten."

​"Tell me when you're ready," I said.

​"Druski," she purred, "I'm always ready."

​She disappeared into her room, and I retreated back into mine. The apartment was quiet, save for Chloe's soft, even breathing. I had an hour before Two-bit was scheduled to pick me up—just enough time to wash the scent of Miami and sea salt off my mind. I headed for the shower.

-----------------

The warm spray was just starting to ease the last of the tension from my muscles when the bathroom door creaked open. Through the steam, I saw her.

​Chloe stood in the doorway, completely uninhibited. The morning light caught the soft, honeyed tone of her skin and the breathtaking curve of her hips. She was built for sin—a narrow waist that flared out into a pair of thick, powerful thighs and a backside that was perfectly rounded and firm. Her breasts were full and heavy, tipped with dark, peaked nipples that reacted instantly to the cool air of the bathroom.

​As she stepped closer, the steam clung to the light dusting of hair at the junction of her thighs—a neat, dark triangle that shielded a glimpse of her swollen, pink folds, already glistening with a natural dew.

​"Bathing without me?" she asked, a naughty, dimpled smile playing on her lips.

​"Not anymore," I grinned, my eyes tracking the way her body moved with every step.

​She stepped into the glass enclosure, the water immediately slicking down her hair and tracing the deep valley of her cleavage. She looked incredible, her skin glistening like polished marble.

​"Would you like me to help you wash?" she whispered. Her gaze dropped, locking onto my cock, which had surged back to life the moment she entered the room. It stood rigid, pulsing in the heat, demanding her attention.

​"You don't need to ask," I said, my voice thick.

​She reached for the soap, lathering her hands into a rich, white foam. She didn't start with my back. Instead, she knelt in the small space, the water cascading over her shoulders as she brought her soft, soapy palms toward me.

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