I crouched next to Kim first, her head lolled to one side, lips parted, one arm slung across Jasmine's waist. She looked peaceful, but that tank top was riding up, and I remembered her griping once over drinks—how she hated sleeping in her bra, said it dug into her ribs and made her tits ache by morning.

I slid my arms under her—one behind her shoulders, the other under her knees—and lifted her easy, her weight soft and warm against my chest. She mumbled something incoherent, breath hot with wine, but didn't stir.

"Wonder which room is yours…"

The stairs groaned under my boots as I carried her up, the wood worn smooth from years of use. At the top, I nudged open the first door I saw with my elbow. The room was small, bare-bones: a double bed with a lumpy mattress, faded blue quilt tossed messy over it, a single lamp on a rickety nightstand casting a dull yellow glow. One window, blinds half-drawn, showed nothing but black outside. Smelled like dust and old wood, but it'd do.

"This'll do."

I laid Kim gentle on the bed, her head sinking into the pillow. Her tank top shifted, straps slipping, and I hesitated for half a second before reaching under, fingers careful as I unhooked her bra through the fabric. Kept it quick, clinical, sliding it off without pulling her shirt too far—last thing I needed was her waking up thinking I was perving. The bra hit the floor, and she sighed soft, like the relief was instant, her chest rising easier under the loose cotton. I pulled the quilt over her, tucking it around her shoulders, and stepped back.

Back downstairs, Tessa was still slumped on the couch, one leg dangling off, her skirt rucked up to her thigh. I shook my head, grinning despite myself—she'd probably roast me for passing out mid-party if she remembered. I scooped her up same as Kim, her head lolling against my shoulder, wine-sweet breath fanning my neck. She was lighter than I expected, all long limbs and soft curves. The stairs creaked again as I carried her up, trying the next door down the hall.

I cracked it open, and, shit, there was Tom, sprawled face-down on a bed, snoring loud enough to wake the birds outside. His glass sat empty on the nightstand, phone glowing faint beside it. No way I was dumping Tessa in there. I eased the door shut, quiet as I could, and tried the next one.

"Jesus. How many more rooms does this giant ass house have?"

Another room, near-identical to Kim's: one bed with a sagging mattress, a gray comforter bunched at the foot, a single bulb overhead throwing stark shadows. No frills, just a scratched-up dresser and a window with a crack in the pane. Good enough.

I set Tessa down carefully, her hair fanning dark across the pillow. She muttered something—sounded like "fuckin'... baghh," and rolled onto her side, already gone again.

Back downstairs, Jasmine was still on the floor, curled small under the blanket, one foot sticking out like a kid who'd kicked off the covers. I crouched, slid my arms under her, and hoisted her up. She was warm, heavier than Tessa but still easy to carry, her head tucking into the crook of my neck like she belonged there. Her breath hitched, a soft snore buzzing against my collarbone as I hauled her up the stairs, pushing open the last door.

This room was a twin of the others: one bed, thin mattress, a quilt that looked like it'd seen better days, a nightstand with a wobbly leg. Moonlight leaked through a gap in the curtains, painting the floorboards silver. I laid Jasmine down gentle, her hair spilling wild across the pillow, lips parted as she sighed in her sleep. I started to pull away, ready to head back down, when her hand shot out, fingers wrapping loose around my wrist.

"Evan, you..." she slurred, words thick and sloppy, eyes barely cracking open. "Are a good persssson."

I chuckled low, warmth spreading in my chest despite the drunken ramble. "Yeah, sure, Jas." I eased her hand off, giving it a soft pat, then leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead—nothing heavy, just a goodnight. "Sleep tight."

"Night," she mumbled, already sinking deeper, her hand flopping to the mattress.

I stepped back, closing the door soft behind me. Downstairs, the living room was a ghost town—empty glasses, a spilled chip bowl, the faint stink of wine hanging in the air. Each girl was safe, tucked away, out like lights. Guess it was my turn to crash, but every room was taken. Couch it was, then. The lumpy one by the window looked like my best bet.

I grabbed a spare blanket from the armchair, kicked off my boots, and stretched out, the springs creaking under me. My head was still spinning—not from the beer, but from the night. Jasmine's feet, Tessa's tongue, Kim's dirty talk, that quest taunting me with 120 EXP I didn't earn.

Tomorrow was a new day. Maybe I'd get another shot at that quest—sober, clear-headed, no lines crossed. For now, I closed my eyes, letting the weight of the night pull me under.

—

Thunder cracked loud outside, jolting me awake like a slap. My eyes snapped open, the couch springs digging into my back, a stiff neck screaming from the awkward angle. Rain hammered the roof, wind howling through the cracks in the cabin walls. I groaned, rubbing my face, the blanket tangled around my legs. Morning? Felt like the storm had rolled in overnight, turning the world outside into a gray mess.

I swung my legs off the couch and shuffled to the kitchen window. Sheets of rain slashing sideways, trees bending like they might snap, leaves whipping through the air like confetti in a hurricane. Visibility was shit, the lake out back churning whitecaps under the downpour. No way anyone was going out in that crap today.

The fireplace had died sometime in the night, embers cold and gray in the grate, the room chill as hell. Or… not hell… Whatever.

I headed over, crouching low. Grabbed a couple logs from the stack by the hearth—dry oak, split rough—and stacked 'em crisscross in the firebox, kindling underneath from the basket of twigs and newspaper wads. Struck a match, held it to the paper till flames licked up, then blew gentle to feed the kindling. Watched the fire catch, flames dancing hungry over the wood, crackling as it built heat. Good enough to chase the damp away.

Pulled out my phone: 10 AM. Bright as day on the screen, but everyone else was probably still sawing logs, nursing hangovers.

"Man... what a night it was," I muttered, exhaling slow. "I hope the girls don't remember what they talked about."

Then, laughter floated down from upstairs—bright, muffled, like a secret spilling over.

"Jasmine?" I called out, craning my neck. "You guys up?"

No answer, just more giggles, quick and hushed.

I headed up the stairs, wood creaking under my weight, the storm's rumble shaking the whole place. The laughter was coming from the room I'd put Jasmine in last night—sharp bursts, like they were holding back.

Stopped in front of the door, knocked light. "You good in there?"

"Oh, Evan? Uh, yeah yeah," Jasmine's voice came through, laced with a grin I could hear. "Didn't think you'd wake up this early."

"I... did. Why?"

"You weren't supposed to be awake." She said it like a tease, holding back another laugh.

"Oh... again, why?"

"Just... give me a minute." A pause, rustling sounds, then: "For yesterday, we decided you earned a gift."

"What did I do yesterday?"

"You didn't... take us up on that deal and have... you know, sex with us." She replied. "And you actually carried our asses upstairs."

"That's called being a dude with common sense." I shrugged, even though she couldn't see it. "Anyway, I'm about to make some scrambled eggs. You want some with—"

"Alright," Jasmine said, exhaling like she'd made up her mind. "Come in. Your gifts are ready."

I arched one eyebrow, hand on the knob. "My gifts?"

I pushed the door open, and holy shit. Gift? That was the understatement of the century.

Kim, Jasmine, and Tessa stood there, lined up like a fantasy I didn't dare dream up. Each one was wrapped in red gift wrap—shiny, crinkly strips of it, tied around them like the world's sexiest prank. The wraps hugged their curves just enough to cover the essentials: thin bands crisscrossing their tits, barely hiding stiff nipples poking through, and slender strips diving between their thighs, clinging tight to their pussies, leaving nothing but smooth skin and heat on either side.

Kim's wrap was knotted loose at her hips, a bow dangling low like it was begging to be pulled. Jasmine's was tighter, cinched around her chest so her breasts spilled out the sides, the red contrasting her pale skin like fire on snow. Tessa's had a big, sloppy bow right over her crotch, the ends trailing down her thighs, teasing every step she took.

Their bodies gleamed under the dim bedroom light—sweat or lotion or just pure lust making them glow. Hair loose, eyes glinting, lips wet and parted. They were a fucking vision, and my cock was rock-hard in my jeans before I could blink.

"Are you gonna just stand there?" Jasmine purred, her voice all honey and smoke, one hip cocked to make the wrap shift, flashing a sliver of skin near her pussy. "Come on, Evan. Open your gifts."

"H-holy shit," I stammered, throat dry, pulse hammering like the thunder outside. My dick strained so hard it hurt, tenting my pants obvious as hell.

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