The sky was overcast. The wind moved through the trees in lazy waves. The scent of cedar, sawdust, and slow-burning pine logs drifted from the chimney.
Jack was in the workshop, shirt off, hands dirty, shaping a cedar bench with curved lines and feminine edges. It was a commission from a local artist—someone who said they wanted a “sculpture you could sit on and get lost in.” Jack didn’t ask questions. He just built.
Vivienne stood in the doorway, barefoot in a long cardigan and nothing underneath. Her hair was down, wavy, a little tangled. Her lips curled around the rim of her mug. Black coffee. Strong.
She watched him work for several minutes before speaking.
“She’s coming today, isn’t she?”
Jack didn’t look up. “Yes.”
Vivienne stepped in, her tone casual. “You’ve seen her before?”
“A few times.”
“She still married?”
Jack’s hands slowed. “Not for much longer.”
Vivienne didn’t ask more. She just watched him move—his arms, his shoulders, the way he dominated the wood without forcing it. Commanding without shouting. Powerful without asking.
“I want to stay,” she said quietly.
Now he looked at her. The weight in his eyes made her legs tighten together.
“You sure?”
Vivienne nodded.
“I don’t want to get in the way. I just want to watch. Maybe help.”
Jack’s jaw worked slightly. He wiped his hands on a towel. Walked over.
Took her face in one big hand.
“You know the rules,” he said.
“Yes, Jack.”
“No hesitation. No jealousy. No control. Mine.”
Vivienne’s breath caught. Her thighs clenched tighter.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yours.”
Jack kissed her. Hard. Final.
“Then stay.”
The knock came at 3:15 sharp.
Jack opened the door. Vivienne stood to the side, barely visible in the shadows of the living room.
It was Claire—late thirties, strawberry-blonde, petite, nervous in the way women get when they’ve been aching too long. She wore a long floral dress and too much perfume, her hair pinned back with the kind of effort that screamed “still trying.”
“Hi, Jack,” she said softly.
Jack nodded, stepping aside.
She walked in slow. Then she saw Vivienne.
“Oh—I didn’t realize—”
“She’s here because I want her here,” Jack said flatly. “She doesn’t change what you came for.”
Claire swallowed. Her cheeks flushed. “Okay.”
Vivienne didn’t move. She simply watched—chin lifted slightly, eyes half-lidded, silent like a shadow beside the hearth.
Jack motioned toward the leather chair by the fireplace.
“Sit.”
Claire obeyed.
Jack stood in front of her. Tall. Unshakable.
“You came to be seen. To be touched. To be taken.”
Claire nodded slowly.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
She blinked. Swallowed. Then everything spilled.
“My ex took the kids last week. Said I’m unstable. That I’m cold. I haven’t been touched in three months, Jack. I don’t even know if I remember how to want something.”
Jack knelt before her.
“You came to the right place.”
She whimpered—something between relief and fear.
Vivienne felt her own breath catch. Watching Jack work was like watching a god wake up someone buried alive.
He reached under Claire’s dress. Lifted it up slowly. No shame. No pretense.
She wasn’t wearing panties.
Her thighs trembled.
Vivienne stepped forward, not touching—but closer. She wanted to see.
Jack looked up at Claire. “Open your legs.”
Claire obeyed.
Vivienne could now see everything—her glistening slit, the way her hips twitched under his gaze. The soft moan that escaped when Jack merely exhaled on her.
Then he kissed her inner thigh. Just once. Tender. Measured.
“You don’t need to ask for permission,” Jack said. “You’re here now. And I’m going to show you exactly how you’re meant to feel.”
Vivienne’s breath hitched.
Claire cried out softly as Jack slid two fingers inside her—slow, deep, curling in just the right place. Her head tipped back. Her body arched.
Jack didn’t speak. He commanded with touch.
His fingers moved like he was sculpting her from the inside out. Vivienne watched his muscles work under his skin, the focus in his jaw, the heat radiating from him like a furnace.
Claire came in less than a minute—shuddering, sobbing into her hand.
And Jack didn’t stop.
He bent her forward in the chair, pulled the dress over her head, and pressed her against the leather back.
Vivienne stood behind them now, close enough to feel the heat of Claire’s body.
“Hold her,” Jack said.
Vivienne didn’t hesitate.
She stepped in, wrapped her arms around Claire’s trembling frame, whispered into her ear.
“You’re safe. Let him in.”
Jack unbuckled his jeans. Freed himself.
And then he entered her in one deep, possessive stroke.
Claire gasped—loud and broken.
Vivienne felt her body absorb the fullness of him, her thighs shaking against Vivienne’s arms.
Jack fucked her slow. Deep. Rhythmic.
He pulled her hair gently. Bit her shoulder. Murmured things only she could hear.
Vivienne held her tighter. She was wet now—aching, pulsing—but she didn’t ask for Jack’s attention. This was his moment.
But she could feel his power in every thrust.
Claire came again—louder this time—her moans raw and human. Jack didn’t relent. He pinned her deeper. Slammed into her until her legs buckled, her eyes rolled back, her body became nothing but release and surrender.
And then—
Jack came inside her. Groaning. Dominant. Final.
Claire collapsed onto the chair, dress bunched around her waist, chest rising and falling.
Jack walked away—silent, bare, cock still glistening.
Vivienne sat beside Claire. Brushed the hair from her cheek.
Claire was crying.
“Why does it feel like that?” she whispered.
Vivienne kissed her forehead. “Because you let go.”
Jack returned with a blanket. Covered Claire. Sat beside the fire.
Vivienne looked at him. Her heart thudded in her chest.
She didn’t say a word.
Because she understood now.
Later That Night
Claire was gone. The house was quiet.
Vivienne lay naked in Jack’s bed, legs open, his cum from earlier still warm inside her.
Jack stood at the edge of the bed, watching her.
“Well?” he asked. “Still want to join in?”
Vivienne smiled. Wicked. Grateful. Submissive.
“Yes, Jack.”
He climbed over her, pressing her down, sliding into her heat with a growl.
“Then I’ll make sure you never forget who this belongs to.”
Jack’s Page