Rich man’s paradise

Greenhaven is a privately owned and independent island for the ultra wealthy

Gregory Haynes stretched his lean, tanned body across the chaise lounge, the midday sun pressing hot against his bare chest. His fingertips trailed absently over the condensation-slick surface of his untouched mojito, while his other hand rested lazily over the growing bulge in his swim trunks. Last night played on repeat behind his half-lidded eyes—the way Dawn’s back had arched against the satin sheets, the way she’d bitten her lip to keep from crying out too loud. His stepmother. His father’s fifth wife. And, as of midnight, his.

A warm breeze carried the scent of chlorine and coconut oil across the infinity pool’s deck. The estate sprawled around him—pristine white villas, manicured palms, the distant hum of a golf cart ferrying staff between properties. Somewhere beyond the high stone walls, the township of Greenhaven carried on with its mundane existence. But here on The Hill? Rules bent like the stems of overripe fruit, heavy and ready to burst.

The sudden heat of a mouth closing around him snapped Greg’s eyes open. Amy Redman, his neighbor’s newest acquisition—twenty-three, blonde, and already bored—licked a slow stripe up his hardening cock through the fabric of his trunks. She smirked up at him, her coral-painted lips glistening. “Someone’s eager,” she purred, fingers hooking into the waistband of his shorts.

Across the pool, Dawn watched from her own lounge chair, legs parted just enough to let the sunlight catch the wet sheen between her thighs. Her string bikini did little to contain her curves, the dark fabric clinging to her nipples as she dragged two fingers lazily over her clit. She didn’t rush. Didn’t hide. Just let Greg see the way her breath hitched when Amy finally freed his cock, her tongue swirling around the head.

Greg's breath caught as Amy's tongue flicked against the sensitive ridge beneath his cockhead, her lips forming a tight seal around him. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking with practiced precision while her fingers traced teasing circles along his inner thighs. Across the shimmering water, Dawn let out a soft, breathy moan, her fingers working faster now—Greg could see the slick shine of her arousal coating her fingertips. "Fuck," he muttered, his hips lifting off the chaise as Amy swallowed him deeper, her throat fluttering around his length.

The sliding glass doors behind them hissed open, and Greg barely registered the sound of heels clicking against marble before a familiar voice cut through the humid air. "Well, isn't this a tableau." Lila, the head housemaid, stood with a silver tray balanced on one hip, her starched uniform doing nothing to hide the sway of her hips as she approached. At thirty-five, she was older than the usual staff—Neville kept her on for her discretion and the way she never flinched when he demanded his "special services." Her dark eyes flicked between Amy's bobbing head and Dawn's splayed thighs, her lips curving into a smirk. "Should I come back later, Master Haynes?"

Dawn answered for him, her voice throaty with need. "Join us, Lila." She hooked a finger into the maid's crisp apron, tugging her closer until Lila's knees brushed the edge of the lounge. Greg watched, transfixed, as Dawn's free hand unbuttoned Lila's blouse with quick, impatient tugs. The fabric fell open to reveal full, heavy breasts, their dark nipples already peaked. Dawn leaned forward, capturing one between her teeth while her fingers slid under Lila's skirt, hiking it up to expose the bare, glistening heat beneath.

Amy pulled off Greg's cock with a wet pop, her lips swollen and glossy. "Greedy," she murmured, crawling up his body to claim his mouth, her tongue still tasting of him. Her hand replaced her mouth, stroking him in slow, tight twists while Dawn and Lila tangled together beside them. Greg groaned into Amy's kiss, his fingers knotting in her hair as Lila's moans grew louder—Dawn had her pinned now, her tongue working between the maid's thighs with relentless focus.

Greg’s fingers tightened in Amy’s hair as he watched Dawn’s head dip between Lila’s thighs, the maid’s back arching off the chaise lounge with a sharp cry. The sound sent a fresh pulse of heat straight to his cock, already throbbing in Amy’s grip. She stroked him faster, her thumb smearing pre-cum over the swollen head before leaning down to lick it away with a hum of appreciation. “You like watching, don’t you?” she whispered, her breath hot against his wet skin. Greg didn’t answer—couldn’t, not when Dawn’s fingers were suddenly hooking into Lila’s waistband, yanking her skirt down her hips in one rough tug.

Lila’s legs fell open wider, her heels digging into the cushions as Dawn’s tongue lapped at her in slow, deliberate strokes. The maid’s hands fisted in Dawn’s hair, her hips bucking erratically. “Fuck—*fuck*—” she gasped, her voice cracking. Greg could see the exact moment Dawn’s tongue found her clit—Lila’s entire body jerked, a high, keening noise tearing from her throat as her thighs clamped around Dawn’s head. Amy chuckled against Greg’s collarbone, her fingers still working him lazily. “Looks like someone’s close,” she murmured, her teeth grazing his pulse point.

Dawn pulled back just enough to smirk up at Lila, her lips glistening. “Come for me,” she ordered, her voice low and rough. Two fingers plunged into the maid’s dripping cunt, curling sharply, and Lila shattered with a scream, her body bowing off the lounge as her orgasm ripped through her. Greg groaned, his hips jerking into Amy’s hand—watching Dawn wreck someone never failed to make him achingly hard. Dawn didn’t let up, fucking Lila through the aftershocks until the maid was sobbing, her legs trembling.

Amy’s grip on Greg’s cock tightened, her nails scraping lightly along his shaft. “You’re dripping,” she breathed, her tongue darting out to catch a bead of pre-cum. Greg barely registered the words—his attention snagged on Dawn rising from between Lila’s thighs, her mouth wet and wicked. She sauntered toward him, her hips swaying with every step, and Greg’s breath hitched when she sank to her knees beside Amy. Dawn didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, licking a slow stripe up the underside of his cock before swallowing him whole.

Greg’s head fell back against the chaise as Dawn’s throat tightened around him, her lips pressed flush to the base of his cock. She held him there for a breathless moment—long enough for his vision to whiten at the edges—before pulling off with a filthy, wet sound. Amy’s laughter was a distant buzz in his ears as Dawn licked her lips, her dark eyes locking onto his. “Tastes better than my mojito,” she murmured, her fingers trailing up his inner thigh. Behind her, Lila was still sprawled boneless across the lounge, her skirt rucked up around her hips, chest heaving.

Amy’s mouth found Greg’s ear, her teeth nipping at the lobe. “Think you can handle both of us?” she whispered, her hand slipping between Dawn’s thighs to rub slow circles over her clit. Dawn’s breath hitched, her hips rocking into the touch, but she didn’t look away from Greg—just held his gaze as Amy’s fingers slid inside her with a slick sound. Greg’s cock twitched at the sight, his own fingers digging into Dawn’s hips as she leaned forward to take him back into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head.

Lila stirred behind them, pushing up on shaky elbows to watch. Her uniform was in disarray, her blouse hanging open, but her eyes were sharp with hunger as she crawled across the cushions. Greg barely had time to register her movement before her hands were on Dawn’s ass, spreading her wider as she pressed her mouth to Dawn’s cunt from behind. Dawn moaned around Greg’s cock, the vibration shooting straight to his balls, and he cursed, his hips bucking involuntarily. Amy’s laughter was breathless against his shoulder as she guided his hand to Dawn’s breast, his thumb brushing over her stiff nipple.

The pool deck had become a tangle of limbs and heated skin—Lila’s tongue working in tandem with Amy’s fingers, Dawn’s mouth never leaving Greg’s cock, her throat fluttering around him every time Lila sucked particularly hard on her clit. Greg could feel the coil of pleasure tightening low in his gut, but he gritted his teeth, determined to draw it out. Dawn seemed to sense it—she pulled off with a gasp, her lips swollen and glossy. “Not yet,” she panted, her fingers wrapping around the base of his cock to squeeze.

Dawn's grip tightened around Greg's shaft, her thumb pressing into the sensitive vein beneath as she held him at bay. "You don't get to come until I say," she murmured, her voice thick with arousal. Behind her, Lila's tongue worked in slow, deliberate circles around Dawn's clit, drawing out a shuddering gasp that made Greg's cock twitch in Dawn's hand. Amy, still draped over Greg's shoulder, traced lazy patterns across his chest with her nails before sliding down his body to replace Dawn's mouth with her own. Her lips closed around him in a wet, hot seal, her tongue flicking against the underside of his cockhead in a way that made his toes curl.

Greg's breath came in ragged bursts as Amy took him deeper, her throat relaxing around him with practiced ease. The sight of her blonde hair swaying with each bob of her head, combined with the slick sounds of Lila devouring Dawn from behind, sent another pulse of heat through him. Dawn's fingers tangled in Amy's hair, guiding her rhythm, her own hips rocking back against Lila's mouth. "Faster," Dawn hissed, and Amy obeyed, her pace quickening until Greg could feel the tension coiling tighter in his gut.

Just as he was about to tip over the edge, Dawn yanked Amy away by the hair, leaving Greg throbbing and empty. Amy whined in protest, but Dawn silenced her with a rough kiss, her tongue plunging into Amy's mouth as she palmed Greg's aching cock. "Patience," Dawn breathed against Amy's lips before turning back to Greg. Her dark eyes gleamed with mischief as she straddled his hips, her soaked bikini bottoms grinding against his length. "You're going to fuck me first," she declared, her fingers hooking into the flimsy fabric to peel it aside.

Greg didn't hesitate. He gripped Dawn's waist and lifted her effortlessly, guiding her onto his cock with a groan as she sank down onto him in one smooth motion. Her cunt clenched around him, hot and tight, and for a moment, neither of them moved—just breathed, foreheads pressed together. Then Dawn rolled her hips, and the world narrowed to the slick, desperate friction between them. Amy, forgotten for a moment, crawled forward to latch onto Dawn's nipple, her teeth scraping the hardened peak as her fingers found Dawn's clit.

Greg’s hands slid up Dawn’s sweat-slicked thighs, gripping the swell of her hips as she ground down on him with deliberate, rolling motions. The string bikini top still clung to her chest, but it was pushed aside now, one strap dangling uselessly over her shoulder as Amy’s mouth worked her exposed nipple. Dawn’s breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers twisting in Amy’s hair as she fucked herself on Greg’s cock, her thighs trembling with the effort. “Look at you,” Greg growled, his voice rough with need. “Taking it like you were made for me.”

Dawn’s answering moan was half-laugh, half-scream as Amy’s fingers found her clit again, circling in tight, relentless strokes. “Fuck—Greg—” she choked out, her body tightening around him like a vice. Greg could feel the telltale flutter of her orgasm building, the way her cunt clenched rhythmically around his cock, but she wasn’t the only one close. The sight of her coming apart—head thrown back, lips parted in a silent cry—sent a bolt of white-hot pleasure straight to his groin.

Lila, recovered from her own climax, crawled forward on the chaise, her fingers tracing the curve of Dawn’s spine before dipping lower. Greg watched, transfixed, as she pressed two fingers into Dawn’s ass without warning, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. Dawn’s hips jerked, her body tightening impossibly further around Greg’s cock, and he cursed, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Jesus Christ,” he gritted out, his vision swimming at the edges.

Amy pulled back from Dawn’s breast with a wet pop, her lips swollen and glossy. “Think he can take it?” she murmured, her fingers still working Dawn’s clit in quick, punishing circles. Lila’s answer was to curl her fingers deeper, her thumb brushing against the base of Greg’s cock where it disappeared into Dawn’s cunt. The dual stimulation—Dawn’s tight heat around him, Lila’s fingers pressing insistently against his shaft—was too much. Greg’s hips bucked upward, driving himself deeper into Dawn as his orgasm ripped through him with a force that left him gasping.

Greg's vision blurred at the edges as he came, his hips jerking uncontrollably into Dawn's tight heat. She milked him through it, her cunt clenching rhythmically around his cock while Lila's fingers kept up their relentless pressure against his shaft. Dawn's own climax hit a second later—her body convulsed, her nails digging into Greg's chest as she threw her head back with a guttural moan. Amy didn't let up, her fingers circling Dawn's clit until Dawn sobbed, oversensitive and shaking.

The sound of slow clapping broke through the haze of aftershocks. Greg blinked sweat from his eyes to see Marcus Delacroix leaning against the poolside cabana, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in one hand. At sixty-two, he was one of the younger board members, though the liver spots on his hands betrayed his age. His gaze lingered on Dawn's glistening thighs, still spread wide over Greg's lap. "Quite the performance," Marcus drawled, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Your father would be so proud."

Dawn stiffened, her fingers tightening on Greg's shoulders, but she didn't scramble off him—just lifted her chin, her dark eyes defiant. "Neville's in Kinshasa," she said, her voice steadier than Greg expected. "And you're interrupting."

Marcus chuckled, stepping closer. The scent of expensive cologne and cigar smoke clung to him. "I brought reinforcements." He gestured behind him, where two of the household maids stood waiting—twin sisters from Thailand, their crisp uniforms starched to perfection. "Thought you boys might need refills." His gaze slid pointedly to Greg's softening cock, still buried inside Dawn. "Among other things."

Greg exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers flexing against Dawn's hips as Marcus's smirk widened. The old bastard knew exactly what he was doing—interrupting at the peak of their afterglow, dangling fresh meat like a goddamn tease. Dawn shifted slightly, her inner muscles fluttering around Greg's half-hard cock in a way that made his breath hitch.

Amy was the first to move, stretching like a cat before slinking toward the twins. She traced a finger down one maid's starched collar, popping a button loose. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Pim," the girl murmured, her dark eyes flicking to Marcus for permission. When he nodded, her hands went to the remaining buttons, shedding the uniform with practiced ease. Her sister—Lin—followed suit, their identical bodies bared to the humid air.

Lila, still sprawled across the chaise with her skirt hiked up, let out a low whistle. "Double the fun," she purred, reaching out to drag a thumb over Pim's nipple. The girl shivered but held still, her training evident in the way she kept her hands clasped behind her back until Marcus snapped his fingers.

Marcus’s smirk deepened as Pim and Lin knelt in unison, their hands finally moving—not to cover themselves, but to reach for Greg’s cock, still slick with Dawn’s arousal. Their fingers traced him in tandem, one set stroking his shaft while the other cupped his balls with featherlight pressure. Greg hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking as Dawn finally lifted off him with a wet sound, her thighs glistening. “Greedy little things,” she murmured, swatting Pim’s ass playfully before collapsing onto the chaise beside Lila, her chest still heaving.

Amy wasted no time. She hooked a finger into Lin’s collar—what was left of it—and dragged her forward until the maid’s breath hitched. “Ever had a woman’s mouth on you?” Amy purred, her free hand sliding between Lin’s thighs. The maid’s lips parted in a silent gasp as Amy’s fingers found her clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. Lin’s hips jerked, her training momentarily forgotten as she ground against Amy’s hand. “Answer her,” Marcus commanded, his voice sharp. “Y-yes, ma’am,” Lin stammered, her cheeks flushing darker. Amy’s grin turned predatory. “Good. Then you know how to return the favor.”

Greg barely had time to process the sight of Amy yanking Lin’s head between her thighs before Pim’s mouth closed around his cock, her tongue swirling in a way that made his vision blur. Her sister’s muffled moans echoed as Amy fucked Lin’s face with slow, rolling thrusts, her fingers tangled in the maid’s hair. Marcus watched like a conductor surveying his orchestra, his tumbler forgotten on the cabana table. “The twins were a gift from the Thai delegation,” he mused, stepping closer to trail a finger down Dawn’s spine. “Thoroughly trained.”

Dawn arched into his touch, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “You’re *spoiling* us, Marcus,” she breathed, her fingers finding Lila’s wrist and guiding it back between her thighs. The maid obeyed without hesitation, her fingers slipping inside Dawn with a slick sound as Marcus’s hand cupped Dawn’s breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple. Greg groaned, his hips bucking into Pim’s mouth—the sight of his stepmother coming undone under Marcus’s touch while Amy rode Lin’s tongue sent a fresh wave of heat through him.

Greg's fingers tangled in Pim's hair as she swallowed him deeper, her throat fluttering around his cock while Lin's muffled moans vibrated against Amy's cunt. The afternoon air thickened with the scent of sex and saltwater, the sun baking their tangled bodies as Marcus circled them like a shark. His polished loafers clicked against the marble deck when he paused behind Dawn, his liver-spotted hands sliding down her sweat-slicked back to grip her hips. "Always knew Neville's favorite whore had stamina," he murmured, yanking her up onto her knees. Dawn gasped as Marcus's fingers dug into her flesh, but she didn't resist when he pushed her forward, her cheek pressing against Greg's thigh.

Amy lifted her head from between Lin's thighs, her lips glistening. "Someone's jealous," she purred, swiping her tongue over Lin's clit one last time before crawling toward Marcus. The old man's breath hitched when Amy's fingers popped the button of his linen trousers, her nails scraping the soft skin beneath. Marcus's cock—thin and veined—twitched in the humid air as Amy stroked him with deliberate slowness. "Poor thing," she cooed, her thumb brushing the leaking head. "All this excitement, and you're just *watching*?"

Greg's hips jerked as Pim hollowed her cheeks around him, her sister's tongue now tracing his balls with torturous precision. Dawn's breath warmed his inner thigh, her lips brushing his skin between ragged gasps as Lila's fingers worked her clit. The chaise lounge creaked under their combined weight, the cushions slick with sweat and spilled arousal. Marcus's groan cut through the haze—Amy had taken him into her mouth now, her lips stretched tight as she bobbed with mocking slowness.

Dawn's fingers suddenly clamped around Greg's wrist, dragging his hand to her mouth. Her tongue swirled around his fingers, sucking them clean of Pim's slickness before guiding them between her thighs. "Fuck me again," she demanded, her voice raw. Greg didn't hesitate. He hauled her up, flipping her onto her back with her legs hooked over his shoulders. Pim's lips barely left his cock as he thrust into Dawn's dripping cunt, the maid's tongue flicking against his shaft with every plunge.

Greg’s thrusts came sharp and deep, Dawn’s body arching off the chaise with each snap of his hips. Pim’s lips never left him, her tongue tracing the base of his cock where it disappeared into Dawn’s slick heat, her moans vibrating against his skin. Marcus’s breath grew ragged beside them, his fingers tightening in Amy’s hair as she swallowed him to the root, her nails digging into his thighs. Lin, forgotten for a moment, crawled forward on her elbows, her dark eyes fixed on where Greg and Dawn joined. Without hesitation, she pressed her mouth to Dawn’s clit, her tongue flicking in quick, desperate strokes that drew a shattered cry from Dawn’s lips.

The chaise groaned under their weight, the cushions soaked through. Lila, still sprawled across the other lounge, watched with heavy-lidded eyes, her fingers lazily circling her own clit as Marcus’s hips stuttered. “Going to—” he choked out, but Amy pulled off with a wet pop, leaving him throbbing and exposed. “Not yet,” she purred, her palm pressing down on his cockhead until he hissed. “You don’t get to come until we say.”

Dawn’s thighs clamped around Greg’s ears as Lin’s tongue worked faster, her fingers joining the rhythm inside Dawn’s cunt. Greg could feel the tight coil in his gut again, but Dawn’s nails raking down his back kept him anchored—her orgasm hit first, her body seizing around him with a guttural scream. Lin didn’t let up, licking Dawn through the aftershocks until Dawn sobbed, oversensitive and shaking. Only then did Greg allow himself to follow, his release pulsing into Dawn’s clenched heat while Pim swallowed every drop.

Marcus’s groan cut through the haze—Amy had finally taken him back into her mouth, her fingers twisting his nipples as she sucked him dry. His release was quiet, a shuddering sigh as his head fell back, but Amy milked him for every last shudder, her tongue lapping at his slit until he pushed her away with a muttered curse.

The sudden clatter of high heels on marble snapped Greg’s head up. Serena Van Der Meer—twenty-eight, Dutch, and married to the octogenarian oil magnate three estates down—stood frozen at the edge of the pool deck, her designer sunglasses slipping down her nose. Her gaze dragged from Marcus’s still-dripping cock to Dawn’s sprawled, glistening thighs, then to Greg’s softening length resting against Pim’s flushed cheek. A slow, wicked smile curled her lips as she tossed her platinum braid over one shoulder. “Darlings,” she drawled, stepping out of her stilettos with deliberate slowness. “Starting without me?”

Marcus chuckled, tucking himself back into his trousers with a pat to Amy’s head. “We were just warming up.” He nodded toward the twins, who were still kneeling obediently beside the chaise, their thighs glistening. Serena’s French-manicured nails made quick work of her silk wrap dress, the fabric pooling at her feet to reveal a body honed by daily Pilates and discreet cosmetic enhancements. Greg’s cock twitched against Pim’s lips at the sight of her nipples—pierced with tiny diamonds that caught the sunlight.

Serena didn’t bother with preamble. She straddled Greg’s lap in one smooth motion, her manicured fingers wrapping around his cock to guide him into her dripping cunt. Her breath hitched as she sank down, her inner muscles fluttering around him with practiced precision. “Fuck,” Greg groaned, his hands finding her waist as she began to ride him with slow, rolling thrusts. Dawn, still breathless beside them, reached up to pinch Serena’s nipple, drawing a sharp gasp. “You’re drenched,” Dawn murmured, her thumb brushing the diamond stud before sucking it into her mouth.

Amy, never one to be left out, crawled forward to lick the sweat from Serena’s collarbone, her fingers slipping between the Dutchwoman’s thighs to rub tight circles over her clit. Serena’s hips stuttered, her rhythm faltering as Amy’s touch grew more insistent. “Oh god—right there—” she choked out, her fingers knotting in Amy’s hair. Lin, sensing an opportunity, pressed her mouth to Serena’s other nipple, her tongue flicking the piercing until Serena shuddered, her cunt clamping down on Greg’s cock.

Serena’s hips rolled in a slow, deliberate grind, her diamond-studded nipples brushing against Greg’s chest with each movement. The heat of her cunt was almost unbearable—tight and slick, her inner muscles clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that made his toes curl. Amy’s fingers never let up, circling Serena’s clit with merciless precision while Lin’s mouth trailed lower, her tongue flicking against the base of Greg’s cock where it disappeared into Serena’s glistening folds. The dual sensation—Serena’s heat around him, Lin’s tongue teasing the sensitive skin beneath—sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through Greg’s body.

Dawn, still sprawled beside them, propped herself up on one elbow, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. She reached out, tracing a finger along Serena’s sweat-slicked spine before sliding it lower, dipping into the cleft of her ass. Serena gasped, her back arching, but Dawn didn’t stop—her finger pressed inward, slow and insistent, until Serena’s breath hitched. “Fuck,” Serena moaned, her hips stuttering as Dawn’s finger joined Greg’s cock inside her. The added pressure was overwhelming, and Greg could feel Serena’s body tightening around him, her cunt fluttering erratically.

Amy’s laughter was a breathless whisper against Serena’s thigh. “Close already?” she teased, her fingers never slowing their relentless circles. Serena’s response was a strangled cry as her orgasm ripped through her, her body convulsing around Greg and Dawn’s combined intrusion. Greg gritted his teeth, determined to hold out, but the way Serena’s cunt milked him was too much. His hips jerked upward, driving himself deeper as his own release pulsed into her with a force that left him gasping.

The pool deck was silent except for the ragged breathing of its occupants. Serena collapsed forward, her chest heaving against Greg’s, her diamond piercings leaving faint imprints on his skin. Dawn withdrew her finger with a wet sound, licking it clean with a smirk before flopping back onto the chaise. Amy, ever the instigator, crawled over to Marcus, her fingers already working the button of his trousers again. “Round two?” she purred, her lips brushing the old man’s ear.

Marcus's chuckle was hoarse as Amy's fingers teased him back to half-hardness. "Insatiable," he murmured, but his hips jerked forward when she nipped at his earlobe. Serena, still draped bonelessly over Greg's chest, lifted her head just enough to watch with heavy-lidded eyes. "Someone's eager," she drawled, her French accent thickening with exhaustion. Dawn snorted, stretching like a cat before sliding off the chaise with liquid grace. Her fingers trailed through the condensation on a nearby champagne flute before pressing the cool glass to Serena's flushed back, drawing a hiss from her lips.

Lila, who'd been quietly fingering herself while watching the spectacle, finally pushed up onto her knees. "You're all *exhausting*," she muttered, but there was no bite to it—just the rasp of someone who'd screamed herself hoarse. She grabbed Pim's wrist, tugging the dazed maid toward the pool's edge. "Cool off," she ordered, shoving her in with a splash that sent droplets spraying across Marcus's polished shoes. Lin followed without prompting, her uniform long discarded as she sank into the water with a relieved sigh.

Amy abandoned Marcus's cock with a wet pop, her gaze locking onto the twins bobbing in the turquoise water. "Now there's an idea," she purred, sauntering toward the pool's edge. Greg watched as she stepped in, the water lapping at her thighs as she crooked a finger at Lin. The maid obeyed instantly, wading forward until Amy could fist a hand in her hair and yank her into a bruising kiss. Serena's breath hitched against Greg's collarbone. "Christ, she's relentless," she muttered, but Greg felt her thighs squeeze around his hips where she still straddled him.

Dawn's shadow fell across them as she plucked a fresh bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. "And you're sticky," she announced, upending it over Greg and Serena with a grin. The icy liquid made Serena yelp, her body jerking against Greg's oversensitive cock, but Dawn didn't stop until the bottle was empty. "There." She tossed it aside with a clatter. "Now you're presentable."

The clink of crystal glasses echoed through the mahogany-paneled den as five boys—Greg, Marcus's grandson Sebastian, oil heir Rafael, tech dynasty brat Jax, and shipping mogul's son Oliver—slouched in leather armchairs still warm from their fathers' earlier cigar session. Greg swirled his whiskey, the amber liquid catching the low light, before nodding toward the door where Amy’s laughter still drifted from the pool deck. “Rules are simple,” he said, stretching his legs. “No wives. No sisters. Just the ones who say they don’t want it.”

Sebastian, seventeen and already built like a rugby player, smirked into his glass. “Define ‘want it.’” His knuckles were still scraped from last week’s escapade with the head gardener’s wife—a woman twice his age who’d sobbed his name into the rosebushes. Greg grinned, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. “You know damn well.” The unspoken truth hung between them: on Greenhaven, “want” was a fluid concept, especially when your last name came with a private army.

Jax—slight, sharp-eyed, and perpetually bored—tossed a poker chip onto the table. “What’s the point?” He flicked his lighter open and shut. “We could fuck anyone on this island now.” Oliver snorted, rolling his neck until it cracked. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He leaned forward, his gold signet ring glinting. “I’m talking about the ones who pretend they don’t want it. The ones who fight.” His gaze slid to Rafael, whose fingers tightened around his glass. Everyone knew about Rafael’s stepmother—the Brazilian ballet dancer who’d locked her bedroom door for a month after the wedding.

Greg set his drink down with a decisive thud. “MFC. Milf Fuckers Club.” He pointed at the vintage globe in the corner, its brass stand polished to a mirror shine. “First to break a new one gets their initials carved in it.” Sebastian’s brow arched. “And if we share?” Greg’s smile turned feral. “Then we share the carving.”