The entire mansion still carried that mouthwatering haze of brown-sugar butter and roasted turkey fat, but the real heat wasn't coming from the oven anymore.
It was the lingering awkwardness from breakfast.
Adeline and Isla had turned the five-star holiday spread into a subtle… not-so-subtle seduction. While everyone else tried to enjoy the golden turkey, truffle mac, and honey-glazed carrots, those two succubi had Scott sandwiched between them like he was the main course.
Adeline's hand kept "accidentally" drifting under the table toward his crotch and twice he had to catch her wrist mid-dive and laugh it off like a maniac. Isla wasn't any better; every time he turned his head, her soft chest would press into his arm or her thigh would slide against his under the tablecloth.
Yet somehow, through all the nipple tracing and forward ass-wiggling "back support" requests, Scott still managed to keep a smile on his face.
