Then he saw all of it.

His mouth stopped working.

From this angle — level with the glass, close enough that his breath fogged it — he could see Cruxius clearly behind her, one hand braced on the window frame above Jenny’s head, the other arm locked under her thigh keeping her open, hips moving in that deep, punishing rhythm that made her whole body jiggle forward with every impact.

Her breasts were flattened against the glass from the inside.

Her pussy was running down it from the inside.

And she was screaming — muffled through the pane, audible anyway — not in a way that sounded like suffering.

Jake’s mouth twitched.

"...Leave her alone." The words came out barely above a whisper. "You bastard."

Then louder: "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

His foot slipped.

The railing gave — old iron, wet with evening damp — and his grip released entirely, his body dropping, one hand catching the bar below for a single, graceless second before he fell the rest of the way to the garden level and landed hard on his hip in the soft dirt of the flower bed.

A dog barked — then another, the sound carrying sharp and immediate from somewhere nearby — and Jake was already scrambling upright, mud on his elbow, when the garden gate swung open.

"Stop it, you rascal—!"

His cart — the little food cart he’d dragged here, the one he’d been leaning against for the last twenty minutes working up the courage to ring the bell — got yanked sideways by the lunge of the dog on the lead, wheels skidding, something spilling.

He grabbed for it.

He missed.

"What are you doing here again, kid?"

The voice hit him like cold water.

Jenny’s mother stood in the garden doorway in her nightgown, arms crossed, expression carrying the specific brand of contempt that only a woman who has already made a decision can wear on her face.

Jake straightened, mud on his knee, dog still barking somewhere behind the fence. "Aunty — Jenny is with someone else — there’s a man in her room, I saw—"

The slap came before he finished.

Clean, open-palmed, loud enough that the dog went quiet for a second.

"You bastard."

Her voice was not loud. It didn’t need to be.

"You have already lost what you had. You don’t have property here anymore. My daughter is not yours. She was never going to be yours, not after what your family—"

"Please—" Jake said.

"You show up here with your sad eyes and your father’s drama and you think I owe you something?"

"Please, just let me explain—"

"Go."

She pointed at the street beyond the gate.

The security guard who’d appeared at the sound of the slap took Jake by the arm — not rough, but final — and walked him backward through the gate while he tried to turn, tried to get one more word in, tried to make the situation something other than what it was.

The gate clicked shut.

Jake stood on the pavement.

His face was wet.

He hadn’t noticed when that had started.

He looked up at the window.

The light inside was warm.

And there, cast in shadow on the glass like a puppet theatre with no curtain — the shape of a woman on all fours, one leg lifted, a man’s hand wrapped full around her breast from behind, his hips moving in a clear, rhythmic, unmistakable arc.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

And there, literally like a bitch, turned into a doggy style with leg lifted up, while hand groping the boob of Jenny’s shadow, man was plunging his cock in and out, fucking her, while Jake was thrown out by Jenny’s mother.

Jake’s hands balled into fists at his sides.

"No, I will kill you, bastard," he said, to the shadow. To no one. The words came out broken at the edges, not a threat so much as a thing he had nowhere else to put.

He wiped his face with his sleeve.

He cleaned his tears and turned and walked.

Behind the gate, Jenny’s mother stood watching the back of his retreating figure for a long moment before she said to the guard, "If he comes back, call the police this time."

The guard nodded.

She turned toward the house, smoothing her nightgown with both hands, exhaling through her nose — the long, deliberate exhale of a woman resetting herself after an irritant has been removed.

Then she looked up.

At the window.

Her hand froze at her waist.

The light was still on.

And the shadow on the glass — still moving, still clearly, unmistakably moving — was not Jenny alone.

She stood there.

Watching it for four full seconds, the shape of it clear enough: her daughter’s silhouette rocking forward on each impact, the broad shape of a man behind her, hands visible on her waist, as she saw a man fucking none other than Jenny. She knew no one can be inside of Jenny’s room, except for jenny.

She took a breath.

Reached into the pocket of her nightgown.

Pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took one long, slow pull.

"...This Jenny," she said to herself, the smoke curling upward in the night air.

Her eyes moved from the window to the middle distance and back to the window again.

She tapped the ash.

"Better just be a one-night stand."

Naturally, she allowed her daughter to fuck a guy, enjoy and forget about Jake.

She exhaled — slow, unhurried — and let her eyes stay on the shadow a moment longer than was strictly necessary for judgment.

The man was not small.

That much the silhouette communicated clearly.

She made a sound in her throat that was not disapproval.

"I hope he isn’t too hard on her." A pause. The cigarette moved. "...He looked hard. I might get some session too after Jenny is done with him."

She laughed, once — short, dry, the laugh of a woman who has been young herself and hasn’t entirely forgotten it — before entered the room in her nightgown.

PAH! PAH! PAAAH!

The headboard had given up pretending — it knocked against the wall in a loose, rhythmic percussion while the bed beneath them protested under the combined impact of his weight and velocity, the frame creaking in long, winding complaints with every deep stroke.

"Hhnn—!! AAAHH~!! CRUXIUS—!!"

Jenny’s face was buried in the mattress.

She’d been thrown there — both wrists released, one clean twist of his hips spinning her from the window to the bed with a motion that had her breasts swinging hard enough to slap against the sheets on impact, the air punched out of her lungs before she could brace.

His hands found her ass from behind — both palms spreading across the flesh of her cheeks, thumbs pressing inward — and he held her open while he looked down at where his cock disappeared into her soaked, swollen cunt, her pussy lips stretched thin and red around his girth, the ring of her entrance fluttering on every pull-back like it was trying to keep him inside against his own withdrawal.

He watched it for exactly one second.

Then he grabbed her hips and drove back in to the hilt.

PAAAH!

"AAANGHH—!! I—I c-can’t—!!"

She was going to break.

Not in a way that frightened her — in a way that her body had been building toward since he’d first pressed his cock against her folds and made her understand that Jake had given her five inches of fine and this was something else entirely, something that would make fine feel like nothing ever again.

She was going to ruin herself on this man and she couldn’t find the part of her that cared.

PAH! PAH!

"Mngh~!! Unhh— A—AANHH~!!"

He pulled back.

All the way — slowly — until just the fat head remained inside, caught at her entrance, the rim of her pussy stretched around that single point, her walls rippling with involuntary clenching.

She whimpered.

Then he slammed forward one final time — deep, full, the slap of his hips against her ass cracking loud and wet, his balls swinging forward to smack her clit — and Jenny came apart completely, squirting in a hard, continuous stream that ran down his shaft and her thighs and soaked through the sheets in a widening dark circle, her whole body shaking, her scream going half-silent with the force of it, as Jenny’s pussy was agaped. She squirted fountain while his seed painted her body.

Cruxius groaned — low, private, satisfied — and pulled out.

His cock stood thick and flushed and dripping as he stroked it — two, three deliberate pulls — and came across her body in long, hot ropes, the seed landing across the small of her back, the curve of her ass, the spread of her inner thighs, painting her in slow, thorough strokes while she twitched and pulsed beneath him, pussy still clenching around nothing, gaping slightly at the entrance, too stretched to close immediately.

He looked at her.

At the wet, ruined bed. At the fog still fading on the window glass across the room. At the faint shadow on the curtain where a man had stood and watched and had nothing to offer in return.

He chuckled.

He’d heard her mother in the garden — every word, the cigarette, the laugh, the last thing she’d said before she walked back inside.

Maybe Jenny will share.

He rolled his shoulder.

’Another one,’ he thought, tucking the information away with the same unhurried ease with which he catalogued everything.

’Seems another bitch wants to spread her legs.’

He glanced down at Jenny — one last look at the body draped loose and thoroughly claimed across the wet mattress, her pussy still leaking slowly onto the sheets, his seed still warm across her skin — and smirked.

"Hey, wanna go for another few rounds within bathroom?"