My Son Has Good Taste

Jelena's phone buzzes with news she never saw coming. Her son won ten million, just like that. Then he drops the second bomb—he got married. The excitement drains out of her voice. She wants names, details, proof this girl isn't circling cash like a vulture. He's already on his way over, so she sits in the living room and waits for the inevitable. When Lana Rhoades walks in, she’s young, polished, and gives Jelena nothing solid—just thin answers about gigs and hobbies that scream temporary. When Lana asks where the bedroom is, Jelena points her down the hall. Minutes later she hears a low, wet sound and pushes the door open. Lana’s naked on the bed, legs spread, fingers working fast between her thighs. Jelena backs up, but Lana’s voice cuts through—come back in, we’re family now, might as well get used to each other. Lana reaches for her wrist and pulls, telling her to stay. Jelena tries to step away twice, but each time Lana tugs her closer, and the heat crawling up her spine is already too strong to ignore. Her son picked well, anyone can see that, but she’s not about to fuck his brand-new wife. Lana doesn’t care. She peels Jelena’s top off, mouth hot on skin, and every push Jelena gives back is weaker than the last.