Exactly what Jeremy predicts

The bathroom door creaked open, and my stomach dropped. Mom stepped out in exactly what Jeremy predicted—thin cotton shorts clinging to her thighs, the hem riding up dangerously high, and that fucking tank top stretched taut over her chest. No bra. Her nipples pressed against the fabric, dark and obvious. She towel-dried her hair, oblivious to Jeremy's hungry stare or how my fists trembled at my sides.

"Told you," Jeremy muttered, voice thick. He didn't even bother hiding his erection as he adjusted himself, eyes locked on the way Mom's tits swayed when she bent to grab a water bottle from the fridge. The sight of her ass flexing under the shorts—inches from his face—made him lick his lips. "She always does this after work. Like clockwork."