Wedding-adjacent. That's the clean word for it. Nate's in a suit jacket with his tie loosened like he just escaped a brawl at the reception. Laura holds a camera and grins. "Show me," she says. Then he has her pinned to a workbench, legs splayed wide, heat glistening and stretched tight around his hardness.

But Nate's not the only one. Cole's back hits a pool house wall and Laura's sundress flashes creamy heat. A roar explodes from his throat as he spends — hard, hot, fast — slick rope spraying her hand. Julian pins her against chipped plaster in The Pink Razor's back room while glitter smears off her t**s onto his shirt. She confesses she'd finger herself imagining his hands and mouth every time he came over with Nate. Dean pushes her onto a motel bed with springs creaking, neon streaks dancing on her skin, and plunges deep. She dresses quick and practiced, slipping out into the neon-drenched parking lot. Everyone's wrecking someone they shouldn't.