I chuckled low, hips circling slow, nasty, deliberate.
The crowd roared, oblivious to the filth spilling between us, cheering as I dipped lower, slid back up, then ground against her like I was fucking her in front of everyone.
Over her shoulder, I caught James' face—jaw tight, eyes burning, chest heaving like he was seconds away from giving into the pleasure coursing through him.
The song ended, but I stayed perched in her lap, catching my breath, my body humming. The noise of the cookout faded under the pulse in my veins, under the look in James' eyes, under Calla’s hand still gripping my waist like she never wanted me to move.
When I finally stood, adjusting my top, Lena was near tears from laughing, clapping like a proud stage mom. “That’s my best friend! Nasty as hell—YESSS!”
I covered my face, giggling, but Calla’s smirk and James' stare told me the truth.
That wasn’t just a dance. That was a challenge.
And none of us were backing down.
The crowd slowly broke apart after the song, people rushing back to the slip-and-slide, the food table, the makeshift dance floor in the yard. But I stayed right there in the circle, heat still buzzing through my body, Calla’s touch still stamped on my skin.
She didn’t move either.
She adjusted her glass, smoothed her skirt like nothing had happened, then leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. But her eyes? They stayed locked on me, sharp and dangerous.
“You enjoyed that,” she murmured, just low enough that the words cut under the noise. “Grinding on me in front of everyone.”
My throat went dry. “Maybe.”
Her lips curved. “Don’t play coy. You practically begged me to touch you. The way you rolled your hips…” Her gaze swept me up and down, deliberate. “Bold little thing.”
I felt my cheeks heat, but I didn’t look away. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
She chuckled, slow and sultry, tilting her glass toward me. “Oh, I didn’t. I never mind being worshiped.”
James shifted behind her, still silent, still smoldering. His jaw ticked, his stare burning a hole through me. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to drag me away or fuck me right there.
Yanna clapped her hands, laughing. “Whew! Miya done turned this cookout into Magic City.”
“You know we have a pole in the basement if you three need some privacy to continue the show,” Caleb’s fine ass smirked.
Dana shook her head, grinning. “Nah, she turned it into Provocateur. Y’all seen Calla’s face? She ain’t been that amused in a minute.”
The group burst into laughter, and I nearly choked on my drink. Calla just smiled, as if she held a secret none of them knew.
“Don’t embarrass her,” Ajaih teased. “She’s clearly comfortable.”
My eyes flicked to Calla. Her nails tapped the rim of her glass, slow, steady, each sound a reminder. She leaned forward just enough for her words to reach me and James, no one else.
“Imagine if that was my strap instead of my lap,” she whispered, voice cutting through the chatter. “Would you still grind on me in front of everyone? Would you still talk nasty as fuck in my ear?”
My body clenched, a sharp jolt of heat surging through me.
I forced a shaky laugh, lifting my cup to my lips. “You sofuckin’ nasty,” I breathed out, clit pulsating at the thought of me riding her.
Her smile widened, wicked and knowing. “No, sweetheart. I’m inevitable.”
James' hand tightened around his bottle, his silence louder than the music blasting in the yard.
And Lena? She was across the circle, sipping her drink with the smuggest grin on her face, mouthing, “That’s my best friend.”
THE DUNGEON
