I slipped out first, smoothing my expression, calm and unshaken. Amiyah followed a beat later, her handbrushing mine briefly before she pulled away, her face carefully arranged in neutrality.
But I saw it in the way she walked.
In the way her thighs brushed.
In the way, she couldn’t quite meet my eyes now.
She was marked.
And when we stepped back into the heat of the cookout, I caught James' gaze across the yard. His eyes narrowed, jaw tight, reading the shift instantly.
I smiled, slow, deliberate, possessive.
I knew he’d notice.
The second, Amiyah and I stepped back into the crowd, her face flushed, her lips swollen, her thighs pressed tight together. I could feel James' stare like a spotlight. His jaw flexed, his grip white-knuckled around that bottle, all nine inches of his dick practically screaming through his jeans.
And me? I stayed quiet, remaining polished and very much smug. I wanted him to see it. I wanted him to know I’d had my fingers inside her, that I’d tasted what he’s been dreaming about, and that I hadn’t saved a single drop for him.
It didn’t take long. The party roared around us, bass thumping, people shouting at the DJ, but James cut through it all. His hand clamped around my wrist, dragging me through the side gate, out into the shadows where the music dulled and the air grew thick with privacy.
He pinned me against the siding, chest heaving. “What the fuck did you do in there?”
I smirked, calm as ever. “What makes you think I did anything?”
“Don’t play with me, Calla,” he growled, his bodycrowding mine, his hand bracing my head. “I can see it all over her. She looked wrecked. What did you do?”
I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear, and let the truth drip like poison. “I tasted her.”
His whole body jerked. His dick throbbed; I could feel the pulse of it in the air between us.
I let my nails drag down his chest, slow and deliberate. “She called me Mistress, James. Said she was mine. And when I slipped my fingers inside her…” I tilted my head, savoring the flicker of pain and hunger in his eyes. “…she was already dripping for me.”
He groaned, fists clenching at his sides.
I laughed low, dark, filthy. “She came on my hand, right against the bathroom door, then I licked her cream off my fingers. She was the perfect good girl, sweet, needy, and best of all, obedient.”
His breath hitched, his rigid dick straining so hard against his jeans it looked painful.
“And now?” I let my lips curl into a slow, vicious smile. “Now I’m soaking wet. My pussy is aching for release, and my ass is tingling just thinking about your tongue where it belongs.”
“Calla—”
“On your knees.” My voice snapped sharp, a whip crack in the night. “Now.”
And just like that, the proud, powerful engineer dropped in front of me, without an ounce of hesitation. No fight, just pure submission.
I turned, braced my palms against the siding, and arched my ass back at him. Tugged my skirt up, bared myself, glistening and ready. My pussy wet and needy, my asshole tight and begging.
“Eat,” I commanded, heat curling low in my belly. “Both.”
The growl in his throat vibrated through me as he buried his face between my cheeks. His tongue drove into my pussy first, licking me open, drinking me down. My head snapped back, a raw moan spilling out of me.
I braced against the siding, skirt hiked over my hips, my ass arched back, while he buried himself between my cheeks like a man possessed. His tongue worked everywhere, deep inside my pussy, circling my clit, then sliding up to my tightest place, teasing, pressing, tasting like he needed it to live.
“Yes,” I hissed, nails raking against the wall. “That’s it. Be my good boy and make me come, James. Clean me like you’re starving for it.”
And God, he was.
