My chest tightened. I kissed her again, unable to help it, then pulled back just enough to look at her properly. “There’s something I want you to come to with me, as my date.”
She blinked, curiosity flickering in her gaze.
“The BlackSphere annual masquerade gala. It’s for a charitable cause,” I admitted. “Formal gowns, masks, champagne, speeches. The kind of night where everyone’s watching.” My thumb traced the curve of her cheek. “I don’t want to go alone this year. I want you and James there with me.”
Her lips parted, surprise flickering across her face before it melted into something softer. “Me? At your company’s big event?”
“Yes.” My voice left no room for doubt. “Not as a colleague. Not as someone hidden in the shadows but as my girlfriend.”
Her eyes glistened, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “What would I even wear?”
A laugh slipped from me, unguarded. “Something unforgettable. I’ll make sure of it.”
She tucked her face into my neck, her laughter vibrating against my skin. “You’re serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious.” I tightened my arm around her, breathing her in. “I want them to see you, masked, maybe, but mine.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t pull away. She just held me tighter.
In this moment, the thought of being vulnerable in public didn’t terrify me. With her, it almost felt like freedom.
MIDNIGHT IN BLOOM
I hadn’t seen either of them since Provocateur.
We’d texted just enough to keep me breathing, just enough to remind me it hadn’t all been a fever dream, but it wasn’t the same without them, not even close. I couldn’t sleep right, couldn’t eat right, hell, I couldn’t breathe the same without them near me.
So I buried myself in work. I spent the rest of the weekend at my parents’ old house, fixing small things before the sale was finalized, tightening leaky faucets, patching cracks, and replacing bulbs. The kind of quiet work that kept my hands busy while my mind spun in circles. But even there, in the silence of those empty rooms, all I could think about was the two of them. The way they’d undone me. The way I’d let them. The way I wanted more.
Today was supposed to be a distraction. Kickoff meeting for the overpass project. All the contractors, subs, and my team packed into a conference room to hash out safety, schedules, and logistics. It was the kind of thing I usually thrived on, a billion moving parts, and me at the center, pulling the strings.
But then Amiyah walked in.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice warm, professional.
I turned around, forgetting how to breathe.
Her hair, usually a halo of curls, was bone straight, glossy, and sharp, hanging down her back like a blade. The eggplant purple wide-leg pants skimmed the floor, perfectly tailored, with a silk orange blouse tucked in that glowed against her skin. Orange heels to match, work bag slung over her shoulder, glasses framing her face.
She looked like sex, and I couldn’t hide my emotions if I wanted to. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to ruin every inch of that polished armor and remind her who she whispered for in the dark.
But all I could do was stare.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked, setting her bag down, eyes soft behind the lenses.
It took me a second too long to find my voice. “Uh, yeah. You can… put the meeting agendas on the seats. I’ll finish setting up.”
She smiled, politely and professionally, “Gotcha,” she replied, but I saw the flicker of heat there, quick as a spark, before she moved to do as I asked. My chest ached watching her, the sway of her hips even in wide-leg trousers, the confidence in every step.
By the time the contractors filtered in and the chatter filled the room, I was already strung tight, and then Calla walked in.
Her navy blue wrap dress clung to every curve she owned, knotted perfectly at the waist. Slingback heels clicked against the tile, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail that made her cheekbones look lethal. She carried herself like she wasn’t walking into a meeting; instead, she was walking onto a battlefield, and she knew she’d already won.
My throat closed.
They were both here, my women, acting like they hadn’t had me on my knees pleasing them; however, they needed to be days ago. Acting like they hadn’t left me gutted and starving for more.
I tried to focus as people introduced themselves, as schedules and safety briefings started rolling, but all I could think about was Calla’s moan in my ear, and Amiyah’s trembling whisper of Mistress, and the way they looked at me, like I was theirs.
