Maverick smirked, swirling his whiskey slowly. “Nah, Caleb. That ain’t the look of bills being paid. That’s the look of somebody getting paid in… other ways.” His eyes flicked knowingly between James and Calla, and my face went up in flames.
James shifted beside me, his shoulders tight, jaw flexing hard. He hadn’t said a word, but I could feel the tension pouring off him, every pulse from his end controlled by the same hand that was unraveling me.
Yanna leaned across Dana, her eyes glittering with mischief. “See, this is why I love a masquerade. Y’all think the masks hide the secrets, but baby, the real fun is watching what people can’t hide.”
Dana snickered. “Mhm, and right now, Amiyah’s hiding about as well as a cat in a bathtub filled with water.”
Heat crawled up my throat, but before I could stammer out some excuse, Calla set her glass down with a delicate clink. She didn’t even look rattled, not an inch.
Instead, she smiled at the table, smooth and sharp all at once. “What’s life without a little tension?” Her gaze swept across Caleb and Maverick, daring them to keep poking. “Besides, I take care of what’s mine.”
That word, “mine,” hit me like a brand, and judging by the way James' hand fisted under the tablecloth, it seared him too.
Ahmir let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. “Well damn. Guess we all know who’s running this show.”
Maverick laughed, tossing an arm around Ajaih. “I mean… it runs in the family. Carter men stay getting claimed. First me, now James, guess we better get used to it.”
The whole table cracked up, and even Knox, ever the composed one, chuckled into his wine glass.
Meanwhile, Calla leaned back, serene and unbothered, her hand brushing lightly against my thigh under the table. She didn’t turn the vibrations higher yet, but the threat of it lingered in the air, electric and heavy, while she basked in the knowledgethat she had both James and me trembling in her orbit.
And me?
I lifted my chin, refusing to look away from the amused glances circling the table. They could laugh, smirk, and tease all they wanted. The truth was out, painted across every flush of my skin, every bite of my lip. I belonged to them, and I wasn’t hiding it anymore.
The laughter still rippled around the table when Calla shifted beside me, her hand casually brushing her clutch again. I felt it immediately, another jolt, sharper, hotter, that tore a gasp straight out of my throat.
The table went quiet for half a beat. Every eye turned toward me, and I knew I was caught. My chest rose and fell too fast, my grip on my glass so tight it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.
And then James groaned low under his breath, his knuckles slamming against the edge of the table as he tried to play it off as a cough. But the flush creeping up his neck gave him away.
The silence broke into stunned laughter.
“See!” Caleb shouted, pointing between the two of us. “I knew I wasn’t trippin’. Look at em’. Both of ‘em melting like butter in July.”
Yanna whistled, eyes wide and wicked. “Oh my God. She’s controlling both of them, definitely giving Mistress vibes,” she winked.
Dana fanned herself with her napkin. “Whew, I suddenly feel like I should tip her for the show.”
Maverick leaned in, his grin sharp. “That’s not control, that’s domination.” He tipped his glass toward Calla. “And I respect it.”
Arousal coiled around my body, not just from the vibrations but from the realization that Calla wasn’t hiding this; she was showcasing it, with pride. She was calm and commanding, and placed one hand on the table like a queen addressing her court.
“Absolutely,” she said smoothly, her voice carrying enough for everyone to hear. “Both of them. Their pleasure belongs to me tonight.”
The air at the table thickened. I could feel James stiffen, his body betraying him with every surge. My own thighs trembled beneath the gown. Everyone at the table smirked, but no one looked away.
Calla’s smile was serene, unshaken. “And make no mistake,” she added, raising her glass. “They’re not complaining.”
The toast was met with a chorus of chuckles, whistles, and clinking glasses. Caleb shouted, “To Calla the Conqueror!” and everyone echoed it, their glasses raised high, as they laughed.
James' eyes found mine across the tablecloth, dark and drowning in heat. I knew he was holding on by a thread, just like me.
And Calla? She sat between us, unbothered, radiant, sipping champagne as if she hadn’t just let the whole table know in so many words she was our mistress and we submitted unrelentingly in front of everyone we knew.
And the wildest part?
I loved every second of it.
