“Good fucking girl,” he rasps, voice dark and ruined. “Now take it. Take every drop like you’re made for me.”
When he spills into me, it’s not quiet. It’s a violent groan, a vow, his cock pulsing deep while his hand stays locked in my hair like he’s scared I’ll disappear if he lets go.
The world outside keeps celebrating. The music swells, the laughter echoes, the lights spill golden through the stained-glass windows.
But in here?
It’s war.
It’s ruin.
It’s him.
And I let him.
We slip back through the side door, my dress clinging, hair ruined, his hand still welded to mine like he doesn’t trust me not to vanish the second he loosens his grip. The room spins with colour and sound, and before I can even gather breath—Lola crashes straight into us.
“Holy shit,” she laughs, flinging her arms around both our shoulders and squeezing until my ribs ache. “I was about to send a search party. You two look like—” she pulls back, eyes flicking over us, lips curling, “—yeah, no, I don’t even need to say it.”
Dax smirks, still breathless, the bastard. “Guess subtle’s never been my style.”
“Subtle?” Lola snorts. “You two disappeared in the middle of my first dance as a married woman. Half the room is taking bets on whether the kitchen table survived.”
My cheeks flame. “Lola?—”
“Don’t you Lola me,” she grins, tugging us both back into a softer hug this time, her voice dipping low. “God, I’m going to miss you.”
I freeze. My stomach plunges.
She didn’t say us.
She said him.
I pull away, searching her face. “Wait—what? What do you mean?”
Lola’s smile fractures. She turns sharply, pinning Dax with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “You didn’t fucking tell her, did you?”
The air detonates. Heavy. Sudden. Loaded.
“Lola,” I press, my voice cracking. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Lola doesn’t look at me. Not once. Her entire fury is locked on him, her hand stabbing at his chest with the precision of a blade.
“You had one job, Dax. One. Fucking. Job.”
“Not here.” His voice is steel—low, warning.
“Not here?” Lola fires back. “When then? When she’s blindsided? When it’s too late to even?—”
“Lola.” His tone drops darker, but she barrels straight through it.
“You think you’re protecting her? You think keeping her in the dark is some noble sacrifice? No. You’re doing what you always do—shutting down, locking up, and dragging everyone else into your wreckage with you.”
My pulse spikes. “Stop it. Stop talking around me like I’m not standing right here!”
Neither of them turns. Neither flinches.
Lola’s eyes blaze. “She deserves the truth.”
