They don’t ask for permission—they just slideinto our booth like they’ve been invited. “Damn, y’all look too good to be sitting here alone,” the one in green purrs, her voice smooth as honey. “You want a dance, baby?”
Before I can even form a word, her leg swings over me settling into my lap, her body heat punching through the lace of my corset. Her perfume hits instantly—sweet and sugary—dancing around me until it’s all I can breathe. Her lips graze my ear, while her hips roll slowly against me—just enough to make my focus slip away from everything else.
Across from me, the silver one claims Arina with the same fearless ease, sliding onto her lap and looping an arm around her shoulders like she’s been waiting to touch her.
“How about you, sexy?” she teases, fingers slipping into Arina’s long hair. “Care for some company?”
Arina grins, eyes half-lidded, already leaning into it. “You read my mind.”
The green one laughs softly against my ear, her breath warm as her body sways. “Oh, she’s got good taste,” she whispers, voice a low hum. “But I think you might be the one to steal the show tonight mama.”
. I grin, shooting Arina a look as the bass hums beneath us, the booth crowded with heat and intention. The three men across the floor have not stopped staring. But with two dancers pressed against us—whispering filthy compliments that would make anyone believe I go both ways—their dark knowing gazes don’t weigh on me as much.
If anything, they feel like a reward.
Like we just took their power and shoved it down out throats.
“To new beginnings,” Arina says, raising her glass, her voice rising just enough to cut through the beat. A smile plastered on her face.
“To being unforgettable,” the girl in silver adds, grinning as she tightens her arm around Arina’s shoulder, their laughter blending with the pulse of the music.
The dancer in neon green lifts her drink toward me, eyes sparkling under the pink and violet lights. “And to looking damn good doing it.”
“Hell yeah!” I shout, my glass clinking against theirs before I take a long, burning sip.
We burst into laughter—loud and unbothered. The dancers never bother with names, and we don’t ask. We came to feel alive, and they’re giving us exactly that.
But as I set down the empty glass, something shifts—the air thickens, a heat presses against my side like a hand that hasn’t touched me yet. A shadow slices through the glow of the stage lights, tall and consuming, drawing closer with purpose.
I look up, and the air snags in my throat. One of the three men stands over me, towering in a way that makes the whole place feel small. His presence magnetic is impossible to ignore—pulling me in like gravity has a personal vendetta. His broad shoulders strain against a half-open black button-up, the fabric clinging to a chest I have no business drooling over. A gold chain rests against warm, light-brown skin, catching the light every time he breathes. His jaw is carved sharp, dusted with stubble just begging to be touched, but it’s his eyes that pin me—hazel and hungry, roaming over me like he’s peeling me open inch by inch without ever laying a hand on me. They almost remind me of caramel delights—toffee-toned, dark brown tracing the edges.
Even in the dim glow, they stand out.
The second guy waits at the end of the table, arms crossed, posture easy but radiating the kind of control that makes it hard to breathe. His white shirt clings to his chest, outlining every hard line beneath it. Tattoos coil down hisforearm like smoke with intent, veins shifting under his skin with every curl of his fingers.
And the grin he gives me tells me he’s not just in my head—he’s already decided I’m his to look at.
Then there’s the third. He stands near Arina, staring at her like she’s a sacred goddess he’s already claimed in his head but hasn’t touched yet. His tailored navy jacket shapes his body perfectly, hands shoved into his pockets like they’re restraining him. His gaze slides down to the lift her dress, tongue grazing his lip before he pulls it back, desire tightening his whole face.
Arina only laughs, her attention going to the dancer in her lap like she’s waiting for him to make a move.
The girl in the neon-green lingerie tightens her grip on my thighs, her skin hot against mine. “Don’t worry about them, baby,” she whispers, voice low and husky. “Star’s got you tonight—unless they plan on sharing.”
Her nails trace the lace of my corset, brushing over the rim of my overly exposed breasts, my breathing going shallow.
Finally, her name—Star.
Across from us, the dancer in silver slides higher into Arina’s lap, her arm draping lazily across her neck, fingers stroking her cheek. “Yeah, gorgeous,” she murmurs, eyes flicking toward the men. “Light’s got you shining brighter than anyone in this room. But we don’t mind sharing either.”
Arina’s smirk softens, her hand squeezing Light’s thigh just enough to make her giggle. “I like the way you think,” she says, voice playful but edged with something sharp.
I can’t help but laugh. Starlight is comical yet cleaver.
The three men watch with hungry eyes, torn between dragging the dancers off us or letting the show play out just to see how far it goes.
The one standing closest finally bends down, his voice cutting straight through the music. “Mind if we join you, ladies—all of us?”
His beautiful hazel eyes lock onto mine, the question hanging between the table. I glance at Arina and she lifts one brow, lips curling into a small, knowing smile as she nods once.
