The question hits its mark with uncomfortable precision.
“That’s different,” I argue weakly.
“Why?” Cora stands now, too, challenging me across the table. “Because it’s me? Because accepting my help means admitting you need someone?”
I look away, walls crumbling faster than I can rebuild them.
“You helped me face my father,” she says, softer now. “Let me help you fight him too.”
The room falls silent as I wrestle with instincts honed over decades. Every fiber in my body screams to refuse, to handle this alone.
“My entire life,” I finally say, “depending on others has meant weakness. Vulnerability meant being exploited.”
Ever since my childhood, I’ve relied on myself. It’s not like I could have relied on my parents. They cared about nothing but their careers, social circles, and their own image. I learned toexpect nothing but coldness at home, rarely seeing my parents for weeks, and being left to the maid.
“Maybe for the man who raised you,” Cora steps closer, “but not with us. Not with me.”
I look at her—really look at her—and see strength, not pity. A partnership, not charity.
“Fifteen percent stake,” I say finally. “As a silent partner.”
“Twenty percent,” she counters without missing a beat. “And a seat at the table for major decisions.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “You drive a hard bargain, Pike.”
“Did you expect anything else?” Her smile is part challenge, part affection.
“Fine. Twenty percent.”
As our hands clasp to seal the deal, something shifts inside me. This isn’t surrender. It’s an alliance. Not weakness, but a different kind of strength—one I’m only beginning to understand.
Cora’s eyes spark with something mischievous as she steps around the table toward me.
“Let’s seal the deal with a kiss, partner.” She slides her hand behind my neck, pulling me down to her height.
I surrender to her touch, letting her guide me. When our lips meet, there’s nothing tentative about it. She kisses me like she’s claiming territory, her tongue meeting mine with deliberate intention. My hand finds the small of her back, pulling her against me as the kiss deepens.
A groan breaks the silence—not from Cora or me, but from across the table.
“Is dinner officially over?” Ryder’s voice has dropped an octave, that familiar hungry edge creeping in.
“Because I’m suddenly craving dessert,” Liam adds, loosening his tie with one finger.
Cora pulls back just enough to break the kiss, though her body remains pressed against mine. The smile curving her lips makes my cock harden instantly.
“Actually,” she says, tracing a finger down my chest, “I’ve been wanting to try something.”
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, my voice rougher than intended.
Her eyes flick between the three of us men, calculating. “I want to watch the three of you fuck. While I direct... and touch.”
My eyebrows rise. “You want to watch?”
“I want to see you in the middle again, Daddy, it’s so hot,” she clarifies, and the name sends heat surging through my body. “But this time, you can fuck Liam’s ass while Ryder fucks yours.”
“You want me to bottom again, to Ryder?” The question comes out more strangled than commanding.
“I want to see you taking it again,” she explains, her fingers trailing lower. “Getting your dick strangled by Liam’s tight ass while Ryder fills yours.” Her hand cups my erection through my pants. “Look how hard you are just thinking about it.”
