I claw at his shoulders, meeting his thrusts, water splashing. "Harder... talk to me."
"Dirty girl, begging for more." He pounds faster, one hand tangling in my wet hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck. He bites down lightly. "This pussy's mine now. Gonna fill you up, mark you inside."
"Yes... yours." The words push me over again, climax building as he hits deep.
"Come with me," he growls, thrusts erratic. "Milk my cock, princess."
We explode together, my cries echoing off the tiles, his groan muffled against my skin as he spills inside me.
Panting, we slump against the wall, water still raining down. He kisses me soft now, a contrast to the filth. "You okay?"
"More than." I smile, sated. But the day's just starting—show tonight, stalker still out there. For now, though, this? It’s perfect.
The showcase hallpulses with controlled chaos—lights flashing in test patterns, music thumping through the speakers, models strutting in half-finished looks while designers bark adjustments. I’m in the middle of it all, barefoot on the runway in a crimson lace teddy, running my final walk-through. My heart’s racing, but not just from nerves about tonight. Mack’s stationed at the side of the stage, arms crossed, eyes scanning every face in the crowd of crew and VIPs like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. After this morning’s shower—God, the way he pinned me against the tiles and talked me through every filthy inch—it’s hard to focus on anything else. But I’m Indigo Lyric. Mask on. Strut perfect.
I finish the turn, hips swaying, and drop into the final pose when a familiar voice cuts through the noise like a knife.
“Indie?”
I freeze. Viola. My little sister. Here. Unannounced.
She’s weaving through the chaos in ripped black jeans, a leather jacket slung over a band tee, dark hair choppy and streaked purple. Same defiant chin as when she was twelve and told Mom she was done with tiaras forever. She looks tired, though—shadows under her eyes, shoulders hunched like she’s carrying more than just a backpack.
I step off the stage fast, bare feet slapping the floor. “Vi? What the hell are you doing here?”
She gives me that half-smirk, the one that used to get her out of trouble. “Surprise visit. Cupid City’s got good vibes, right?” Her eyes flick past me to Mack, who’s already moving, closing the distance in three strides. He plants himself slightly in front of me—not blocking, but definitely between us. He’s so protective. And it completely undoes me.
“Who’s this?” he asks, voice low and flat. Not a question. An assessment.
“My sister. Viola.” I touch his arm, light, reassuring. “It’s okay.”
He doesn’t relax. “She on the list?”
“She’s family,” I say, sharper than I mean to. Then softer, to Vi, “How’d you even get back here?”
“Flashed my ID and said I was your plus-one emergency. Worked on the door guy.” She shrugs like it’s nothing, but her fingers twist the strap of her bag. She’s nervous. I can tell. “Can we… talk? Privately?”
Mack’s gaze flicks to me. I nod once. He steps aside but stays close enough to hear, arms still crossed, jaw tight. He doesn’t trust surprises. Not today. Probably not ever.
We move to a quiet corner behind a rack of gowns. Viola exhales, dropping the bravado. “I’m in a bind, Indie. The band’s van died outside Atlanta. Repairs are three grand. Tour’s booked, gigs are paid, but we’re tapped out. I just need a loan. I’ll pay it back. Promise.”
I study her. The same story, different city. But her eyes are pleading, not entitled. And damn it, she’s my sister.
“How much?” I ask quietly.
“Three thousand. Maybe four if the alternator’s shot too.”
Mack shifts behind me. I can feel his disapproval radiating like heat. Unannounced. No security check. Possible risk. But I can’t turn her away—not here, not now.
“I’ll wire it tonight,” I tell her. “After the show. But Vi… you can’t just show up like this. Not with everything going on.”
She nods fast. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”
I pull her into a quick hug. She smells like cigarette smoke and cheap van air freshener. “Stay for the show if you want. I’ll get you a seat. But don’t disappear again, okay?”
She squeezes me back. “Deal.”
As she walks away toward the exit, Mack steps closer, voice a low rumble in my ear. “You sure about her?”
