The clock glowed 6:30 p.m. as I slowly woke up, the room warm with golden evening light. Damian stood by the door, just out of the shower, dressed in a clean white shirt and dark gray pants.

“There you are,” he said with a smile. “Sleep well?”

I rubbed my eyes, still half-asleep. “Didn’t mean to nap that long. How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” He glanced at his watch. “You needed it.”

I caught the slight smirk on his face. He was teasing me about what happened with Malik earlier. I ignored it. “What time’s dinner?”

“7:30. We’ve got plenty of time.” He leaned against the dresser, rolling up his sleeves. “You hungry?”

“Absolutely.” I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. “I’ll hurry.”

He laughed. “No rush.”

I’d already showered after the massage, but I decided to take another one, just to be sure. I wanted to wash away every trace of oil, every lingering hint of Malik’s scent.

After drying off, I walked to the dressing table and picked out the lacy pink French knickers I’d packed specifically to match my dress.

I opened the wardrobe and slipped into the soft pink fabric, then stepped into my knee-high brown suede boots, lacing them up carefully. A touch of makeup, a few loose waves in my hair, and I was ready.

“You look incredible, honey,” Damian said, his eyes trailing over me.

“Thank you.” I grinned at my reflection, smoothing the fabric over my hips. “Wasn’t sure about the length, but I think it works.”

“Babe, you look sexy as hell.” His voice dropped, rough with appreciation. “Those boots? The way that dress hugs you? Fuck. It’s perfect.”

I turned sideways, studying myself. The dress dipped low in the front, flaring mid-thigh, playful but undeniably bold. With my cleavage on full display, I’d be turning heads all night.

“i don't normally not wear a bra babe,” I teased, grabbing my tits and adjusting them slightly. “should I out one on?”

“Definitely not!” His grin was wicked. “That arse. Those tits. Christ.”

I bit my lip, laughing. “Naughty! Maybe it’s too sexy for dinner.”

“Not a chance.” He stepped closer, fingers brushing my waist. “A sexy woman should wear a sexy dress."

A shiver ran through me. This wasn’t my usual style. I’d spent years hiding behind loose clothes, avoiding hungry stares. But tonight? The confidence felt electric. Dangerous, even.

And God help me, I actually liked it.

A sharp knock at the door made me jump.

"Who is it?" I asked, shooting Damian a look.

He just grinned. "Go answer it."

My stomach fluttered, nerves or excitement, I wasn’t sure. I smoothed my dress and opened the door.

Emma and James stood there.

"SURPRISE!" Emma shrieked, throwing her arms up. "Did you really think we’d miss the birthday girl’s big night?"

My hands flew to my mouth. "What, how? Oh my God! You’re actually here?"

"Obviously," she laughed, breezing past me. "Happy birthday, sweetie. We booked a room and we’re crashing your party."

"Are you serious?" I squealed. "This is the best present ever!"

Emma smirked. "Liar. You’re just happy to see my tits." Her eyes dropped to my cleavage. "Damn, though. Look at you."

I twirled playfully. "Birthday gift from Damian."

"Did he now?" She arched a brow, then elbowed James. "Well? Don’t just stand there, tell her how hot she looks."

James cleared his throat, his eyes glancing at my tits. "Uh, yeah. You look… great."

I giggled and kissed his cheek. "Good to see you again, James."

The last time I’d seen him, he’d been buried inside Emma, groaning as he shot his load inside her.

I turned and hugged Emma tightly. "I’m so glad you’re here."

She squeezed back. "Happy birthday, babe. Now, let’s get this party started." She strutted past me, gasping at the suite. "Holy shit, this place is unreal!"

I grinned. "Damian called in some favours."

Emma shot him a look. "I bet he did."

We moved to the kitchen, and I pulled a chilled bottle of champagne from the fridge. The cork popped, and I filled four glasses, the bubbles fizzing eagerly.

“Ooh, fancy,” Emma purred, taking hers.

Damian raised his. “To the birthday girl.”

“Cheers!” James echoed, his smile polite, but his eyes lingering on me a beat too long.

Emma clinked her glass against mine. “So,” she smirked, “how’s 24 treating you so far?”

“Exactly like 23,” I laughed, “probably with worse hangovers.”

She squeezed my arm. “God, I’m glad we came.”

“Me too.” I glanced at James. “Both of you. This was… really sweet.”

Emma winked. “Anything for you, babe.”

We drank the champagne, then settled onto the couch. For thirty minutes, we traded jokes and gossip, but I caught it. The way James’ gaze flicked to me when Damian wasn’t looking. The way Damian pretended not to notice. (Did it turn him on?)

By the time we drained the bottle, we made our way downstairs to the restaurant.

The host took us to our table. It was a private spot, cosy with candlelight. Shiny crystal glasses sat next to white plates. Tall flower arrangements with pink petals spilled over the tablecloth. In the corner, a grand piano played soft music, and you could hear the gentle sound of forks and knives.

Three courses and too many wines later, we were pleasantly wrecked. James excused himself to the restroom, and the pianist packed up, leaving a quiet hum in the air.

Then, from somewhere beyond the arched doorway, the thump of bass. A party, pulsing through the walls.

Emma’s eyes lit up. “Oh no. You hear that?”

I grinned. “I do.”

Damian leaned back, swirling his drink. “Trouble.”

The waiter whisked away our empty plates as we the music got louder and we recognised one of the songs.

“What’s going on in there?” I asked.

“Theme night,” he said. “Eighties disco. We do it monthly.”

“Oh my God, I love eighties music!” I turned to Damian, bouncing in my seat. “Can we go?”

He smirked. “Your birthday, your rules. Let me check for tickets.”

“I’ll come,” Emma said, standing. “Need a smoke anyway.”

They disappeared toward reception, leaving me with the last of my wine.

Then James returned.

“Where’s Emma?” He scanned the empty chairs.

“Gone to check on the disco next door. Thought it’d be fun.” I smiled, but my stomach fluttered when he slid into the seat beside me instead of across.

“Birthday, treating you well?” His voice was low, his dark eyes locked onto mine.

“Yeah. Especially now that you’re here.” The second I said it, I realised how it sounded.

A slow grin spread over his face. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“What? No, I……”

“Last week. That booth. Emma riding me while you watched.” He leaned in, his knee brushing mine under the table. “Don’t lie. I saw your face.”

My cheeks burned. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re blushing.” His laugh was rough. “Emma knew. She felt me staring at you instead of her. Drove her fucking wild.”

The air between us crackled. Eli. Malik. Now James. All different, all wanting the same thing. My pulse roared in my ears.

Then, his hand on my thigh, fingers skating under the hem of my skirt.

I froze.

Damian and Emma were still at reception, their backs turned. James’ gaze was molten, waiting for my response.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he breathed.

I snatched his wrist and shoved it away. “James, stop. You’re with Emma. I’m married.”

He recoiled like I’d slapped him. “Shit. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I gulped my wine, the glass trembling in my hand. “It’s fine. We’re all wasted.”

But nothing about this was fine.

Damian and Emma reappeared at the table, their expressions playful.

“Well, well,” Emma teased, sliding into her seat with a smirk. “Look at you two. Getting cosy?” Her gaze flicked to James, who had shifted to my side of the table. “What’d we miss?”

I sipped my drink, feigning innocence. “Nothing scandalous. Just waiting for you.”

Damian dropped four glossy tickets onto the table. “We’ve got passes. Let’s move.”

“Yes!” I jumped up, too fast. The room tilted slightly, champagne buzzing in my veins.

Damian’s arm hooked around my waist, steadying me. “You good?”

“Just perfect,” I laughed, leaning into him. “Tipsy enough to dance badly.”

The next room was a time warp. Neon lights streaked across a packed dance floor, the DJ spinning an upbeat eighties anthem. The bass thrummed under my feet, and the air smelled like sweat and sugary cocktails.

“I LOVE THIS SONG!” I yelled over the music, dragging Emma toward the crowd.

We threw ourselves into the rhythm, arms waving, hips swaying. Emma twirled me, her laugh ringing out as the strobe lights painted us in flashes of pink and blue.

Across the room, Damian and James shouldered through the crowd toward the bar, but not before I caught James glancing back at me.

(Or was I imagining it?)

The dance floor was packed, and middle-aged couples swayed awkwardly. Younger ones were grinding closer, but all eyes kept snagging on Emma and me.

No surprise we were drawing stares with what we were wearing. Most were harmless. Some weren’t.

A drunk guy with a ratty mullet lurched into our space, grinning like he’d won the lottery. He started dancing with us, all sweaty enthusiasm. We laughed it off, until his hand slid down Emma’s arse.

“The fuck?” Emma shoved him hard. “Hands to yourself, dickhead.”

He wobbled, chuckling. “Oh, come on. Don’t be a frigid bitch.”

“She said fuck off,” I snapped, stepping between them.

His grin turned nasty. “You’re dressed like that and expect guys not to come over? Please.” He reached for her again, then Eli materialised out of nowhere.

One massive hand fisted the guy’s shirt, yanking him close. “She told you to fuck off.”

Mullet-Boy’s bloodshot eyes traveled up, up, up Eli’s frame, and all the color drained from his face.

“Shit, sorry, mate, I didn’t……”

Eli shoved. The guy staggered back and crashed into a group of startled dancers, disappearing into the crowd.

Emma exhaled. “Jesus. Where’d you come from?”

Eli just smirked. “Good timing, huh?”

The music had died around us as everyone stopped to stare at the confrontation. Damian and James pushed through the crowd, drinks in hand.

"What happened?" Damian's eyes flicked between us and the retreating drunk.

"Just some wasted idiot who thought 'no' was negotiable," Emma said, rolling her eyes so hard I worried they'd stick. "Typical club creep."

I added, "Eli showed up just in time," shooting Damian a questioning look. Why was he here? How?

Emma's face lit up. "Ohhh, so this is the legendary Eli?" She looked him up and down appreciatively. "Damn, they weren't kidding about you being built like a brick shithouse."

Eli chuckled awkwardly as Emma dramatically extended her hand. When he went to shake it, she yanked him into a hug instead. "Oh, please, we're way past handshakes. I've heard too much about you for formalities."

Damian stepped forward to shake Eli's hand. "Good timing, mate."

"This is James," Emma said, then added with a smirk, "my... special friend." I nearly choked - we all knew what she meant.

"Happy birthday, Jane," Eli said, suddenly pulling me into a hug. His muscular arms enveloped me completely, and I caught a whiff of his aftershave, something woodsy and expensive. It was surprisingly... nice.

"You didn't tell me you were coming," I said, pulling away to look at Damian.

"Hope that's okay," Eli rubbed his neck. "Damian mentioned the party when I was driving back from Manchester. Thought I'd stop by for one drink."

"Of course it's okay," I said, maybe too quickly.

As Damian led Eli to the bar, Emma grabbed my arm. "You invited him?" she hissed, eyes sparkling.

"I had no idea!" My face felt warm.

"Oh, please," she smirked. "That hug lasted a full three seconds longer than necessary."

"It did not!" I swatted her arm as we collapsed into chairs.

James looked between us. "What are you two….."

"Nothing!" we said in unison, bursting into giggles that had absolutely nothing to do with the drink.

Damian and Eli returned, sliding fresh drinks across the table. I picked up the gin and tonic, probably a terrible idea, and sighed.

“I don’t think I can drink another drop.”

Emma grabbed my wrist, hauling me up. “Bullshit. Dancing is the best cure.”

She dragged me back onto the floor, the bass thumping through my veins, bodies pressed around us, warm and swaying.

“You good?” Emma shouted over the music, her hips rolling to the beat.

“Yeah. Just… didn’t see Eli coming tonight.”

She smirked. “Oh, I bet he’d like to hear you say that.”

“Emma!” I swatted her arm, but she just laughed, her gaze flicking toward the table.

I followed her look. Eli was watching us.

And then, he was coming.

He moved through the crowd with that easy confidence, all broad shoulders and quiet intensity. When he reached us, his voice was low but clear.

“Mind if I join you?”

Emma grinned. “It’s a free country. Dance your heart out, big guy.”

His eyes locked onto mine as the music swelled. And suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about how much I’d drunk anymore.

Eli moved between us, his grin lazy and satisfied, like a man who’d just won the lottery. And maybe he had. With Emma swaying in front of him and me pressed close beside them, he had every reason to look smug.

His eyes kept dropping, lingering on the dip of Emma’s back, the way my dress clung to my hips. I should’ve minded, but I didn’t.

The DJ switched to another cheesy eighties anthem, but the music barely registered. Not when Eli’s hands settled on Emma’s waist, pulling her back against him in one smooth motion. His hips rolled forward, subtle but deliberate, and Emma arched into him with a breathy laugh.

No one else would notice. Not in this crowd, not with the strobe lights fracturing the room into glimpses, a flash of Emma’s fingers trailing up Eli’s arm, the way his grip tightened when she ground against him.

My skin prickled. I glanced toward our table and watched Damian and James, deep in conversation with some woman, her fingers toying with her cocktail straw as she laughed at something James said. A sharp twist coiled in my stomach. Was it jealousy?

Before I could dwell, Emma crooked a finger at me.

I stepped closer.

She yanked me in until our bodies nearly touched, her lips brushing my ear. “Stop staring at them,” she murmured, her breath hot. “We’re having all the fun.”

Her hand slid down my back possessively.

And Eli, Eli was watching us both.

“Jesus, you weren’t exaggerating about his package,” Emma murmured against my ear, her hips rolling against Eli’s thigh with deliberate slowness.

I choked on a laugh, heat flooding my cheeks. “Emma!”

She leaned in again, her breath hot on my skin. “Remember that club last month? When we got so drunk, we ended up making out?”

“Vaguely,” I lied. (I remembered every second.)

Her grin turned wicked. “Let’s give Eli a proper show. I want to see if the rest of him lives up to… that.” she was obviously referring to what was in his pants.

“You’re terrible,” I hissed, but she’d already grabbed my hands, pulling me flush against her.

The music pulsed around us as we moved together, close, too close. Emma’s arms slid around my neck, her lips brushing my earlobe. “Just like last time…”

Then, without warning, she kissed me.

It wasn’t some playful peck. Her mouth was warm and insistent, tongue teasing mine as her fingers tangled in my hair. I gasped and felt Eli’s gaze like a physical touch.

When I dared to glance at him, his expression was priceless: lips parted, chest rising fast, his knuckles white around his drink.

Emma nipped my lower lip, smirking. “Told you he’d like it.”

Emma’s lips left mine with a slick pop. “Fuck, babe,” she breathed against my mouth, “he’s huge.”

I stifled a laugh. “Told you.”

Her eyes glittered with mischief. “Swap places with me.”

“No, wait, I—”

But she was already spinning us, her hands firm on my hips. Suddenly, my back was flush against Eli’s chest, and oh God, I could feel him. The thick ridge of his semi-hard cock pressed into the curve of my arse, hot even through his trousers.

My breath hitched. Emma smirked.

Then she was kissing me again, deep and filthy, her tongue sliding against mine. Eli’s hands settled on my waist, his rough palms skimming higher, fingertips brushing the bare skin between my dress and boots. Goosebumps exploded across my body.

Emma pulled back just enough to whisper, “See? Told you you’d like it.”

I hated that she was right.

My hips moved on their own, a slow, sinful roll against Eli’s growing hardness. Emma grabbed my hands and planted them on her arse, urging me to squeeze. I dug my nails in, earning a sharp gasp from her mouth.

Then I saw them.

A crowd had formed around us, leering, whistling. And at the edge of it, Damian and James.

I jerked away like I’d been burned. Eli’s hands fell instantly, but the damage was done.

Damian’s expression was unreadable.

"You okay, babe?" Damian’s voice was low, amused. His fingers brushed the small of my back, sending a shiver down me.

I swallowed. "Yeah. Just… hot."

His smirk deepened. "They called last orders."

"Already?" Emma groaned. "We barely got here!"

Damian shrugged, already stepping away. "I’ll grab us a final round before they cut us off."

Emma hooked James’ arm. "Smoke break. Don’t do anything stupid." Her wink was deliberate as she dragged him outside.

Then it was just me and Eli, alone on the dance floor.

The DJ’s voice crackled over the speakers: "Five minutes, folks. Last song."

The opening chords of Total Eclipse of the Heart swelled, slow, aching, and very dangerous.

Eli’s hand found mine before I could speak. "Dance with me."

He pulled me against him, his arms locking around my waist.

I should be dancing with Damian, but the alcohol blurred the edges, made my thoughts slippery. Eli’s thumb stroked the dip of my spine, and my breath hitched.

The crowd pressed in around us, bodies swaying. Eli’s hands slid lower, gripping my hips, guiding me into the rhythm of him.

I looked up and his gaze was dark, hungry, exactly like that night in the front room. That almost kiss.

My pulse roared in my ears. Over his shoulder, through the throng of dancers, I could just make out Damian, still at the bar, still waiting.

Then Eli leaned dow, and I let him.

His mouth crashed into mine. His tongue swept in, claiming and devouring me. I gasped into the kiss, my hands fisting his shirt.

His grip tightened, one hand sliding down to grip my arse, pulling me flush against him. I could feel him, all of him, hard and insistent. A whimper escaped me as his fingers dug in.

Wetness pooled between my thighs. Shame and desire twisted together.

His other hand pushed under my dress, palming my bare skin. "Fuck," he growled against my lips.

Then, he tore away, breathing ragged. "I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself."

But his hands still held me, and I wasn’t pulling back.

"I, I’ve got to go."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Eli’s hands slipped from my hips, and I was already moving, weaving through the crowd like I was being chased. The bass still pulsed in my chest, but all I could feel was the ghost of his lips on mine. It was hot, possessive, and wrong.

I nearly collided with Emma and James near the elevators.

"You okay?" Emma studied me, her smile fading.

"Just calling it a night." My voice sounded too high, and too tight.

She arched a brow. "Sure, it’s just tiredness?"

"Positive." The lie burned.

She kissed my cheek, her grip firm on my arm. "Happy birthday, babe."

The elevator ride up was a blur. Inside the bathroom, I gripped the sink, staring at my reflection, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and guilty eyes.

What the fuck was that?

Had he planned it? Or was it just the alcohol, the music, the way my body had melted into his like it belonged there?

And why hadn’t I stopped him?

I gulped water, but it didn’t cool the heat pooling low in my stomach. On the bed, I lay stiffly, the ceiling spinning slightly.

My traitorous mind replayed every second, his rough hands gripping my arse. The way his tongue had claimed my mouth. How small I’d felt against him.

A shiver ran through me. I was wet, aching, and furious with myself.

Then, the door clicked open.

Damian appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, babe, you okay?" Damian’s voice was warm as he leaned over me, his fingers brushing my cheek. "I got you that drink, but you vanished."

I forced a smile. "Just needed a minute. Too much alcohol."

"Yeah, no shit." He chuckled, lying beside me and draping an arm over my waist. "Better now?"

"Mmm." I didn’t trust myself with words. Instead, I grabbed his shirt and kissed him hard, pouring every tangled emotion into it: guilt, desire, frustration.

He broke away, grinning. "Well. That escalated."

My hand slid down, palming him through his jeans. He groaned as his hips lifted instinctively.

"I need you to fuck me," I breathed against his lips.

"Thought you were tired?"

"Not even close." I yanked his belt free, tossing it aside, then shoved his jeans and boxers down in one rough motion. His cock sprang into my hand, already hard. "God, I love how you feel."

"Fuck!!!" His head fell back as I stroked him, his breath ragged.

I climbed over him, kissing him hungrily. "Please. Right now."

Then, a clink of glass from the kitchen.

I froze. "What was that?"

Damian nipped at my lower lip. "Just Eli."

"Eli?!" I jerked back. "Why the hell is he here?"

"Taxi’s twenty minutes out. Told him to wait up here." He dragged me down for another kiss, but I stiffened.

"Damian!" I hissed. "I was about to ride you. He could’ve heard us!"

"Would that be so bad?" His voice dropped, eyes dark. "Considering you just had your tongue down his throat?"

My stomach lurched. "You, you saw that?"

"Every second." He smirked, tugging his boxers back up. "And before you panic, it was hot."

I stared at him. "Wait… you’re not mad?"

"Mad?" He laughed, gripping my chin. "Watching you kiss him, knowing Malik made you cum earlier? Fuck, Jane. I’ve never been harder."

His thumb brushed my bottom lip, and my breath hitched.

"Now," he murmured, pulling me up, "let’s go see our guest."

Damian kissed me once more, his lips lingering before he pulled away. “We should check on Eli,” he murmured, his voice rough.

My pulse hammered as we stepped into the lounge. The air felt thick, my head spinning, the champagne or the heat still coiled low in my stomach, I wasn’t sure. Why was I following him?

Eli wasn’t there. Then I heard the bathroom door lock.

I leaned back against the kitchen counter, gripping the cool marble as Damian retrieved a bottle of cava and three glasses. The pop of the cork made me jump.

“Here.” Damian handed me a flute.

I took a sip just as the bathroom door creaked open and I saw Eli.

Our eyes met across the room. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

“Happy birthday, Jane,” he said, accepting the glass Damian offered.

“Thanks.” My voice came out softly. I couldn’t hold his gaze, focusing instead on the bubbles fizzing in my drink.

The silence stretched, taut as a wire.

Then Damian cleared his throat. “Be right back.”

The moment the bathroom door shut, the room seemed to shrink. Eli took a step closer. Then another.

“You okay?” His voice was low, rough around the edges.

“Fine.” I gulped more champagne, avoiding his eyes.

He didn’t buy it. Calloused fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “Jane.”

My breath hitched.

“It’s okay,” he said, thumb brushing my jaw. “You don’t have to—”

“We shouldn’t have.” The words tumbled out. “Damian, he’s—”

Eli’s grip tightened, just for a second. “I know.”

The words died in my throat as Eli’s mouth crashed into mine.

I should have pushed him away, but I didn't.

His tongue slid against my lips, and with a soft moan, I let him in. His hands gripped my arse, hauling me flush against him as I clawed at the hard planes of his back, my body betraying me with every hungry kiss.

Then, the creak of the bathroom door.

I tore myself free, gasping. Damian stood there, watching us with dark amusement.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe.

My cheeks burned, but the guilt I expected never came. Not after Malik. Not after all, Damian’s not-so-subtle hints.

This was what he wanted, and God help me, maybe what I did, too.

Eli’s breath was still hot on my neck. Waiting.

Damian’s grin widened. “Well?”

Eli’s lips found mine again, and this time, I didn’t hold back. His hands gripped my arse, pulling me hard against him as I explored the ridges of his back, his shoulders, every inch of him. Our tongues tangled, hot and desperate, and then suddenly I was weightless as he lifted me onto the kitchen counter.

My legs fell open on instinct, and he stepped between them, his body caging me in. When his mouth trailed down my neck, I gasped, my eyes flitting to Damian, and he was grinning.

Eli tugged the straps of my dress down, exposing my breasts to the cool air. “Oh God!!!”

His hand closed over one, kneading roughly before his mouth followed, his tongue circling my nipple before sucking it deep. A sharp bite made me cry out, my fingers digging into his head.

“Fuck, yes!!!” I arched into him, my head falling back as he switched to the other, teasing it to the same aching hardness. The throbbing between my legs was unbearable now, every pull of his mouth sending shocks straight to my core.

Somewhere in the haze, I heard my ragged breaths, the wet sounds of his mouth on my skin, and Damian’s heavy breathing.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Finally letting go.”

Eli’s mouth claimed mine again, harder this time, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thigh. I gasped as his hand slid higher, pushing the hem of my dress up with deliberate slowness. The air against my exposed skin made me shiver, or maybe it was the way his calloused fingertips traced the lace edge of my panties.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled against my lips, his eyes locked onto mine.

I didn’t.

Instead, I kissed him deeper, my nails scraping down his back. Permission. Pleading. He didn’t need more.

His thumb hooked into the waistband of my panties, pausing just long enough for me to lift my hips, a silent, shaky surrender. The fabric slid down, and his groan vibrated through me as he tossed my panties aside.

He removed his shirt before I heard the clink of his belt, the rustle of fabric, and then, heat. The thick ridge of him pressed against me, separated only by the damp cotton of his boxers. My legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer, my body moving on instinct, grinding down with a desperation that should have embarrassed me.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, teeth grazing my earlobe, “since I watched Damina fuck you through the window.”

The memory flashed, Damian’s hands on me, the blinds open, Eli watching outside.

My breath hitched. No words came. My mind had gone quiet, drowned out by the pulse between my thighs.

Eli dropped to his knees, his hands sliding up my thighs, pushing my dress to my waist. The air hit my bare skin, making me shiver, but not from cold.

"Fuck yes," he growled, his voice rough with hunger, his breath scorching against my skin. "Shaved and already dripping for me. Just how I fucking love it."

His dirty words sent a rush of desire straight to my core, my pussy clenching around nothing, aching to be filled. I barely had time to whimper before his mouth crashed against me, his tongue was thick and relentless, and it dragged through my soaked folds in one long, obscene stroke. A ragged cry tore from my throat as pleasure crackled through me like lightning.

"OH FUCK!" My fingers grabbed his head, nails scraping his scalp as I ground myself against his face, demanding more. His tongue was wicked, flicking and circling my clit with torturous precision before plunging lower, teasing my entrance, tasting me like I was his last meal.

I forced my eyes open, my vision hazy with lust, just to watch him. My filthy, old neighbour, his beard scraping my thighs as he feasted on me like a man possessed. The sight alone made me throb, my hips rolling shamelessly against his mouth, desperate for every sinful lick, every greedy suck.

"That’s it," he growled against my dripping flesh, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Fucking perfect." Then his lips sealed around my clit, sucking hard and my entire body jerked, a scream ripping from my lungs as pleasure detonated through me.

"DON’T STOP! RIGHT THERE! FUCK, RIGHT THERE!" I was unraveling, my thighs shaking, my back arching off the counter as his tongue lashed at me, relentless. His hands gripped my arse, fingers digging in as he yanked me closer, his mouth working me faster, deeper, until I was nothing but a writhing, gasping mess.

The pressure coiled tighter, unbearable, my moans turning desperate, broken. "I’m gonna, oh God, I’m gonna—" The orgasm hit like a tsunami, crashing over me, dragging me under as I came hard on his tongue, my entire body convulsing, my cries echoing through the room.

"OH GOD!!! FUCK!!!! FUCK!! FUUUUUUCCKKKK!!!!!" I screamed, waves of pleasure crashing through me. He didn’t let up, licking me through it, dragging out every last shudder until I was gasping, oversensitive, and trembling, my legs giving out as he finally pulled back with a dark, satisfied smirk.

"Good girl," he murmured, licking his lips. “Now let’s see how many more I can wring out of you."

Eli stood, peeling his boxers down in one slow motion. His cock sprang free, thick, veined, already glistening at the tip. My breath hitched. Fuck. Seeing it in person was different. He was huge!

"Jesus," I choked out.

"Nah, just Eli," he smirked, stroking himself lazily. "But you’re about to start praying."

He stepped forward, dragging the swollen head through my soaked folds, teasing my clit with every pass. My hips jerked.

"Look at it," he ordered.

I did. His cock was obscene, his light brown circumcised head, leaking, twitching against my pussy like it knew where it belonged. When I glanced up, his dark eyes pinned me.

"Tell me you want it."

My teeth sank into my lip. Over Eli’s shoulder, Damian watched, fist pumping his hard length.

Eili pressed harder, his massive body caging me in, the heat of him searing against my skin. His voice was a dark, commanding growl, vibrating through me. "Last chance, Jane. Tell me what you want."

A desperate whimper tore from my throat, my hips writhing uselessly against the air, craving the invasion I knew was coming. "P-Put it in!" My voice was a breathless plea, barely audible over the pounding of my pulse.

"Put what in?" He teased, dragging the thick, swollen head of his cock through my drenched folds, circling my entrance with agonising slowness. The sensation was maddening, just the barest hint of pressure, the promise of what was to come, but not enough, never enough.

"Your cock!" I gasped, my nails biting into his shoulders. "Your big, fucking, ah! Your black cock! Please, please, I need it!"

"Good girl." The words rumbled from his chest, dark and approving. He spat into his palm, the sound obscenely wet, before slicking himself with a slow, deliberate stroke. My pussy clenched around nothing, aching, begging to be filled as he notched himself against my entrance. "Now take it like one."

My eyes flicked to Damian, my husband, searching for any sign of protest. But the look on his face wasn’t disapproval. It was hunger. A groan ripped from his throat, his hand stroking his cock as he watched. That was all the permission I needed.

Then Eili pushed in.

Oh God.

The stretch was unreal. A thick, relentless pressure that burned most exquisitely. My body fought to accommodate him, my slick walls fluttering wildly around the invading girth as the swollen head of his cock forced its way inside. I gasped, my back arching off the counter, my fingers scrambling for purchase on his sweat-slicked skin.

"Oh Fuck!" The word tore from me, ragged and broken, as another inch of him sank deeper. My pussy stretched obscenely around him, stealing my breath. It was too much, and yet I craved more, my hips rolling instinctively, trying to take him deeper.

"Look at you," Eili growled, his voice rough with lust. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider, forcing me to take every brutal inch. "Finally getting what you’ve been begging for. Finally taking a real cock."

I glanced down between us, my vision hazy with need. The sight was filthy, my pussy lips stretched taut around his thick, dark shaft, glistening with my arousal, my body struggling to adjust to his impossible size. A choked whimper escaped me, my walls clenching around him in helpless, overwhelming pleasure.

"More," I begged, my voice shaking. "Please, I need it!"

Eili’s grin was feral. He obeyed, rolling his hips, burying more of that monster inside me. Every nerve lit up, I could feel every vein, every twitch as he claimed me.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Fucking take it, every inch.”

My entire body quaked as he filled me, inch by torturously perfect inch, my pussy stretching obscenely around his monstrous girth. I could feel every throbbing vein, every ridge of his cock as it speared deeper, my slick walls fluttering around him in helpless, greedy spasms.

"Oh God… oh fuck… It’s too much!" I whimpered, but my hips arched shamelessly, begging for more.

Then, with one sharp, brutal thrust, he was fully inside, his hips grinding against mine, his cock so deep I swore I could feel him in my soul. My vision whited out for a second, a scream tearing from my throat as my body split open around him, stretched to the limit, so full I could barely think.

"FUCK! SHIT! ELI!!!"

His growl was primal, possessive, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. "Jesus Christ, Jane… your fucking pussy…" His voice was rough with lust, his muscles trembling as he fought to stay still, letting me adjust. "So goddamn tight… like you’re fucking milking me already."

I could feel it, the way my body clenched around him, pulsing, squeezing, as if my pussy was addicted to the sheer size of him. Every slight shift sent electric shocks of pleasure through me, my clit throbbing, my nipples hard and aching.

Then he moved.

"OH MY GOD!"

His thrusts were relentless, punishing, each one driving his cock so deep I saw stars. The slap of his balls against my arse was obscenely loud, the wet, filthy sounds of my dripping pussy only spurring him on. I was drenched, my arousal coating his length, making every glide smoother, deeper, until I swore he was touching places inside me I didn’t even know existed.

"You feel that?" he snarled, his fingers tangling in my hair, yanking my head back. "Feel how deep I am? How does it feel?"

"YES!" I sobbed, my nails clawing at his back, my legs shaking violently. "Fuck, Eli, it’s so good!"

His pace turned feral, his cock thrusting into me with a force that stole my breath, sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through my core. My screams were constant now, my voice breaking as pleasure detonated inside me, wave after wave of unbearable ecstasy.

"Tell me," he demanded, his hand wrapping around my throat, his thumb pressing just enough to make my pulse race. "Whose fucking pussy is this?"

"YOURS!" I wailed, my body convulsing around him, as my orgasm was building rapidly. "Only yours! Oh GOD!"

His smirk was dark, triumphant, as he leaned down to lick a stripe up my throat. "Damn right."

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he pounded me harder. "Knew you wanted this the second you saw my cock. Your pussy was made for this."

I couldn’t even form words anymore, just broken moans as my orgasm coiled tighter, ready to snap.

Then he yanked my legs up, spreading me wider. The angle was too much, as i felt his cock grinding against every sensitive spot inside me.

"Oh God, fuck, yeah that feels so good!" I groaned, my back arching off the counter.

Eli didn’t slow down, his breath ragged. "Yeah? You like that, huh?"

I looked over at Damian who was stroking himself, eyes glued to us, glued to his wife being fucked senseless by huge black cock.

The knot in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter.

"OH FUCK, ELI!" My voice broke into a scream as he drilled into me, harder, faster, his balls slapping against my arse. "PLEASE, DON’T STOP! FUCK ME HARDER!"

He growled, pulling my head forward, forcing me to look down at where my dripping pussy stretched around his thick shaft. "Look at yourself. Taking this cock like a whore."

"SHIT, FUCK! OHHH GOD!!"

Then, he stopped, his hands dug into my thighs, lifting me off the counter, his cock still buried to the hilt.

"You don't cum until I say you can," he smirked, dropping into a chair, my legs locked around his waist.

I didn't hesitate and started bouncing wildly on his thick black shaft. My huge tits jiggled with every desperate thrust, my dress bunched up around my waist like some cheap slut’s.

"Look at you," Eli snarled, his hands digging into my hips, guiding me. "Fucking yourself on my dick like a goddamn animal. You love this, don’t you, Jane?"

"YES! Fuck, YES!" I wailed, slamming down onto him, my slick pussy stretched to the limit around his massive cock. "It’s so big! Oh God, I can feel every inch! Damian, fuck, it feels so good!"

My husband’s dark eyes burned into me from across the room, his fist stroking his cock as he watched me lose myself, and watched me beg for another man’s cum like a shameless whore.

Eli leaned forward, sucking one of my nipples into his hot mouth, biting down just enough to make me shriek. "You wanna cum again, don’t you?" he growled against my skin. "But you’ll wait and I'll join you."

I whimpered, grinding down harder, my thighs trembling. "Please, Eli, please! I need it so bad!"

He smirked, slapping my arse so hard it stung. "Then ride it, slut. Show me how much you need this black cock."

I obeyed, fucking him with reckless abandon, my moans turning into broken screams as pleasure coiled tighter, hotter, until I couldn’t hold back anymore. "FUCK! I’m, I’m gonna, AHHHH!"

"Cum," he commanded, his grip bruising. "Cum all over my cock like the desperate little wife you are. You want my black seed? Beg for it. Beg me to breed this tight white pussy."

"YES! GOD, FUCKING YES!" I sobbed, my cunt gushing around him. "Fill me up, please, Eli, cum inside me!"

His hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulsed violently inside me. "FUCK! OH FUCK, YEAH!" he roared, his voice raw with pleasure as the first scalding jet of cum erupted deep in my womb.

The second his release hit, my orgasm detonated, a screaming, blinding explosion of pleasure that shattered me. "OH MY GOD!! OH FUCK, I'M CUMMING!" My back arched wildly, my pussy clenching and milking his cock in frantic, greedy spasms. "FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUCK!!! IT'S TOO MUCH!"

Eli groaned like a beast, as he pumped me full, his cum flooding me in thick, endless waves. "That’s it, take every fucking drop," he panted, delivering a sharp slap to my arse.

I collapsed, trembling, my body limp and utterly spent, until Damian’s fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back, his cock already pressing against my lips.

I barely had time to gasp before he shoved himself into my mouth, his hips jerking as he came with a guttural groan. "Ah, yeah!"

I choked, my throat working instinctively as he emptied himself, his release hot and heavy on my tongue, as Eli kept lazily thrusting into me, squeezing out the last pulses of his cum.

I swallowed his cum and then collapsed forward, my arms shaking, my thighs slick with sweat and arousal. My pussy throbbed.

I peeled myself off Eli’s lap, my legs shaking, his thick cum already spilling down my thighs and the corners of my mouth. My pussy ached, well-used, stretched, ruined, and as I collapsed onto the sofa, I could still feel him inside me, the ghost of his cock twitching deep where he’d filled me.

Eli stood, slow and satisfied, his dark skin gleaming under the dim light. My eyes locked onto his cock, still glistening with my arousal, proof of what we’d done. What I’d let him do. He tucked himself away with a smirk, and the sight sent a fresh pulse of heat between my legs.

"Happy birthday, Jane," he rumbled, voice thick with amusement, before disappearing down the corridor and into the spare room.

I exhaled, my body humming, my skin still tingling where his calloused hands had gripped me. Damian’s voice cut through the quiet, rough with desire. "Fuck… that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen."

How do I feel?

My pulse raced. My lips were swollen from biting back moans. My thighs trembled. "I don’t know," I whispered, because the truth was too dangerous.

"Fuck..." I gasped, my legs trembling as I stumbled toward the shower, my skin still tingling from Eli’s rough, possessive touch. The hot water hit me like a slap, but no matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t erase the feeling of him, his calloused hands gripping my hips, his thick cock stretching me open, the filthy, degrading words he growled in my ear while my husband watched.

My stomach twisted with guilt, but beneath it, something darker pulsed—a sick, shameful hunger. My fingers dug into the shower wall as my thighs squeezed together, still aching, still dripping. "Oh God..." I whimpered, biting my lip. His cum was inside me. Inside me. And the worst part? A desperate, trembling part of me loved it.

I should have been horrified. I was horrified. But my body didn’t care. My pussy clenched around nothing, already craving him again, craving the way he’d ruined me. He was so rough, so raw, so different from anything I’d ever known.

"What have I done...?" I whispered, but even as the words left my lips, my fingers slid between my legs, stroking my swollen clit, reliving every filthy second.

I was a wreck, a mess. And God help me… I already wanted more.

When I crawled into bed, Damian pulled me close, his arms warm around me. "Are you okay?" he murmured against my neck.

I swallowed hard. "Yeah," I lied. "Just tired."

But as he held me, his breath steady against my skin, the truth pulsed through me like a second heartbeat—I’d loved it. I now knew what those girls felt when I watched the videos. I was now on that list. Every filthy thrust. Every degrading whisper. The way Eli had looked at me like I was his. 

And that was the worst part.

Because even now, dripping with guilt, I knew I’d do it again. I knew Eli was in the spare room. I lay there, resisting temptation of being fucked senseless again.

Well, until the next morning.