(**Highly mature content**)
His laugh was dark, his hands ripping her panties, his fingers teasing her, finding her wet, sliding inside, curling, making her cry out softly, her hips rocking. "You're dripping," he growled, his lips at her ear, his breath ragged. "Gonna f*ck you so good, Eva. You ready for me?"
She moaned, her hands freeing him, stroking him, guiding him to her entrance, her voice raw. "Now," she purred, sinking onto him, taking him deep, her moan muffled against his shoulder, her body shuddering at the fullness. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her, her rhythm slow, torturous, each movement a tease, her breasts bouncing against the leather, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"F*ck, you're perfect," he growled, his lips capturing her nipple through the dress, sucking, biting, making her cry out. "Ride me harder, baby. Let me feel you."
She obeyed, her pace quickening, her hips slamming down, the booth creaking, their sounds a secret symphony—her moans, his groans, the slap of skin. His fingers found her clit, circling, driving her higher, her climax building, her voice a desperate plea. "Victor," she gasped, her body trembling, her walls tightening. "I'm gonna come."
"Do it," he growled, his thrusts meeting hers, his lips at her ear, his breath ragged. "Come for me, Eva. Let me feel you."
Her climax hit, her moan stifled against his neck, her body shaking, her walls clenching, milking him. Victor followed, his groan raw, spilling inside her, his body shuddering, their breaths mingling, their bodies tangled in the booth, slick with sweat.
They stayed there, Eva's dress bunched, Victor's shirt open, their hands still roaming, their connection a lifeline. "I love you," she whispered, her voice raw, her eyes glistening.
"I love you," he said, his voice rough, his hand brushing her cheek. "But I need all of you, Eva."
Her phone buzzed, Damian's warning: *"Sophia's at Eclipse. Knife on thigh. She's lost it."* Her heart sank, the confrontation.
###
The city's veins pulsed with secrets, its neon-lit arteries a maze of shadows and vice, a perfect arena for Sophia Reed's unraveling. In her house, a sleek citadel of glass and steel perched above the skyline, Sophia stood before a towering mirror, her crimson silk robe slipping to reveal the curve of her collarbone, her blonde hair a wild torrent, her blue eyes blazing with paranoia and hunger. At 28, she was a vision of chaotic allure—her lips parted, her skin flushed with a feverish glow, her body a weapon sharpened by obsession. Once a dazzling socialite, Sophia's world had shattered under the weight of betrayal—her former friend's rise, her lost affair with Liam Blackwood, and now, a gnawing doubt about Damian Holt, her private investigator and lover. His intervention in her recent rooftop clash had saved her from jail but planted a seed of suspicion. Was he sabotaging her, leaking her plans to her enemies? Had he turned against her, just as others had?
Sophia's obsession had curdled into paranoia, her mind a tempest of fractured trust and a relentless need to dominate. Damian's warnings to abandon her violent vendetta felt like betrayal, and his absence since their last fight—*"You're lost, Soph"*—left her spiraling. She needed control, answers, and a way to reassert her power. To that end, she'd hired two new operatives: Nathan Cole, a seasoned private detective with a knack for unearthing buried truths, and Julian Drake, a hacker whose digital wizardry could dismantle any firewall. Tonight, in her house, Sophia would bind them to her cause, not just with cash but with her body, her words, her fire, in a threesome that would cement their loyalty and fuel her crusade. The pretext was a mission to expose Damian's secrets, but the real game was seduction, a dance of desire and manipulation to ensure Nathan and Julian were hers, utterly and irrevocably.
### Shattered Trust and Burning Bonds
The house was a temple of decadence, its sprawling living space bathed in the electric glow of the city's lights streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, the air thick with Sophia's perfume—sandalwood and clove—and the sharp bite of bourbon. A black velvet sectional dominated the room, its cushions strewn with satin pillows, a smoked-glass coffee table cluttered with dossiers on Damian, and a bar cart glinting with crystal decanters and half-empty bottles. Sophia paced, her crimson robe slipping further, revealing the edge of a black lace bra, her matching panties a whisper of fabric, her bare feet silent on the polished ebony floor. Her heart thundered, not just with doubt but with anticipation—Nathan and Julian were due any moment, and she'd orchestrated this night to ensnare them, to drown her paranoia in their surrender, to forge a pact sealed in sweat and secrets.
Nathan Cole arrived first, his presence a surge of raw intensity. At 40, he was a hard-bitten detective, his dark hair peppered with silver, his jaw shadowed with two-day stubble, his brown eyes sharp with a world-weary edge honed by years of peeling back lies. His leather jacket hung open over a gray t-shirt, his black jeans fitted to his lean, muscular frame, a faint scar slashing across his left cheek, a testament to battles fought and won. He leaned against the doorframe, his posture deceptively casual, his smile a slow, dangerous smolder. "Ms. Reed," he said, his voice a gravelly rumble, "you've got a job that needs my kind of dirty work?"
Sophia's lips curved, a predatory grin, as she glided toward him, her robe slipping to reveal the swell of her breast, her hips swaying with calculated grace, her eyes locked on his. "Nathan," she purred, her voice low, molten, stopping inches from him, her perfume wrapping around him like a noose. "I need your grit, your instincts. Someone's betraying me, and I want their soul laid bare."
Nathan's eyes roamed her, lingering on the lace peeking from her robe, the flush of her skin, desire flickering but his control ironclad. "Your PI," he said, stepping closer, his chest grazing hers, his breath warm, carrying a hint of bourbon. "Damian Holt. You think he's selling you out?"
Her hand slid to his chest, her fingers splaying over his t-shirt, feeling the hard ridges of muscle, the steady thud of his heart, her nails grazing his skin through the fabric, a slow, deliberate tease. "I feel it," she said, her voice raw, her lips hovering over his, her eyes blazing. "He's holding back, protecting someone. I need proof, Nathan. Dig it up, and I'll make you scream for me."
Before Nathan could respond, Julian Drake arrived, his presence a spark of chaotic energy, a counterpoint to Nathan's rugged calm. At 27, he was a hacker prodigy, his dark blonde hair tousled, his green eyes glinting with reckless brilliance, his lean frame clad in a black hoodie and ripped jeans, a silver chain around his neck catching the light. He carried a laptop bag, his posture cocky, his smile a sly challenge as he took in Sophia and Nathan, his gaze lingering on her barely concealed curves. "Hope I'm not crashing the party," he said, his voice a smooth drawl, dropping his bag, leaning against the bar cart, his fingers brushing a decanter. "What's the play, Sophia?"
Sophia's pulse surged, her body electrified by their dynamic—Nathan's weathered intensity, Julian's defiant charm. She crossed to Julian, her robe falling open, revealing her lace-clad curves, her movements a deliberate provocation. "You're right where you belong," she said, her voice husky, her hand brushing his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin, her eyes flicking between them, a queen commanding her court. "Julian, I need your fingers in the digital dark. Hack Damian's accounts, his messages, his soul. I want him cracked open."
Julian's eyes darkened, desire flaring, his hand catching hers, holding it against his arm, a bold countermove. "You want me to gut him online?" he said, stepping closer, his breath warm, his hoodie brushing her skin. "I can do that, Sophia. But what's the real prize here?"
Sophia's laugh was low, throaty, a sound that vibrated through the house, her hand sliding to Julian's neck, her thumb brushing his pulse, feeling it race. "Power," she purred, her lips inches from his, her eyes darting to Nathan, who watched, his jaw tight, his arousal evident through his jeans. "You two, with me, tonight. Prove you're mine, and I'll give you more than you can handle."