"You're so f*cking tight," Nathan growled, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her, his thrusts meeting hers, the sectional creaking, their sounds a primal symphony—Sophia's moans, Nathan's groans, Julian's whispers. "Ride me harder, Sophia. Let me feel you."
Julian's fingers were relentless, his lips at Sophia's ear, his voice a sultry tease. "Come for us," he purred, his fingers circling, his lips brushing her jaw, his breath hot. "We're yours, Sophia. Show us."
Sophia's third climax hit, her scream echoing, her body shaking, her walls clenching around Nathan, milking him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails drawing blood. Nathan followed, his groan raw, spilling inside her, his body shuddering, Julian's fingers drawing out Sophia's pleasure, her moans a crescendo. Julian's hand worked himself, his climax hitting, spilling onto Sophia's thigh, his groan raw, their bodies collapsing, breathless, tangled, marked.
The house was silent, the city's lights a distant glow, their bodies slick with sweat, Sophia's lace discarded, Nathan's jeans strewn, Julian's boxers ripped. Sophia lay between them, her hands trailing their skin, her voice low, sated but sharp. "You're mine now," she said, her eyes glinting, her smile wicked. "Find Damian's secrets. Prove you're worth this."
Nathan's hand brushed her hair, his voice rough. "You're a f*cking inferno," he said, his eyes searching hers. "We'll get your answers, Sophia. But don't think you control us."
Julian laughed, his hand resting on Sophia's thigh, his voice a tease. "You're a wild ride," he said, his eyes gleaming. "But we're not your dogs. We're partners."
Sophia's smile sharpened, her mind already shifting to the next move. Damian's betrayal, if confirmed, would be her weapon, her war against her enemies a fire that burned brighter with Nathan and Julian's loyalty. The house held their secrets, the sectional a testament to their collision, its velvet marked, satin pillows tangled, a silent witness to their pact.
Sophia stood, slipping into her robe, her body still humming, her eyes on the city's skyline, her paranoia a shadow, her desire a flame. Nathan and Julian would dig, hack, and expose Damian's truth, and she'd wield it to reclaim her dominance, her obsession a chain she'd never break. The night was a triumph, but the war was far from over, and Sophia Reed would scorch the earth to win.
###
The Blackwood Enterprises tower loomed over the city, its glass façade reflecting a storm-ravaged twilight, a mirror to the chaos threatening to engulf its players. In her corner office, Isabelle Voss stood before a floor-to-ceiling window, her emerald silk blouse unbuttoned to reveal the curve of her collarbone, her tailored black trousers accentuating her long legs, her icy blonde hair swept into a loose chignon, her green eyes glinting with hunger and frustration. At 35, she was a force of nature—ruthless, brilliant, her beauty a weapon, her intellect a guillotine. Raised in a crumbling industrial town by a single mother, Isabelle had clawed her way through elite schools on scholarships, her charm outmatching her wealthier peers. A fiancé's betrayal at 24—he'd traded her for a richer match—had forged her heart into steel, teaching her that power was the only currency that endured. As senior VP, she'd earned Victor Blackwood's respect, but Eva Carter's influence over him sparked a jealousy laced with a buried craving for his attention.
Isabelle's audits to expose Eva's forged credentials had been thwarted by Marcus Kane's interference, and now, a new lead—offshore accounts tied to Marcus—suggested he was playing a dangerous game. Her ambition burned hotter, but so did her fascination with Marcus, his cunning a match for her own, his charm a temptation she'd resisted until tonight. She'd summoned him to her office under the pretext of discussing the scandal's fallout, but the real agenda was control, a game of dominance and desire to bend him to her will—or break him trying.
Across the city, Eva stood in her apartment, her black silk dress clinging to her curves, the silver bracelet Victor gave her a fragile tether to his love, now fraying under doubt. Her forged credentials, used to secure her role as Victor's personal assistant, were at risk of exposure, and the leaked Blackwood scandal, orchestrated to destroy Liam Blackwood, had fractured Victor's family. Liam, once a rising star, had vanished after the scandal's exposure, his career in ruins, rumored to be hiding in a Caribbean villa, drowning his shame in liquor and anonymity. Eva's thoughts were on Victor, whose discovery of a hidden file on her laptop hinted at her deception, threatening to unravel everything. Tonight, she'd face his suspicions in a desperate, intimate bid to preserve his trust, while Isabelle and Marcus's collision would ignite a new fire in the Blackwood saga.
###
The Blackwood tower's executive floor was a crucible of tension, the scandal's fallout fueling whispered plots and sidelong glances. Eva sat at her desk, her black silk dress a bold contrast to the fear gnawing at her core, its plunging neckline accentuating her curves, her makeup sharp to mask her unease. The bracelet gleamed, a reminder of Victor's love, but the hidden file—containing traces of her forged credentials—loomed like a guillotine. Her fingers danced over her laptop, drafting a crisis memo, but her thoughts were on Victor, whose trust was crumbling under Isabelle's relentless probing and rumors of Liam's downfall. Liam's absence was a ghost in the tower, his name whispered in boardrooms, his failure a wound to Victor's legacy. Reports placed him in a Barbados villa, cut off from the family, his silence a mystery Eva couldn't afford to probe.
Isabelle stood in her office, the city's lights a glittering backdrop, her emerald blouse unbuttoned further, revealing the edge of a black lace bra, her posture a deliberate invitation. Her discovery of Marcus's offshore accounts—linked to an unknown entity—had shifted her strategy. Marcus was no longer just an obstacle; he was a puzzle, his hazel eyes and British charm a challenge she wanted to unravel. Her ambition to unseat Eva was personal, but her attraction to Marcus was a complication, a fire she'd stoke to gain his secrets—or his surrender.
Eva caught Isabelle's gaze through the glass walls, a silent gauntlet thrown, and braced herself. Isabelle approached, her heels clicking, her smile a venomous curve. "Ms. Carter," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, "the scandal's gutting Victor's empire. You're his… confidante. Any secrets slipping through those delicate hands?"
The jab was a blade, probing Eva's loyalty. Eva leaned back, her smile sultry, her fingers brushing the bracelet. "Victor's my world," she purred, her tone low, provocative. "I keep him fulfilled, Isabelle. Focus on your own battles, not mine."
Isabelle's eyes flashed, her frustration simmering beneath her icy façade. "Battles have victors," she said, stepping closer, her perfume—jasmine and amber—sharp. "Yours might leave you ashes, Eva. I'll be watching."
The threat landed, but Eva held her ground, her voice a husky challenge. "Watch all you want," she said, standing, her dress hugging her curves, her posture defiant. "I don't crumble."
Isabelle turned away, her mind a storm. Marcus's accounts were a lead, and she'd use every weapon—her body, her words—to break him, her ambition a fire that burned brighter with each setback.
Victor summoned Eva to his office, the glass walls framing a city now buzzing with his family's shame. He stood by a leather sofa, his charcoal suit jacket off, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a tantalizing sliver of tanned chest, his dark eyes smoldering with strain and desire. "Lock the door," he growled, his voice a command laced with intimacy, his presence a magnet pulling her in.
Eva complied, her heart pounding, the file's shadow looming, her body tingling with need. She crossed to him, her heels silent on the plush carpet, her black silk dress catching the light, her curves a silent invitation. "You're a fortress," she said, her voice husky, stopping inches from him, her scent—rose and musk—enveloping him. "Holding it all together. It's fucking sexy."