It was 9:38 PM when Ziannah "Zih" Miller stepped out of her black Mercedes-AMG coupe, heels clicking against the marble driveway of the Platinum Lounge. Her hips swayed like music only she could hear, her wine-red satin dress clinging to her curves like it feared the night might steal her away. The air around her felt warmer with every step, and eyes—both male and female—followed her like she was gravity itself. She didn't just enter the party. She commanded it.
Inside the penthouse, the music thumped low and heavy, bass blending with laughter and the clink of glasses. LED strips lit the walls with a soft violet hue, casting shadows that flickered over silk dresses and half-unbuttoned shirts. The rooftop pool shimmered under string lights, and the gang was already half a bottle deep in tequila.
Peter "Pet" Jacobs lounged shirtless by the hot tub, legs spread, beer in hand, gold chain resting against his tan chest. His dirty blond curls were slightly damp, eyes glassy with just the right amount of buzz. When Zih walked in, time stalled. The chatter softened. The room noticed her.
"Damn," Peter muttered under his breath, watching her with a grin that knew every inch beneath that dress. "She dressed like she's about to ruin my life... again."
Mikey, Peter's cousin and best friend, looked up from his game of cards and smirked. "Correction, bro. You want her to."
Zih didn't walk to Peter. She strutted. The kind of strut that made clocks stop ticking. She didn't ask permission when she sat on his lap; she never had to. Her fingers laced behind his neck as her thighs slid across his.
"Hey, loverboy," she whispered, voice like honey over smoke. "Miss me?"
Peter's eyes darkened. "I've been hard since you texted, 'on the way.'"
Zih bit her lip. "Then let's not waste the night."
10:10 PM – Guest Room, Behind the Bar
They barely made it to the guest room. The moment the door clicked shut, Peter pressed her against it, his mouth crashing into hers like something starved. Their kiss was a collision, messy and hot, all tongue and heat.
Zih's dress slid down with practiced ease, pooling at her feet. No bra. No hesitation. Just bare skin and bold tension.
Peter dropped to his knees. "God, I missed this body."
His lips kissed up her thighs, slow, reverent, sinful. Her fingers tangled in his hair.
"Then prove it," she moaned.
And he did. Tongue tracing circles, slow at first, then firmer, deeper. Her breath hitched. One hand gripped the door, the other fisted in his hair. She gasped, loud and unfiltered.
"Fuck, Pet—don't stop..."
Her climax came like thunder. Legs shaking, moans muffled against the back of her hand. He rose, mouth glistening, eyes dark.
"You taste better than tequila," he whispered, lifting her into his arms.
10:30 PM – Bed
She straddled him on the bed, lowering herself inch by aching inch, her nails raking down his chest. They both groaned as their bodies connected. She rolled her hips, slow at first, savoring.
"You're not the only one who's been craving," she whispered.
Peter gripped her waist, guiding her rhythm. "Fuck, Zih... You're unreal."
She smirked, bouncing harder. Sweat glistened between her breasts. His hands moved up to cup them, thumbs circling her nipples.
"Say my name," she growled.
"Zih," he gasped.
"Louder."
"Fuck, Ziannah!"
The room filled with the sound of skin on skin, the slap of bodies, headboard slamming against the wall. Their moans echoed, wild and uninhibited.
She came first, shuddering and loud. He followed, thrusting deep as he spilled inside her. They collapsed, tangled in sweaty sheets and each other's scent.
12:12 AM – Rooftop Pool
Wrapped in robes, wine in hand, they sat beside the pool. City lights shimmered below. It felt like the world had quieted just for them.
"Why don't we just date?" Zih asked, legs dipped in the warm water.
Peter sipped his wine. "Because the sex is too good to ruin with feelings."
Zih looked at him. "But we already have feelings."
He paused. "You serious?"
She nodded. "You make me laugh. You make me scream. And you made me breakfast last time."
Peter chuckled. "That was just eggs."
"You peeled the oranges, Pet."
He looked at her, the playful spark still in his eye. "Alright. Let's try it. You and me."
Zih grinned. "Just don't expect me to stop calling you my slut."
Peter leaned in, his lips brushing hers. "Only if you don't expect me to ruin that dress again next week."
3:03 AM – His Room
They fell asleep tangled together, bodies warm, hearts quieter than usual. No guilt. No shame.
Just heat. Just laughs. Just something dangerously close to love.
4:44 AM – The Morning After
The sun hadn't risen, but the city lights had dimmed just enough to let the quiet in. Ziannah stirred first. Peter's arm was wrapped around her waist, heavy, comforting. His breath hit the back of her neck.
She didn't move. Not yet. She just listened to the silence. The kind that felt like something new was growing in it.
Peter groaned softly, half-asleep. "You still here?"
Zih smiled. "Still stuck with you."
He pulled her tighter, lips grazing her shoulder. "Good."
A pause.
"I wasn't joking last night," she whispered. "I do want this to be something real."
Peter opened his eyes slowly. "Me too."
Their fingers intertwined beneath the covers.
No promises. No pressure.
Just one quiet night turned into something more.
And it all began… on a Friday.