James #4
Amiyah straightened so fast she almost knocked into me. “Oh—uh—hey,” she stammered, her voice an octave too high.
I bit back a smirk. She was trying so damn hard to look composed, to look untouched. But her pupils were still blown wide, her skin glowed, and I knew if Lena leaned close enough, she’d smell the sex in the air.
Calil slid into his seat across from us, completely oblivious. Lena dropped down beside Amiyah, setting a martini in front of her. “Girl, you good? You look flushed.”
Amiyah fumbled with the glass, taking a quick sip, her dimples flickering nervously. “I’m fine,” she lied, her voice barely steady. “Just… warm in here.”
Calla hummed low behind her, sipping her own drink with leisurely grace. “She’s glowing,” she said smoothly, like it was a compliment no one could argue with. Her fingers trailed down Amiyah’s arm in a way that looked casual, but I saw the goosebumps it left behind.
I shifted closer, pressing my knee to Amiyah’s under the table, subtle enough that Lena and Calil wouldn’t notice. Her eyes flicked to mine, panic and hunger warring in them, and I couldn’t stop the slow grin spreading across my face.
Because she knew.
Because we knew.
And the secret hummed between the three of us like an electrical current no one else at the table could feel.
Lena launched into a story about someone from work, Calil added his commentary, and the noise of their banter filled the air. But I wasn’t listening. Calla wasn’t listening.
Our focus stayed locked on Amiyah, caught in the crossfire of our attention, trying to sip her drink and laugh at Lena’s jokes while her thighs still trembled from the orgasm we’d stolen from her in plain sight.
My arm was draped across the back of the booth behind her, casual to anyone else—but a cage to her. Calla tilted her glass, her smile sharp and satisfied.
Amiyah kept her eyes forward, but I saw the faintest flicker of a smile tug at her lips. She wasn’t running, not anymore.
And that was the most dangerous part of all.
Dinner blurred after that. I couldn’t tell you what song the band played, or what Lena kept chattering about, or even what I ordered.
All I knew was the heat rolling off Amiyah beside me, the way her body stayed wound tight even as she tried to look casual, and the smug calm radiating off Calla, sipping her wine like she’d just conducted a flawless symphony.
By the time the check came, Amiyah had finally stopped trembling, but her skin still held that glow, that just-fucked flush she couldn’t scrub off no matter how many polite smiles she gave Lena.
Calla stretched languidly, as if the night had only just begun. “We’ll walk you ladies out,” she said smoothly, her tone polite but leaving no room for refusal.
Lena beamed. “That’s sweet of you.” She slid out of the booth first, oblivious.
Amiyah hesitated, her eyes flicking to mine, then Calla’s. Her lips parted like she might argue, might find an excuse to stay rooted to that booth, but no words came. She just nodded, grabbed her bumbag, and followed.
We stepped out into the night air, cooler now, the glow of streetlamps bouncing off windshields. Lena and Calil were a few steps ahead, already caught up in easy banter. That left me, Calla, and Amiyah trailing slightly behind.
Calla took the lead this time, her heels clicking against the pavement as she glanced over her shoulder at Amiyah. “You held yourself well in there,” she murmured, her words meant only for us. “I’m impressed.”
Amiyah let out a shaky laugh, her arms folding across her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” Calla smirked, her gaze sharp, cutting right through her pretense. “Because I can still feel you shaking.”
Amiyah’s breath hitched, and I stepped in closer, my hand brushing the small of her back, guiding her forward. “You were perfect,” I said, low and rough. “Every second of it.”
Her head dipped, the brim of her hat concealing her face, but not before I saw the way her lips curved—the smallest, most dangerous smile.
Lena called out, “We’re over here!” pointing to their car. She and Calil walked off toward the lot, leaving us at the curb.
For a moment, the three of us stood in the halo of a single streetlight, the night quiet around us. Amiyah’s eyes darted between us, uncertainty and heat mixing in equal measure.
Calla leaned in, close enough that her perfume wrapped around us both. “Head home with Lena tonight,” she whispered. “But know this… the next time you sit with us, you won’t be leaving until we explore every inch of you.”
Amiyah’s lips parted, her breath shallow. She didn’t answer; she didn’t have to because the look in her eyes told me everything—she was already ours, whether she admitted it or not.
Lena’s voice broke the spell, calling her name again. Amiyah gave a quick nod, whispered, “Goodnight, see you tomorrow,” and hurried toward the car.
I watched her go, my body still aching, my dick growing stiff all over again just from the sway of her hips.
Calla slid her hand into mine, her grip firm, victorious. “She’s hooked,” she murmured. And God help me, I needed her to be because I was hooked.