James
I hadn’t seen either of them since Provocateur.
We’d texted just enough to keep me breathing, just enough to remind me it hadn’t all been a fever dream, but it wasn’t the same without them, not even close. I couldn’t sleep right, couldn’t eat right, hell, I couldn’t breathe the same without them near me.
So I buried myself in work. I spent the rest of the weekend at my parents’ old house, fixing small things before the sale was finalized, tightening leaky faucets, patching cracks, and replacing bulbs.
The kind of quiet work that kept my hands busy while my mind spun in circles.
But even there, in the silence of those empty rooms, all I could think about was the two of them.
The way they’d undone me. The way I’d let them. The way I wanted more.
Today was supposed to be a distraction. Kickoff meeting for the overpass project.
All the contractors, subs, and my team packed into a conference room to hash out safety, schedules, and logistics.
It was the kind of thing I usually thrived on, a billion moving parts, and me at the center, pulling the strings.
But then Amiyah walked in.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice warm, professional.
I turned around, forgetting how to breathe.
Her hair, usually a halo of curls, was bone straight, glossy, and sharp, hanging down her back like a blade.
The eggplant purple wide-leg pants skimmed the floor, perfectly tailored, with a silk orange blouse tucked in that glowed against her skin.
Orange heels to match, work bag slung over her shoulder, glasses framing her face.
She looked like sex, and I couldn’t hide my emotions if I wanted to. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to ruin every inch of that polished armor and remind her who she whispered for in the dark.
But all I could do was stare.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked, setting her bag down, eyes soft behind the lenses.
It took me a second too long to find my voice. “Uh, yeah. You can… put the meeting agendas on the seats. I’ll finish setting up.”
She smiled, politely and professionally, “Gotcha,” she replied, but I saw the flicker of heat there, quick as a spark, before she moved to do as I asked. My chest ached watching her, the sway of her hips even in wide-leg trousers, the confidence in every step.
By the time the contractors filtered in and the chatter filled the room, I was already strung tight, and then Calla walked in.
Her navy blue wrap dress clung to every curve she owned, knotted perfectly at the waist. Slingback heels clicked against the tile, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail that made her cheekbones look lethal.
She carried herself like she wasn’t walking into a meeting; instead, she was walking onto a battlefield, and she knew she’d already won.
My throat closed.
They were both here, my women, acting like they hadn’t had me on my knees pleasing them; however, they needed to be days ago. Acting like they hadn’t left me gutted and starving for more.
I tried to focus as people introduced themselves, as schedules and safety briefings started rolling, but all I could think about was Calla’s moan in my ear, and Amiyah’s trembling whisper of Mistress, and the way they looked at me, like I was theirs.
And now here they were, sitting across from me in silk and wrap dresses, penning notes and flipping pages like they didn’t own my body and soul.
And God help me, all I wanted was to be ruined by them again.
I sat at the head of the table, slides queued on the screen and the agenda stacked neatly in front of me. My voice came out steady enough when I kicked things off, but inside? I was wrecked.
Every time I glanced left, Amiyah was there, her glasses sliding just low enough on her nose for me to catch the gleam in her eyes.
She’d jot something on her notepad, then tip her chin up like she knew I was watching.
Her hair fell in that glossy sheet across her shoulders, and I had to grip the edge of the table to stop myself from imagining it in my fist.
Every time I glanced right, Calla was there, poised, perfect, legs crossed under that wrap dress in a way that made my throat go dry.
She leaned back just slightly, arms folded, as she appeared to be paying close attention to everything being said, but I could feel her eyes sliding over me every time I shifted.
I tried to focus on the words coming out of the contractors’ mouths: Safety, staging, lane closures, deadlines. It was the kind of language I lived for. However, in this moment, my body was betraying me. My dick pressed hard against my slacks, precum leaking out, my chest tight, my breath shallow.
Amiyah caught me staring once. She tilted her head, lips curling just enough to show the edge of a smile before she looked back at her notes as my pulse stumbled.
Conversations about drilling, rebar delivery schedules, and inclinometers went in one ear and out the other until I noticed Calla shift in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, slowly and deliberately, the silk of her dress slipping higher on her thigh.
She didn’t glance at me; she didn’t need to because she knew exactly what she was doing.
I nearly dropped my pen.
As I sat at the head of the table, the different teams continuing to discuss all the key elements required to make this project not only successful but accident-free, all I could focus on was the group message that had just lit up my phone.
Calla Black: Jay, you won't believe how good Amiyah tasted this weekend.
Her moans permeated through my penthouse.
I had my tongue buried so deep in her tight asshole as I stroked in and out of her pretty pussy with two fingers before I rode her juicy clit until we both exploded. I'm still feeling the aftershocks.
Amiyah Patterson: Imagine how good it felt when I grabbed our Mistress by the waist and had her grind her pretty pussy all over my nipples until she squirted all over my titties and face, mmmm ??
I shifted in my seat, adjusting my tie, trying to hide the effect their words were having on me.
My dick pressed hard against my slacks, and my chest felt tight.
I could almost hear her voice, low and sultry, whispering those words directly into my ear.
The image of them together, their bodies entwined, was nearly too much to bear.
A groan slipped past my lips, drawing their eyes to me.
Amiyah tilting her head, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.
My pulse raced, and I had to look away, focusing on the contractors’ words, but they were just noise now, drowning out the real conversation happening in my head, causing me to drop my pen, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to maintain my composure.
The meeting dragged on, and with each passing minute, I found it more challenging to focus. All I could think about was dismissing everyone, locking the doors, and taking what was mine right here on this conference table as they both begged me to keep stroking them.
Instead, I clenched my jaw, nodded at the right times, and scribbled notes I’d have to decipher later.
If I let myself unravel in front of them, in front of everyone, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop.
The tension in the room was palpable, and it was all I could do to keep from reaching out and touching them, feeling their skin, tasting their lips.
As the meeting reached Q I needed to be broken and put back together with Calla’s power and Amiyah’s softness.
The meeting ended in a blur of handshakes and small talk, contractors filing out with folders tucked under their arms, voices bouncing off the walls as they promised follow-ups and shared numbers.
I did my part, shook hands, nodded, played the role.
But inside? I was still burning from that damn text.
By the time the last man with a hard hat slipped out, the room felt too quiet. My tie was strangling me, my collar damp, my notes nothing but scratches and jagged half-sentences. I dropped into my chair, tugged at the knot of silk until I could finally breathe.
That’s when I noticed I wasn’t alone.
Amiyah was still there, sliding her glasses into their case, neat and efficient, like she hadn’t just sat across from me looking like sin in a pantsuit.
Calla leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, one heel propped against the wall.
She wasn’t smiling, not really, though her mouth had the faintest curl, the kind of smirk that let me know she’d been waiting for this exact moment.
“You really thought you could text me that in the middle of my meeting?” My voice came out low, rougher than I meant it to.
Her brow arched, amused. “You handled yourself… adequately.”
I scoffed, sitting forward. “Adequately? You had me shifting in my seat like a rookie intern. I damn near forgot my own name halfway through the safety brief.”
Amiyah bit her lip, the corner of her mouth twitching. “You did clear your throat about twenty times.”
I shot her a look, heat crawling up my neck. “Not helping, Amiyah.”
She shrugged, “Oh, I’m helping,” she said, laughing softly. “Watching you squirm was the best part of my morning.”
Calla’s smirk widened. “Mine too.” She pushed off the doorframe, walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps, heels clicking against the tile. “Besides, it’s not my fault you can’t keep your dick and your composure separate.”
I clenched my jaw, breath catching as she leaned down, her lips grazing the shell of my ear. “I can still hear her moans,” she whispered. “Do you want me to tell you how loud she was for me? How she gushes when you tongue fuck her asshole as you finger her slowly?”