47. Gabriel
There’s a sleek black car with a driver waiting under the valet canopy when we walk outside. The driver opens the door as Lars and Neomi approach.
I clear my throat. “My place for a nightcap?”
Neomi lifts a shoulder, looking to Lars. “I’d like a drink.”
He smiles. “That sounds great. If you like we can all take the car. We’ve all been drinking.”
“Great.” I calmly exhale. “My place isn’t far from here.”
Lars and Neomi slide into the backseat while I give the driver my address. Then I join them, Neomi by the window and Lars in between us. Then we pull away from the club.
The drive doesn’t take long, but it’s enough for anticipation to crawl deep under my skin. We sit silently in the backseat, a charged air settling thick around us. Lars places a firm hand on Neomi’s thigh and they exchange a smile. Not to be forgotten, my hand lands on Lars’ leg.
His eyes stay on my hand for a moment, then he surprises me with a soft kiss of reassurance to my jaw. Neomi shifts in her seat, laying her head on Lars’ shoulder with a warm sigh. By the time we reach my building, the night has settled deep in my blood, thick and electric.
The elevator opens directly into my apartment, and I step out first, key fob in my hand as the lights rise gradually from dim to gold.
My space stretches wide, defined by clean architectural lines and windows overlooking the Chicago River.
The city spreads beneath us—glass towers, moving headlights, the dark ribbon of water cutting through it all.
The space is filled with modern furnishings.
A sectional facing the skyline, a long island in the kitchen, brushed brass fixtures catching the light.
A baby grand piano rests near the windows, black lacquer gleaming under a single pendant lamp, its curved silhouette breaking up the sharp edges of the room.
Neomi slowly steps inside, her heels soft against the hardwood before she slips them off, eyes lifting to take in the ceiling and the sweep of the view.
Curiosity replaces the heat from the club; her expression is now thoughtful as she walks toward the windows.
Lars follows a beat later. His gaze moves methodically over the windows, walls, and the hallway.
He’s cataloging my space without appearing obvious about it.
I watch them both as I set down my keys.
The apartment is rented under a name that doesn’t exist outside paperwork, one of several I keep in rotation.
When I travel, I prefer comfort, space, and privacy.
Luxury is easy to secure when you know how to move money without leaving fingerprints, and if I’m going to live between identities, I might as well do it well.
I walk to the sidebar that sits in the corner of the living area. “I have whiskey or red wine. Dealer's choice.”
Neomi chuckles as I take the topper from the decanter and pour myself two fingers of whiskey. As I replace the crystal stopper, she approaches me. I take a long pull from the glass and she speaks.
“I know we came here under the premise of a drink.” She takes the glass from my hand and tips the glass back, finishing the contents. “But I think we all know that isn’t really why we’re here.”
The sound of her gently placing the glass on the bar echoes through the room.
“Do you play?” she asks, tipping her head toward the piano.
My eyes lock with Lars as I answer, “I do.”
Her hands rise slowly to the buttons of my shirt.
The first button slips free, and she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the strip of skin she’s uncovered.
Her lips are warm, almost reverent, and the contrast against my overheated chest causes me to inhale sharply.
My eyes drift closed from the relief of finally being touched.
Another button. Another kiss.
Her mouth lingers, lips brushing in slow passes before she parts them slightly, her breath fanning over my skin. My head tips back, throat exposed, my mind clouded with a haze of want. My hands reach back to grip the bar behind me.
I lower my head and look at Lars. He stands across the room from us, his eyes focused on our every contact. His chest moves with shallow breaths, hands in his pockets.
Button. Kiss.
The shirt parts wider now, cool air grazing over my skin.
Her fingers slide beneath the fabric, easing it open as she lowers herself.
Each kiss follows a careful descent down my chest, across the firm plane of my stomach.
When she tugs the shirt free from the waistband of my pants, the fabric whispers against my skin, and she presses her mouth beside the line of hair below my navel.
After placing one last kiss to my sternum, she turns to walk to Lars. She proceeds to remove his shirt the same way. When the second button is gone, Lars brushes her hair back from her face, exposing me to the view.
He’s all muscle and smooth, olive skin. A couple of tattoos on his arm and I see a bit of black script on the side of his ribs. I can’t take my eyes off them.
When Lars’ shirt is gone, Neomi crosses to the center of the room, facing the windows, her back to us. She reaches back, lowering the zipper of her dress. She slips the strap off one arm and then the other in a slow tease that has my pulse hammering in my veins.
Then her dress falls to the floor.
Lars and I groan, exhaling at the same time. Fuck her curves might send me to my grave tonight. Her waist is cinched in a black silk corset. Her heart-shaped ass outlined in a black lace thong.
Turning to us, I have a full view of her breasts overflowing from the top.
“Lars, your wife is incredibly beautiful.”
Lars swipes his thumb across his bottom lip. “She is, isn’t she? Simply breathtaking.”
A beautiful shade of pink rises in Neomi’s cheeks. With a coy grin, she works to undo the corset, dropping it to the floor beside her dress. My mouth waters at the sight of her full breasts. I want to lick, suck and bite them, leaving my mark.
Then she hooks her fingers through the band of her thong and bends, slowly sliding it down her thighs. She rises to stand and shimmies, letting the lace fall to the floor.
She steps onto the bench and climbs carefully onto the top of the baby grand, settling above the keyboard.
The lacquered surface gleams beneath her thighs, the light above reflecting off her skin.
Slowly, she spreads her legs, planting one heel at the far bass end of the keys and the other near the treble.
A few notes press down under the weight of her feet, loud and discordant in the quiet room.
She leans back, her beautiful, glistening, pink pussy is on full display and my cock weeps. I want to devour her, my dick screams to fuck them both, claim them. I want to own her, own them. I want them spent in my bed, begging for me to stop, covered in my cum.
Neomi tilts her head, blonde waves falling over her shoulder, her hand sliding down her body toward her center.
“Play something for me, Gabriel.”