Chapter 7
SEVEN
INDIGO
I wake to the warmth of Mack's body pressed against mine, his arm draped possessively over my waist like he owns me.
The penthouse is bathed in soft morning light filtering through the curtains, Cupid City's skyline a hazy backdrop beyond the windows.
My muscles ache in the best way, a delicious reminder of last night—how the fake date turned real after we got back, tension snapping like a live wire.
One heated argument about "protocols," and suddenly we were tearing at each other's clothes, enemies colliding in a frenzy of need.
He took me right there on the couch first, then carried me to the bed, growling filthy promises that made me shatter over and over. God, I came so hard I saw stars.
Now, here we are, tangled in the sheets, his breath steady and hot against my neck.
I shift slightly, feeling his morning hardness nudge against my ass, and a thrill shoots through me.
I shouldn't want this—him—so badly. He's my bodyguard, grumpy as hell, but damn, the way he looks at me, protects me.
.. it's addictive. And that dirty mouth? It unlocks something wild in me.
He stirs, his hand sliding up to cup my breast, thumb lazily circling my nipple. "Morning, princess," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and something darker. "Sleep well after I fucked you senseless?"
A shiver runs down my spine. I love it when he talks like that—raw, commanding. It makes my core clench with anticipation. "Mmm, like a well-fucked supermodel," I tease back, arching into his touch. "You weren't so bad yourself, big guy."
He chuckles low, nipping at my earlobe. "Not bad? Baby, I had you screaming my name. Begging for more." His fingers pinch my nipple just hard enough to make me gasp, pleasure-pain sparking. "Admit it—you loved every second of my cock owning that tight pussy."
Heat floods my cheeks and between my legs. "God, yes," I breathe, turning in his arms to face him. His eyes are stormy, hair tousled, stubble shadowing that strong jaw. Gorgeous. I trace a finger down his chest, over the ridges of abs, lower to where he's rock-hard and ready. "And now? Round two?"
He grabs my wrist, pulling my hand to his length, wrapping my fingers around him.
He's thick, throbbing under my palm. "Feel that?
That's what you do to me, Indigo. Waking up next to you, smelling like sex and vanilla.
I want to bury myself in you again. Make you come until you can't walk straight for that showcase. "
I stroke him slowly, loving the way his breath hitches. "Promises, promises." But my body's already responding, nipples pebbled, thighs slick. I lean in, kissing him deep, tongues tangling as his free hand roams down my body, squeezing my ass.
He breaks the kiss, flipping me onto my back in one smooth move, pinning me with his weight. "Not promises—facts." His mouth trails down my neck, sucking marks that'll need concealer later. "I'm gonna tease you first. Get you dripping wet, begging like the naughty girl you are."
"Yes," I moan, threading fingers through his hair as he moves lower, lavishing attention on my breasts. He sucks one nipple hard, teeth grazing, while his hand kneads the other. Sensations build, slow and torturous. "Mack... more."
"Patience, baby." He switches sides, tongue swirling, making me arch off the bed. His hand dips between my thighs, fingers tracing my wetness without entering. "Fuck, you're soaked already. This pretty pussy missed me, huh? Clenching for my touch."
I whimper, hips bucking. "Tease."
"That's right." He slides one finger inside me, slow, curling to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. "Gonna finger-fuck you until you're on the edge. Then maybe I'll let you come."
He adds a second finger, pumping steadily, thumb circling my clit in lazy circles. Pleasure coils tight, my breaths coming in pants. "Oh god, Mack... that feels so good."
"Look at you, writhing like a slut for me." His voice is gravel, eyes locked on mine, dark with lust. "You love it dirty, don't you? My supermodel princess, all spread out and needy."
"Yes... fuck, yes." The words send me higher, his filthy talk like fuel on the fire. I grind against his hand, chasing the release, but he slows just as I'm teetering.
"Not yet." He withdraws, smirking at my frustrated groan. "Up. Shower. I want you slippery and soapy when I fuck you."
He hauls me out of bed, my legs shaky, and we stumble to the bathroom. The space is luxurious—marble everywhere, a massive rainfall shower. He cranks the water hot, steam filling the air as he sets me under the spray first as the water cascades over my skin.
Mack joins me, pressing me against the cool tile, his body a wall of heat. "Hands on the wall," he commands, spinning me around. I comply, palms flat, ass out as the water pours over us.
"Good girl." His hands roam, soaping me up—lathering my breasts, pinching my nipples until I moan. "Gonna clean you up just to dirty you again."
One of his hands slides down, fingers teasing my clit while the other spreads soap over my ass, dipping between my cheeks. It’s so naughty while also being so intimate. I push back, loving the possession. "Mack..."
"Shh. Feel this." He presses a soapy finger against my back entrance, not entering, just circling, while his other hand works my pussy faster. "Imagine me taking you here one day. Filling every hole."
The thought is wicked, sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me. "God, you're filthy."
"And you love it." He chuckles, slipping two fingers back inside my core, pumping as his thumb rubs my clit. Water slicks everything, heightening each sensation. "Come for me first, baby. Soak my hand like the greedy girl you are."
Pressure builds, his fingers relentless, dirty words in my ear: "That's it, clench around me. You're so tight, so wet. Gonna fuck you soon, stretch this pussy until you scream."
I shatter, orgasm ripping through me as my walls pulse around his fingers. "Mack! Fuck... yes!"
He doesn't let up, drawing it out until I'm trembling, knees weak. Then he spins me, lifting one leg over his hip. "Now, the main event." His cock nudges my entrance, teasing. "Beg for it, Indigo. Tell me you want this dick ruining you."
"Please... fuck me, Mack. I need it." I'm so desperate, loving the power play.
He thrusts in deep, filling me completely. We both groan, the angle perfect under the water. "Fuck, you're perfect. Gripping me like a vice." He starts moving, hard and slow, hands on my hips. "Take it all, baby. Every inch."
I claw at his shoulders, meeting his thrusts, water splashing. "Harder... talk to me."
"Dirty girl, begging for more." He pounds faster, one hand tangling in my wet hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck. He bites down lightly. "This pussy's mine now. Gonna fill you up, mark you inside."
"Yes... yours." The words push me over again, climax building as he hits deep.
"Come with me," he growls, thrusts erratic. "Milk my cock, princess."
We explode together, my cries echoing off the tiles, his groan muffled against my skin as he spills inside me.
Panting, we slump against the wall, water still raining down. He kisses me soft now, a contrast to the filth. "You okay?"
"More than." I smile, sated. But the day's just starting—show tonight, stalker still out there. For now, though, this? It’s perfect.
The showcase hall pulses with controlled chaos—lights flashing in test patterns, music thumping through the speakers, models strutting in half-finished looks while designers bark adjustments.
I’m in the middle of it all, barefoot on the runway in a crimson lace teddy, running my final walk-through.
My heart’s racing, but not just from nerves about tonight.
Mack’s stationed at the side of the stage, arms crossed, eyes scanning every face in the crowd of crew and VIPs like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
After this morning’s shower—God, the way he pinned me against the tiles and talked me through every filthy inch—it’s hard to focus on anything else.
But I’m Indigo Lyric. Mask on. Strut perfect.
I finish the turn, hips swaying, and drop into the final pose when a familiar voice cuts through the noise like a knife.
“Indie?”
I freeze. Viola. My little sister. Here. Unannounced.
She’s weaving through the chaos in ripped black jeans, a leather jacket slung over a band tee, dark hair choppy and streaked purple.
Same defiant chin as when she was twelve and told Mom she was done with tiaras forever.
She looks tired, though—shadows under her eyes, shoulders hunched like she’s carrying more than just a backpack.
I step off the stage fast, bare feet slapping the floor. “Vi? What the hell are you doing here?”
She gives me that half-smirk, the one that used to get her out of trouble.
“Surprise visit. Cupid City’s got good vibes, right?
” Her eyes flick past me to Mack, who’s already moving, closing the distance in three strides.
He plants himself slightly in front of me—not blocking, but definitely between us.
He’s so protective. And it completely undoes me.
“Who’s this?” he asks, voice low and flat. Not a question. An assessment.
“My sister. Viola.” I touch his arm, light, reassuring. “It’s okay.”
He doesn’t relax. “She on the list?”
“She’s family,” I say, sharper than I mean to. Then softer, to Vi, “How’d you even get back here?”
“Flashed my ID and said I was your plus-one emergency. Worked on the door guy.” She shrugs like it’s nothing, but her fingers twist the strap of her bag. She’s nervous. I can tell. “Can we… talk? Privately?”
Mack’s gaze flicks to me. I nod once. He steps aside but stays close enough to hear, arms still crossed, jaw tight. He doesn’t trust surprises. Not today. Probably not ever.
We move to a quiet corner behind a rack of gowns. Viola exhales, dropping the bravado. “I’m in a bind, Indie. The band’s van died outside Atlanta. Repairs are three grand. Tour’s booked, gigs are paid, but we’re tapped out. I just need a loan. I’ll pay it back. Promise.”
I study her. The same story, different city. But her eyes are pleading, not entitled. And damn it, she’s my sister.
“How much?” I ask quietly.
“Three thousand. Maybe four if the alternator’s shot too.”
Mack shifts behind me. I can feel his disapproval radiating like heat. Unannounced. No security check. Possible risk. But I can’t turn her away—not here, not now.
“I’ll wire it tonight,” I tell her. “After the show. But Vi… you can’t just show up like this. Not with everything going on.”
She nods fast. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”
I pull her into a quick hug. She smells like cigarette smoke and cheap van air freshener. “Stay for the show if you want. I’ll get you a seat. But don’t disappear again, okay?”
She squeezes me back. “Deal.”
As she walks away toward the exit, Mack steps closer, voice a low rumble in my ear. “You sure about her?”
“She’s family,” I repeat, softer this time. “And she’s not the stalker.”
He doesn’t argue, but his hand brushes the small of my back—warm and steady. A silent promise: he’s got me. Even if he doesn’t like the variables.
I exhale, square my shoulders, and head back to the runway. Showtime’s coming. And so is whatever’s next.