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10. Stay in Bed with Me
Huling Na-update:
2025-08-02 13:46:13The full moon was high above us while we stayed in bed.
I was naked, in his bed, wrapped in soft sheets that still held the scent of his skin and the warmth of his body. John stood by the windows, shirtless, wearing grey pajama pants hanging low on his hips, his phone in one hand. I watched him in silence. His broad back, the defined muscles shifting with each movement. The strong shoulders. The curve of his spine down to that narrow waist. And that calm, confident walk—like he knew everything in the world, including me, already belonged to him. “Yeah, cancel everything for today,” he said on the phone, not bothering to lower his voice. “If it won’t die without me, it can wait until tomorrow.” Silence. Then, a small, knowing smile. “I’m busy,” he added, with a tone of satisfaction that made me blush even though he wasn’t looking at me. He hung up. Turned around. And caught me staring at him. He didn’t say anything. Just walked toward me with that dangerous calm, like a predator certain of its prey. He climbed into bed slowly, the sheets shifting under his weight. One hand beside my head, and then he leaned in. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, that rough, just-woken voice sending a shiver straight through me. “I slept like someone knocked me out,” I murmured, eyes fixed on his mouth. He smiled. His gaze dropped to my lips. “Don’t look at me like that, Cat. I’m not done with you yet.” “You’re not?” “No.” His hand slid down my arm, slow, reaching my waist. He touched me like he already knew every part of me. Like he was picking up exactly where we left off. “You’re addicted to control,” I told him, swallowing a sigh. “And you’re addicted to me taking it from you.” He didn’t give me time to reply. His lips brushed mine—barely. A tease. A whisper of a kiss that dragged a frustrated breath from my lungs. He pulled back just before it deepened. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look like this?” he asked. “Hair a mess, my mark on your neck, that look on your face like you want me again.” “And you?” I said, dragging my fingers down his stomach, slowly. “Do you have any idea how good you look when you pretend to be calm and you’re seconds away from devouring me?” His muscles tensed under my touch. “Yeah? You like that?” “I love it.” John pinned me beneath him in a single movement, his hands catching my wrists above my head, his chest firm against mine, his breath hot in my ear. “Tell me what else you like, Cat.” “I like your back… your arms…” I gasped. “But mostly, I like when you stop talking and kiss me like you did last night.” He laughed, low and dark. “Then don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And he kissed me. No pause. No softness. He kissed like he was starving. Like time was a luxury and I was his only need. His tongue met mine, deep, hot, demanding. His hands slid down, gripping my hips, my body arching up to meet his. And that’s how we spent the day. In bed. Tangled. Breathing each other in. Between kisses and touches, between hoarse laughs and dirty whispers, he showed me every part of himself: the man, the hunger, the one who doesn’t ask permission. His body moved like a perfect machine built for pleasure. And I, lost between sighs and moans, stopped thinking. We didn’t go out. We didn’t eat. We didn’t talk about the world outside. That day was all skin, mouth, tongue, and gasps. And him, smiling like he already knew I was completely his.
Pinakabagong kabanata
Shared Desires 73. Shared Obsession.
Cat narrates.There are no screams. No shattered glass or slammed furniture. But the silence flowing from the hallway is even more brutal. The whole house seems to hold its breath as they finally face each other—no masks, no courtesy disguise, no hypocrisy of self-control. Their voices are low, tense, loaded with everything they didn’t say while they touched through me, while they competed with hands and mouths, while they loved without wanting to admit it hurt more than it aroused.“Do you want to possess her, or do you want to love her?” John asks, his voice deep, restrained, as if he can barely remain standing.“And you? Do you really love her, or do you just want to beat me?” Demon spits back, with that edge that sometimes caresses me like a dagger and other times cuts me without mercy.I’m on the stairs, tangled in a sheet, breathless. My heart pounds against my chest as if trying to escape this scene, but my legs don’t move. I stay there, drenched in what happened last night, my
Shared Desires 72. In My Bed, Under My Law
Narrated by John.I don’t care if last night was his turn.I don’t care if they made that ridiculous twenty-four-hour rule.I don’t care if he tied her up, if he talked dirty to her, if he tore moans out of her until dawn.Today is my day.My bed.My law.And I want her only for myself.I see her walking down the hallway, barefoot, wrapped in one of my shirts, her hair still damp from the shower. There are new marks on her thighs, on her neck. Some are mine. Many are not. And even though she smiles softly, as if nothing’s broken, I’m shattered inside.When she stops in front of me, I don’t say a word. I just grab her by the waist and lift her off the ground. She lets out a small sigh, a mix of surprise and anticipation, and clings to my shoulders as I carry her into my room—the one Demon is not supposed to cross today. I drop her onto the bed as if she were mine.Because she is.Even if she denies it with her lips, her body still remembers how my name sounds when she screams it betwee
Shared Desires 71. Someone’s Going to Break
Tension hangs in the air like the scent of a fresh wound.The beach house is too big, too perfect, and yet I feel every corner holds an echo of what we did last night. Of what we keep doing. Of what we can’t stop wanting, even knowing it will destroy us.I wake with my back pressed to John’s chest and my legs tangled with Demon’s, as if our bodies don’t know who they belong to, as if I haven’t been mine for days. As if they were two hells, and I was happy to burn in both.But today I need space. Air. Something more than skin and sweat and muffled moans.“Can we be alone for a while?” I whisper to John as he strokes my waist, as if he already knows I’m going to ask that.Demon says nothing. He gets up without looking at us, throws on some random shorts, and disappears down the hall. I hear him open a beer, even though it’s not yet noon. John looks at me. His face is a mix of affection and fatigue.“Of course,” he says. Kisses my forehead, as if we were still innocent.We sit on the ter
Shared Desires 7070. One Bed, Two Hells
I wake with skin stuck to dried sweat, my body still trembling inside though the air is unmoving. I’m between them, as if I were the sin that binds them. The sheet tangled around my legs, the golden sunlight slipping between the curtains, outlining the shape of their bodies: one breathes slow, almost absent, the other watches me with an intensity that disarms me. The air weighs more than my conscience.John kisses my shoulder with dangerous sweetness, as if nothing in the world had exploded, as if we weren’t broken inside. His breath grazes my collarbone, and that serene, almost tender gesture splits a crack in my chest. But Demon is not calm. Demon is an open wound. His hand slides up my thigh without asking, and his lips sink into my neck with a bite that isn’t a caress, it’s punishment, it’s a claim. And I say nothing. I don’t stop him.I can’t.We stay like this for minutes. Three bodies burning in a bed that no longer distinguishes love from war. My muscles still vibrate with las
Shared Desires 69. Guilty and Addicted
The press calls us depraved.On digital news sites, our faces are plastered under sensationalist headlines, cropped photos dripping with voyeurism, words trying to destroy what they don’t understand. “Sick threesome,” “immoral triangle,” “obsession of three bodies.”And yet, I see them now —see us— together, breathing the same air in this mansion by the sea, caught in a storm that isn’t meteorological but intimate, brutal, almost beautiful in its rawness.John’s house is a hidden jewel among the dunes: white marble, endless windows, the constant murmur of the ocean as background music. But no matter how luxurious it looks from the outside, it contradicts the electric tension that hums inside.I walk barefoot through the living room like a wounded animal, still wearing last night’s wrinkled dress, clinging to my skin like sweaty guilt. I bite my lip. I say nothing. My eyes are two storms spinning in opposite directions.John is leaning against the wall, silent, brow furrowed, fists cle
Shared Desires 68. Sin in Public
The lights at the gala are as bright as blades. Almost painful.The room is filled with perfect faces, dresses that shine brighter than the fake stars on the ceiling, and hollow smiles hiding sharp teeth.And there we are. John, in a suit black as a secret. Demon, with that razor-sharp arrogance in every step.Me, in the middle, wearing a red dress that feels more like a threat.“Don’t let go of me,” John whispers in my ear.His hand rests on the curve of my back—steady, but barely shaking.Demon circles us like a possessive shadow, never stopping his scan of everyone who comes near.The event is in his honor. Some charity thing, an art project, an excuse to prove that John Lambert isn’t just a billionaire CEO devouring his lovers—but also a generous, refined man, worthy of applause.But that illusion will last as long as a sigh.Because she’s here.“You see her?” Demon asks, voice like ice.“Yes,” I reply, without looking.I don’t have to. I can *smell* her. That sweet, poisonous ble
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