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35. The Truth and the Fire
Last Updated:
2025-08-05 03:25:31
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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
Shared Desires 67. The Past Returns with Blood
The sea still smells like calm, but something in the wind has shifted. It’s a whisper behind every wave, a warning you can’t hear—but feel. Demon senses it first. I see it in his clenched jaw, in the way he checks his phone like he's expecting a gunshot, not a message.Like every vibration might be a detonation about to go off.John watches him from the edge of the terrace, fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass he hasn’t tasted.I’m in the middle. As always.Like a crack between two worlds that love and fear each other all at once.The notification chime slices through the silence. Demon reads it, and his lips tighten. His pupils shift. He’s no longer the man who makes me tremble with just a glance—he’s the predator, now, smelling blood in the air.“Who’s texting you?” John asks. Calm. Still. But battle-ready. It’s in his knuckles, white with tension.“Photos,” Demon mutters, not looking at him. “From years ago. Places no one should remember. People who are dead… or should b
Shared Desires 66. Paradise Burns Too
The sound of the sea doesn’t stop—not when we close the doors, not when we fall silent. It’s always there, a steady breath, a warm, wet caress that seeps through every crack in this beach house. Remote, modern, dressed in white and salt, with windows that open to a world with no cameras, no scandals. At least for now.“I love this place,” I whisper, lifting my glass of wine while Demon buries his feet in the sand, and John—like always—watches from the shadows with a glass of whiskey and something in his eyes I can’t quite name. Jealousy? Worry? Maybe both.There are no rules here. No phones. No plans. Just us. Three bodies that crave each other as much as they fear each other.Evening falls like sweet lava over our skin. Demon’s blindfolded me, and his fingers are dragging ice cubes across my stomach while I lie back on a wooden lounger near the fire we just lit. I feel heat on my back, cold on my ribs, and his breath—laced with rum—as he leans in to kiss below my collarbone.“Say a s
Shared Desires 65. Three Against the World
It’s not that the world has turned crueler.It’s that now I feel it on my skin. In every glance. Every notification.And no matter how hard I try to hold myself together, today I feel like I’m about to break.I’m sitting in the middle of the living room, legs tucked beneath me, wearing only John’s white shirt—too big for my body, too soaked in his scent. Demon’s in the kitchen, growling about the press camped outside the building. John just ended another call with his legal team.And me... I just want the universe to shut the hell up.“They’re going to tear us apart,” I whisper—not trying to be dramatic, but my throat tightens from pure fear.John lifts his gaze. His eyes are tired, but he looks at me like I’m the only thing that still matters.Demon walks in with a glass of wine, offers it to me. His way of caring. Of taming his rage.He sits beside me, and when his fingers graze my thigh, it’s not just desire.It’s need.“They won’t win,” Demon murmurs, that rough voice of his crack
Shared Desires 64. The Enemy with the Pretty Face
I don’t like this feeling. That quiet pressure crawling under my skin, like a premonition wearing expensive perfume and sharp nails.John hasn’t come home since this morning. Demon is restless, but pretending not to be. And me... my nerves are caught tight in my throat. Because I know Sasha doesn’t just disappear.And I’m right.I find out by accident, through his assistant. That a woman—“tall, dazzling, with a smile like a '90s movie star”—showed up at John’s office without an appointment. Claimed to be a journalist for a French magazine. Mentioned some sort of collaboration with his company. And somehow, John let her in.My stomach tightens.But I don’t call. I don’t run.Because John knows how to fight his own battles.Though I’m not sure how clean he’ll come out of this one.JohnHe walks into his office with steady steps, already knowing who’s waiting for him.And there she is.Sitting in his leather chair like it’s the throne she always wanted. Dressed in white. Blonde hair perf
Shared Desires 63. Photos, Lies & Scandals
I’m not the type to be easily shaken. I can smile while the world burns around me, legs crossed, lipstick untouched.But today… today my hands are trembling.I’m sitting on the bed, robe half-open, phone glowing between my fingers. The screen shows a post from an anonymous account—the kind that reeks of expensive gossip and bitterness disguised behind filters. And there we are. The three of us. On John’s rooftop, caught between glasses and touches, the soft glow of sunset gilding my bare skin.The image is perfect… and devastating.The comments are a mix of morbid fascination and hypocritical disgust.“Isn’t that the same girl from the charity event with Lambert?”“Demon Knight in another sex scandal?”“And this trio? Does Hollywood have no limits?”I take a deep breath, fight off the nausea. Not from shame. From rage. From the invasion.And because I know exactly who did this.“Sasha…” I whisper her name like a curse, ready to spit it in her face.Demon’s not home. Neither is John. I
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