LOGIN(3 Weeks Before)
Ashley "Are you sure your man is okay with this?" Diamond murmurs against my skin, her lips brushing my throat as our bodies grind in rhythm under the strobe lights. Her hands roam, bold and warm, as the bass pulses through the floor—and through me. The air inside the club smells like smoke, sex, and alcohol. And the lights scatter across our skin like glitter-drenched sin. I tilt my head just enough to catch sight of Gray in the corner booth. Drink in hand. Arm draped across the backrest like a throne built just for him. That dark, unreadable expression of his locked directly on me, watching like I'm the only thing that exists in this whole damn place. He doesn't blink. Doesn't smile. Just drinks me in with that gaze that strips me bare and sets every nerve in my body on fire. A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at my lips. "Oh, he's more than okay with it," I purr, arching into her touch, fully aware that every grind, every kiss, every teasing little moan is just for him. Grayson Bennett—president of the Crimson Reapers, my best friend Alyssa's older brother, and the man I've been messing around with for the past nine months—doesn't exactly come with a label. Mostly because he's still technically married to the wife who ghosted him nearly a year ago. But I've been on the back of his bike. I've been to the clubhouse. And he sure as hell doesn't complain when I tag along—or climb into his bed. Six months ago, I realized I was bisexual. Not a groundbreaking revelation or anything—I'd always suspected it—but growing up with ultra-religious grandparents meant I didn't exactly get the space to explore it. Especially not with girls. Which is ironic, really. Probably would've been less drama sneaking girls into the house than hopping fences to meet up with tattooed bad boys who smelled like weed and Axe body spray. The first time I ever slept with a woman, it was at a sex club with Gray. Actually, the one War opened shortly after his almost-thing with Alyssa. There was this sexy-ass Latina dancer spinning on a pole in front of us, all curves and confidence, and she invited me up to dance with her. I said yes without thinking. And the second I felt Gray's eyes on me—hungry, possessive, challenging—my whole body lit up. So, I pushed it. Took it a step further. I kissed her. Right there on stage, with the lights catching the shimmer of our lipstick and our hands exploring each other's bodies. The moment was electric. My pussy ached with need. And all I could think about was him fucking both of us. And that's exactly what happened. We ended up in a private room and spent hours fucking like we were trying to burn the sheets off the bed—his hands and mouth everywhere, his cock switching between our dripping pussies as we moaned, gasped, and screamed his name like a prayer we wanted answered all night long. And he sure as fuck delivered. I thought I'd be jealous, watching him with another woman—but he gave us exactly what we needed, and we weren't shy about giving it right back to each other. Let's just say... there were plenty of orgasms to go around. Now? Threesomes are kind of our thing. Not every weekend or anything, but often enough that it doesn't feel dirty anymore. And honestly? Even if Gray and I ever made things official, I don't think I'll stop. As long as the other woman knows the rules—he's mine. Gray knows the second I say my safe word, everything stops. No questions. No exceptions. And so far? I've never had a reason to doubt he'll honor that every damn time. I grab Diamond's hand and lead her off the dancefloor, weaving through the crowd until we reach Gray's booth. He leans back in the chair, arms still draped over the backrest, and spreads his legs just a little wider when he sees us approach. His eyes rake over her with slow, deliberate interest. "Who's this?" he asks, tilting his head. The low roughness of his voice makes my pussy clench. I smirk, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she blushes under his gaze. "This is Diamond. She wants to play with us." His lips twitch, dark with approval. "Good. Show her what I like, sweetheart." "Yes, Sir." I lean in, my lips grazing the shell of her ear as I whisper, "Get on your knees and take out his cock." She shivers, her breath catching in her throat, before slowly sinking to the floor in front of him. Gray doesn't move. He just watches her—calm, composed, in complete control—like he's already got the entire scene mapped out in his head and he's just waiting for us to catch up. Diamond's hands tremble as she reaches for his belt. I guide her with a firm hand on her shoulder, grounding her. The second his cock springs free, she gasps. And yeah, that's the correct reaction. I remember the first time I saw it too. How it made my mouth water. How it still does. Gray's eyes flicker to me, heat simmering behind them as his voice drops lower. "Your turn." I drop to my knees beside Diamond. She shifts just enough to make room, her fingers gripping the base of his cock. I lean in, wrapping my lips around the crown, sucking slow and steady—just enough pressure to make him groan, deep and guttural. His cock twitches, slick with my saliva now, and I gently guide it toward Diamond's mouth. She opens for him eagerly, her lips closing around his tip as I slide lower, dragging my tongue along the thick vein running the length of his shaft. "Fuck," Gray hisses, his jaw tightening as his fingers dig into the chair beneath him. My lips curl into a smirk. I know he's fighting the urge to grab my hair, but he won't. Because we've had that conversation. I already warned him: don't touch a Black woman's hair unless you're trying to start a fight you won't win. And I just got my hair braided. I didn't sit for six damn hours just to let a man fuck up my edges. Diamond moans around his cock, messy and eager, her tongue working the top half of his huge cock while I trail wet kisses down the base, licking where her lips can't reach. Gray's breathing gets heavier, his thighs tensing beneath our touch. "Look at you," I murmur, brushing her hair back so I can see her wrecked face. "Taking him so well." She whimpers, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine, and I feel the sharp spike of power twist low in my gut. I fucking love this. Love having him stretched out in front of me, fighting to stay still. Love watching another woman come undone while I keep the reins. I wrap my hand tighter around the base of his cock, Diamond's saliva dripping on me as I suck on Gray's balls, flicking my tongue over them. His hips jerk, and a deep groan rips from his throat. "Goddamn," he growls, losing control more by the second. "You're gonna make me come before either of you take your panties off." I glance up at him, grinning wickedly. "Then maybe you should stop us." He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. Because he loves this just as much as I do. Gray sets his drink down, his eyes still locked on me—like we're the only ones in the room, even though the bass is thumping and half the club is watching with barely disguised hunger. Let them. We're not the only ones fucking in here tonight, and it's not like we don't enjoy putting on a show. Another kink I didn't realize I had... until recently. Gray pulls a fistful of Diamond's hair and drags her off his cock with a wet pop. She gasps for air, her lips swollen, drool glistening on her chin and dripping down her chest. "Sweetheart," he says, his voice all grit and command, "get on the table." My body moves before my brain can catch up, heat flashing down my spine as I climb up. "Diamond," he adds, his eyes never leaving mine. "Take off her panties. Real fuckin' slow. Then eat my girl's pussy while I stroke my cock and watch." Goddamn. Yes. Please. And as I settle on the table, skin flushed, pulse racing, I know one thing for sure—whatever this thing is between Gray and me, I'm not ready to let it go. Not even close. Especially not with him watching me like he owns every inch of my body. And even if his wife does come back? I'm not giving him up without a goddamn fight.Alyssa"Alyssa, did you hear me?"I blink, my focus snapping back into place as Ashley throws back another shot of tequila like she's racing the clock.Jesus. We've been at Rapture for maybe thirty minutes, and she's already locked into a spiral. Whatever went down back at the house is still clinging to her, heavy and unspoken.I have no idea what it is yet.But she didn't drag us out tonight just to avoid packing or kill time. She came to forget.And every instinct I have tells me Gray's the reason.Which means I'll have to wait her out until she's drunk enough to talk.And with her tolerance, that might take the entire fucking night."I can't believe the guys let you go out without throwing a big-ass fit about it," Chelsea teases, sliding the straw between her lips and taking a slow sip of her strawberry margarita.I take a long drink of water, the coolness grounding me. "I know. I honestly thought they would, especially since I've never been to a club before. But... they didn't
Grayson"Prez, your woman's demanded I drive her to some nightclub. You good with that?" Luther's voice crackles through my earpiece, loud enough to grate against the headache already thumping at the base of my skull.I chew slowly on a piece of licorice, eyes fixed on the photos Mason sent me this morning.Three male bodies.What's left of them, anyway.Hands and feet sawed off. Faces gone—literally carved away—nothing but mangled bone and pulp where features should be.My jaw ticks as I flip to the next image. Same brutality. Same signature. Same deliberate precision.Whoever did this didn't just want them dead.This was a message.But the real question is...a message to who?And does it tie back to the trafficking ring—or is this some new bullshit we have to deal with?I drag the licorice from between my teeth, forcing my voice steady. "What the hell does she need to go there for?"She called me this morning. Said she was spending the day unpacking.It's been a week since she moved
Ashley"Luther, can you bring that big-ass box in here?" I holler, half-bent over another one stuffed to the brim with every type of shoe you could think of.He grunts something from down the hall—probably a yes, probably a complaint, probably both—but I don't even look up. I'm too busy trying to untangle a pair of heels that somehow braided themselves together like they were planning a jailbreak.It's been a week since I officially moved in with Gray.Seven days.One hundred and seventy-something hours.A blur of filming content for my socials, pretending I haven't been living out of duffel bags my whole adult life since my grandparents kicked me out, and jumping my man's bones the second he walks through the door like he just came back from war.And between all that?I've been tackling this mountain one cardboard box at a time.I swear, I had no idea I owned this much shit.Like—none.When everything was tucked in my little apartment, it seemed manageable. Then Gray had it all packe
King"Quit splashin' me, kid," I mutter, trying to block another wave of bathwater as Eden kicks like she's in training for the goddamn Olympics.She squeals—high, defiant—a baby-sized fuck you. And I can't even be mad.She's mine. Chaos wrapped in pink skin and ten perfect fingers.Her eyes—my eyes—lock on me, bright and wild, already knowing she's had me wrapped around her finger since the second she came screaming into this world.There's so much raw, untainted life in her it damn near hurts to look at. Innocence like that doesn't survive long where I come from. And I'll burn the world down before I let that toxicity touch her.No one lays a hand on my girls.And if they try?They'll die choking on the same hand that built their coffin.The vow settles heavy in my chest as I lift Eden from the tub, wrapping her in a towel almost bigger than she is. She's warm, slippery, and smells like soap and that built-in baby scent that smells like fucking heaven.I carry her into the bedroom.
AshleyWhile Alyssa's off somewhere giving her men the verbal beatdown they've had coming, I slide up to the bar and ask Nina for a Marionberry Mule.I've been trying to chill on the day drinking—especially after that wild night with Daisha—but my nerves are shot. It's not a great look, showing up to every crisis with a cocktail in hand. Still, the quiet's too damn loud, and I need something to take the edge off.Gray still isn't back. No text. No call. No clue what the hell he's doing.And I still don't know if I'm actually supposed to be moving into his place today... or if that "pack a bag" text was just his smooth-ass way of telling me I'm getting dicked down all weekend.Either way, it's killing me—not hearing from him, not seeing him. Feels like I'm stuck halfway between waiting and wanting, and neither one feels good. "You good, sugar?" Nina asks, already reaching for another shaker before I've even finished the first.I give her a slow look over the rim of my glass. "Do I loo
Alyssa"You ready?" Ashley asks as we pull into the clubhouse lot. Morning slices across chrome—King's, Niko's, and Mason's bikes parked in perfect formation, metal flashing like teeth. The air is crisp, a raw mix of exhaust and wet leaves that smells like trouble waiting to happen. Of course, Gray's bike is nowhere in sight. He's probably off handling whatever chaos couldn't wait until nightfall. Typical.That means Ashley won't get the confrontation she came for.Fine. I'll chew my men out solo.My hands grip the steering wheel until my knuckles go white. If what Ashley told me is true—if there really is a trafficking ring in our town—keeping it from me wasn't protection.It was betrayal. Plain and simple.Did they honestly think I couldn't handle it? That pretending I was fragile somehow made me safer?After everything I've fought through, everything they know about me, they should know better. Ashley's right. I was born into this life.This MC runs in my blood. Time to remind







