All Chapters of Shared Desires: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The house is silent when they enter, one after the other, as if they already know something is about to explode. The walls seem to tense with every step, as though they too are holding their breath. Cat stands in the center of the room, barefoot, wearing a thin robe that barely covers her skin. She looks at John. Then at Demon. And she knows they can’t go on like this—throwing themselves into the abyss again and again without speaking, without understanding. She knows the next fall could be the last.Demon leans against the wall, arms crossed, with that insolent air that would normally make her smile. But not now. There’s no room for games.“Are you really going to keep up this farce?” he asks, eyeing John with a crooked grin. “You make her cry, then hold her. Is that love? Or just guilt?”John takes a deep breath, his knuckles white from clenching his fists.“And what do you offer, Demon? A quick fuck against a wall? Half-honest words between moans?” His voice trembles—not from fear,

The night smells like broken promises.The flashes blind me the moment I step out of the car, but I don’t stop. I glide forward like a breath wrapped in crimson silk, knowing every step I take leaves behind a trail of scandal in the air. My dress is a second skin: red, tight, sinfully daring. Every line reveals more than it hides. Every curve screams that I didn’t come here to ask for permission.And I’m not alone.Demon’s arm holds me with a firmness that betrays much more than just companionship. He walks beside me as if he’s presenting a trophy to the world. His smile is an open wound across his perfect face. Not for the cameras. Not for the guests. Just for me. That smile doesn’t say “I’m with her,” it says “she’s mine.”Heads turn, necks crane like they might snap. Some feign surprise, others envy, a few hunger. But I only have eyes for one man in the center of the room.John.Dressed in flawless black. The host of the gala. The perfect face for a perfect night. But when his eyes

The night smells of broken promises, of desire hidden beneath the makeup of a gala, of lies wrapped in black velvet.The moment I step out of the car, the flashes hit me like bursts of tiny explosions. I close my eyes for a second, inhale deeply, and walk. I glide as if my legs were pure music, as if the floor burned beneath my heels. The red dress clings to my body like a sinful, wet tongue, outlining every curve, celebrating every excess. There’s nothing innocent in the way I move. Nor in the way I look at him.Demon.He walks beside me, radiating that presence of his that fills the room, daring anyone to stare too long. His arm wraps around my waist like a constant reminder of who I belong to tonight. His heat seeps through the fabric, his scent wraps around me—a blend of sin and success—and that crooked smile he gives me, not for the cameras, not for the crowd, but only for me, grips me from the inside like he just slid a hand between my thighs with a single glance. He’s not walki

The city still pulses outside like an indifferent beast, its cold lights flickering, its background noise unable to be silenced. But in here, inside John’s quiet apartment, everything feels suspended in a strange stillness. Shadows wrap around everything—around the furniture, the corners—as if trying to shield it from the world. Only the soft blinking of the clock on the nightstand reminds us that time is still moving. Even though, inside here, it feels frozen. Just like him.I push open the half-closed door without making a sound. I don’t need to announce myself. I know he’s there. I feel him the way one feels a wound before seeing it: it throbs, it weighs, it hurts in the air. The atmosphere is thick, as if sadness had a scent, as if grief could be breathed.John doesn’t move. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. His bare back is curved as if it’s been carrying centuries of weight, and today, that weight finally collap

I’m so tired of this silence.A thick, electric, unbearable silence. The kind that announces a storm, that smells like gunpowder before the shot. John is sitting at one end of the couch, arms crossed, jaw clenched, not looking at me. Demon stands by the window, his back to everything, including me. His hand holds a glass he hasn’t touched. His whole body is sculpted tension.And I’m right in the middle. As always."Are you going to keep this up all night?" I ask softly, trying not to sound as broken as I feel.John doesn’t answer. Demon laughs. That sarcastic, cynical laugh he uses like a shield when something really hurts."Ask your boyfriend, babe," Demon says without turning. "Seems like he’s got a lot to say to me. Or to you. Right, John?"John clicks his tongue. Stands up abruptly. His presence fills the room. His gaze goes straight to Demon’s back."You want to know what I think? Fine. I think you’re a manipulative bastard," he spits, voice loaded and dangerous. "You know exactl