All Chapters of Shared Desires: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Today is my birthday.And instead of feeling fulfilled, celebrated, or at peace, the first thing I notice when I wake up is that tight knot in my throat, like someone is tugging on an invisible thread tangled inside me. It’s happened my whole life. No matter how much I try to make the day feel special, to make it look different, there’s always a corner of me that feels alone.But this time, something’s different. Or rather… someone. Two bodies have taken my home as refuge and my bed as an emotional battleground. John sleeps on his side, one arm stretched out like he’s trying to touch me even in his dreams. Demon is on the couch, one leg dangling, snoring softly as if sins and jealousy and last night’s tension don’t weigh on him at all.I get up in silence. Wrap myself in a red silk robe and walk barefoot through the house. Everything is dim, but there are candles lit. Lots of them.A candle lit for me.A candle lit in my honor.I smile. Because they did this. Them. My two private stor

The morning smells of sleeping wine, melted candles, and desire drying on tangled sheets. My head aches, but my chest aches more. Not from a hangover, but from the tension still hanging in the air like expensive perfume—one of those that lingers even after a shower. John isn’t in the room. Neither is Demon. Just me, wrapped in the sheet, with the vivid memory of brushing bodies, shared moans, a candle lit by my own hand… and a stolen kiss between them that wasn’t just a fantasy fulfilled, but a spark tossed into gunpowder we still don’t know how to control.I walk barefoot down to the living room. The remains of the celebration are still there, almost obscene: half-empty glasses, the cake with our names written in chocolate—Demon did it with his finger and laughed like a mischievous child—and the necklace John gave me, forgotten on the table as if he too had wanted to forget everything.I see him on the terrace. He’s alone, shirtless, his gaze lost. A cup of cold coffee in his hands.

Dinner is served. Red wine in thin glasses, dim lights filtered through candles, the scent of rosemary floating in from the kitchen. But the silence weighs heavier than the atmosphere.“Aren’t you going to toast to me?” I ask, flashing a cheeky smile, looking at John to my right and Demon to my left.John forces a smile, raises his glass, and mutters a “belated happy birthday.” Demon laughs, but not like he usually does. His laugh lacks that teasing, provocative spark—it holds a coiled tension that stirs something between my legs and beneath my ribs.“Such enthusiasm,” I say, twirling the glass between my fingers, lips barely grazing the rim. “I should’ve asked you to kiss again. That seemed to turn you both on.”They both fall silent, stiff. Demon stares at John. John doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance, like he’s tired of playing this game.“Aren’t you tired of provoking, Cat?” John mutters, not looking at me.“No,” I reply, sipping my wine. “It gives me life.”Demon leans in, hi

Dawn refuses to arrive. Or maybe it’s us who refuse to let it come.The room remains in semi-darkness. The air smells of spent desire, of mingled sweat, of something newly born and already dangerous.I’m caught between them. Literally and metaphorically.John is leaning against the headboard. Demon lies at the other end, arms behind his head, watching us with that intense stare of his—sometimes hunger, sometimes threat.And me… I’m sitting on the bed, naked beneath the sheet, my heart pounding like I’ve stolen something.Because, in a way, I have.I’ve stolen them both."This can’t go on like this," John says. His voice is calm, but every word carries tension."Like what?" asks Demon, raising an eyebrow. He toys with the edge of the sheet. Cynical, but not cold. Never cold."With ambiguity. With silences. With half-truths.""You want us to be a happy threesome? With rules, chores, and Sunday brunch?" Demon replies, sarcastic but not amused.John looks at him. Doesn’t answer. He doesn’

The door opens without a sound.John enters unannounced.No message. No call.He came back early. Way too early.And the first thing he hears… is a muffled moan.He freezes. Barely breathes.The scene in front of him should enrage him. Should make him shout, storm out, do something. Anything.But he doesn’t.He stays still.Watching.Demon is on top of me.His bare torso a powerful shadow moving in a wild rhythm between my legs.My thighs are open.My mouth half-parted.His hands grip my hips like I already belong to him.—Shhh… —Demon whispers against my neck—. No one can hear. No one can know…Too late.John sees everything.The way I tremble under him.How my back arches when Demon licks my collarbone.How I look at him, lost.How I belong to him, even outside the game.And it hurts.It hurts more than he expected.But also… it turns him on.His fingers clench into fists, then relax.He doesn’t leave.Doesn’t speak.Just watches.More than he should.Longer than he should allow him