Semua Bab Shared Desires: Bab 71 - Bab 80

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

Cat narratesThe house is silent, and yet I feel an internal roar that doesn’t stop—a subterranean tremor born in my chest with no way out, a kind of suspended anxiety, as hot and dense as the desire consuming me. I know he’s close. I sense it in the charged air, in the scent of the storm his absence left behind, in the way the sea seems to stir only to announce his return. And when the door finally opens, when his silhouette cuts against the soft evening light and his eyes find me as if everything else vanished, there are no words. Only his presence, his slow stride, that fire burning behind his gaze like a soft threat, like a promise.John says nothing. He doesn’t need to. Because that look he gives me—dark, intense, thick as red wine—already undresses me, already touches me, already punishes and forgives me at the same time. I move toward him without thinking, without breathing, my heart pounding in my throat as if it might burst, as if everything in me were screaming his name. But

Night falls over the house like a thick shroud, and the air is so charged it feels like it could ignite with a single spark. I sink into the couch, legs crossed, my gaze drifting from John to Demon, feeling their eyes travel over me as if assessing every inch, every gesture, every breath. There’s something intoxicating about having them like this—so close, so ready to compete—and though I know it’s dangerous to provoke this kind of tension, I can’t resist the idea of watching them face off for me.“I want to play,” I say, my voice low and slow, as if each word were a caress. “But not just any game… one that will test us.”John raises an eyebrow, always so composed even when he suspects I’m about to get him into trouble. Demon, on the other hand, leans forward as if he’s already inside the game without needing the rules.“What kind of test?” John asks, and I catch in his tone that mix of caution and curiosity that pulls me in every time.“A simple one,” I reply, letting my lips curl in

The storm hammers against the windows as if it wants to tear us out of the uncomfortable silence John and I have fallen into for hours, and it’s in the middle of that heavy noise, thick with electricity and salt, that I see Demon pull up his hood, cross the room without looking at me, open the door and leave, as if the sea were calling him with a cry only he could hear; I don’t think, I don’t weigh the consequences, I simply get up, feel the cutting cold on my bare feet, and follow him—because his sudden absence hurts more than any storm. The sand is cold, soaked, sinking under my steps as the rain slaps my face and drenches my hair, making it heavy, sticky, but the image of him—running like a wounded animal, his T-shirt plastered to his broad back, every muscle traced by water—pulls me forward; I catch up to him near the pier, and when I turn to face him, there’s a light in his eyes that doesn’t come from the lightning, but from something burning inside. “You shouldn’t follow me,”

John doesn’t shout, doesn’t look at me with rage, doesn’t throw at me any of those phrases that could cut sharper than a knife; he simply picks up his jacket, slings it over his shoulder, and in a tone so calm it hurts more than any insult, he says:—I can’t keep looking at you as if it didn’t hurt me.The door closes behind him, and I feel every click of the lock embed itself into my skin like a cold needle.I stay in the silence, with Demon a few steps behind me, staring at my back as if he could pierce my skin and read everything I’m not saying. I don’t turn around. Not yet. Because if I look at him, I’ll fall again—and right now, I don’t know if falling into him is salvation or poison.When I finally do turn, Demon approaches slowly, his hands catching my arms with just enough strength to hold me without hurting me. His gaze is burning, but his voice is soft, as if he were afraid of breaking me:—Cat… look at me.And I do, though my eyes are already clouded and tears start burning