Louder.
“Lyra, come on! You’re gonna miss the whole entrance!”
He let go.
His c**k was still out.
I scrambled for my shirt. Barely got it on.
My p***y was leaking. My thighs wet. My lips pink and swollen and bruised from not even being kissed.
I opened the door.
Tasha was there, holding glitter heels and a mesh dress.
She blinked at me.
Then smirked.
“Did you nap or nut?”
I said nothing.
She held out the clothes.
“Come on. Let’s make you look like a whore.”
I looked back once.
Damon was still there.
Watching me go.
Still hard.
Still silent.
Still promising hell.
And I knew..tonight wasn’t over.
It hadn’t even f*****g started.
Pants
Tasha yanked me into her room before I could even catch my breath.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just kicked the door shut with her heel and turned toward the bed like this was just any other party prep.
It wasn’t.
Not for me.
Not after what just happened on the bathroom floor.
My p***y was still throbbing. My throat still wet with the taste of him. My insides were slick and hot and trembling like I’d been dipped in electricity and dragged across tile.
But Tasha had no idea.
She was humming.
Spinning in circles like a little demon fairy, grabbing shoes and gloss and n
And then she turned.
Held the dress up.
It wasn’t a dress.
It was barely a whisper. from the chaos of her bed.
Black mesh. Transparent. Stretchy/ Sleeveless. Two velvet straps where the cups should be. Slits that cut all the way up to the hip. No lining. No modesty. No mercy.
Her grin was f*****g evil.
“This,” she said, waving it, “is gonna make the Devil jealous.”
My breath hitched.
III
I was still dripping.
“You’re wearing this,” she continued, “with heels, gloss, no bra, no panties, and zero f*****g shame.”
I didn’t move.
She raised her brows.
“Don’t tell me you’re gonna b***h out now.”
I opened my mouth to argue, to say anything, but she didn’t wait.
“Strip.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Strip, baby girl. I’m dressing you up like the forbidden fantasy you are.”
My stomach dropped.
I hesitated.
Her eyes narrowed.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” she said, stepping closer.
“The way you walk around here like a wet dream with no clue how many people want to f**k you stupid? Please.”
Her voice dropped.
“You’ve got virgin t**s, Lyra. Perfect. Perky. Soft as hell. The kind men pray for. You’ve got this whole sweet-innocent-face but ‘ruin me’ body thing going on. And I swear to God, if you don’t let me show you off tonight, I’m disowning you.”
I stared at her.
Still frozen.
Still aching.
She gave me a look that was half threat, half worship.
“Take. The. Shirt. Off.”
My hands moved before my brain caught up.
I lifted it slow.
Over my head.
And when it dropped to the floor, I felt her eyes drag over every inch of skin I’d just exposed.
“Holy. Shit.”
Her voice was breathless.
Like she’d just seen something sacred.
She stepped closer.
Her fingers hovered near my chest but didn’t touch. Just circled,
“Your n*****s are so f*****g hard,” she whispered.
“Jesus, Lyra. Look at your t**s. They’re unreal.
I looked down.
They were flushed.
High.
Pink tips stiff and aching.
My skin was still warm from Damon’s touch.
My chest rose and fell with every breath I couldn’t fully catch.
“You have the kind of t**s people write porn about,” she said, eyes wide.
“Like..fuck, they’re heavy, but not saggy. Perfect handfuls. Your n*****s look edible. Are you kidding me?”
I covered them out of instinct.
She slapped my hands away.
“Don’t you dare.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.