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It’s too much, too intense, and I can feel the pressure building, coiling tight in my gut, ready to snap. She can feel it, too, the way my body tenses, my hips bucking slightly against her mouth. But she doesn’t stop. She never stops. Instead, she goes even harder, her hand tightening, her mouth moving faster, her eyes locked on mine, watching, waiting for me to fall apart.
And when I do, it’s like the world shatters around me. The pleasure crashes over me in waves, each one stronger than the last, pulling me under, drowning me in the sensation. I can barely breathe, barely think, but she doesn’t let up, doesn’t pull away, milking every last drop, every last tremor, until I’m spent, leaning against the wall for support with my legs barely able to hold me up.
She finally pulls back, wiping the corner of her mouth with a satisfied smirk and her eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and something darker, something that matches the chaos swirling inside me. She stands, her movements slow and languid, as if she’s savoring the moment, letting it stretch out, letting the aftermath of what just happened settle between us.
I reach out, pulling her close, my hands sliding over her wet skin as I kiss her hard. I can taste myself on her lips. It’s mingled with the faint sweetness of the drugs still in our systems. It’s a raw, messy kiss, full of need and lust, something that burns hot and bright in the pit of my stomach. She responds with the same intensity, her hands gripping my shoulders and her nails digging into the tattoos along my back.
When we finally pull apart, both of us are breathless, our hearts pounding in time with each other. The water continues to beat down on us, the steam curling around our bodies, but it’s like background noise now, distant, irrelevant, just like everything else. Grabbing the bar of soap from the shelf, I lather my hands before washing her body from head to toe. She watches, her eyes following the movement of my hands as I spread the suds along her slick body. When I’m finished, I quickly wash myself down.
“Let’s get out of here,” she whispers, her voice rough, her breath hot against my ear.
“Okay,” I reply, my voice just as ragged. “Let’s go.”
We step out of the shower, the air cool against our heated skin, the drugs still coursing through us, making every movement feel slow, deliberate like we’re moving through a dream. But it’s a good dream, one that I don’t want to wake up from.
She wraps herself in a towel, her hair still damp, clinging to her neck in dark tendrils. I can’t take my eyes off her as I grab my own towel and wrap it around my waist. The way she moves and carries herself, it’s like she’s ready to take on the world tonight and burn it all down.
Shit, maybe we will.
We leave the bathroom, out of the haze of steam, and head toward the bedroom to get ready. Because tonight, we plan to lose ourselves in the darkness once more.
After our shower, I watched Tatum spend hours getting ready. Like a trance, I was unable to tear my eyes from her. Tonight, she’s wearing a short skirt that rides high on her thighs, leaving little to the imagination, and a tight black top that clings to her like a second skin. The neckline plunges low enough to make anyone stare. Her dark hair is straight, slicked back into a high ponytail that makes her look even more dangerous, like a predator on the hunt. There’s something about the way she dresses now, all sharp edges and bold choices, that makes me proud. She’s becoming more like me every day, and I can’t help but admire the transformation.
“How do I look?” she asks as she steps toward me. With my back pressed firmly against the door frame to her room, I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her in against me, and lower my head to the crook of her neck.
“Like you’re dressed to kill, my little lunatic,” I whisper as I inhale her sweet scent. She giggles, and fuck if it’s not a magical goddamn sound. Soft and sweet yet laced with a hidden darkness. I press soft kisses along her neck and up behind her ear as I pull her in against my chest.
“Stop,” she laughs, shoving me away, “If you keep kissing me like that, we won’t be going anywhere, and I worked way too hard to look this good for it to be wasted.”
She’s not wrong. Tatum always looks good, but tonight, fuck, she could kill just with her looks. I almost don’t want to take her out for anyone else to see, almost.
“Alright, then,” I add, pressing a kiss to her head, “Let’s go,” and with that, I release her. She slides on a pair of heels as I grab the keys to my car and we head out.
As we approach the club, the neon lights flickering in the distance, Tatum’s pace slows. She’s been quiet, too quiet, and I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves. Her hand clutches mine, but it’s not the usual, casual grip—it’s tight, almost desperate. I glance at her, noticing the way her eyes keep darting around like she’s searching for something, anything to calm the gnawing need inside her.
“Caius…” Her voice is soft, barely audible over the distant thump of the club’s music, but there’s an edge to it that catches my attention. She stops walking, pulling me to a halt with her. “I need… I need something. Just a little bit before we go in.”
I know what she means. I can see it in the way her pupils are blown wide, the slight tremor in her hands. She’s addicted now; the drugs have their claws deep in her, and she can’t shake it. Won’t shake it. And part of me likes it that way—likes that she needs it, needs me, to keep her steady.
I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small baggie of pills and powder we’ve been dipping into all week. Her eyes lock onto it, hunger flashing across her face, and she’s already reaching for it before I’ve even opened it.
“Easy,” I murmur, holding it just out of her reach momentarily, watching as her desperation flares. It’s a power trip, knowing she’s hooked, that she’s willing to beg for it if she has to. “You know I’ve got you.”
She nods, swallowing hard, her eyes wide and pleading as she waits. Her breath quickens with anticipation. “Please, Caius. Just a little. I need it. I can’t… I can’t go in there without it.”
Her words send a thrill through me, a dark satisfaction in seeing her this way, dependent on me, on the drugs. I take out a small pill and hand it to her. I watch as she snatches it with trembling fingers before popping it into her mouth and swallowing it dry. Her eyes flutter shut as she waits for it to kick in, for the edge to soften and the world to blur just enough to make it bearable.
I lean in, pressing my lips to her ear, my voice low and rough. “Feel better now, baby?”
She nods again, her breathing slowing as the drug begins to work its magic, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah… better. Much better.”
“That’s my good girl,” I reply, pulling back to look at her, satisfied with how her body relaxes and the tension melts away. “Now, let’s go have some fucking fun.”
She smiles, a twisted, eager grin that mirrors the darkness inside me, and I know we’re ready for whatever the night throws our way. We turn toward the club, the neon lights reflecting off the slick pavement, and I can already feel the music vibrating through the ground beneath us, calling us in.
We’re unstoppable together, and with the drugs in our system, we’re invincible.
Tatum’s in her element, moving to the beat like she’s part of it, her body swaying and her hips rolling. I’m right there with her, watching, touching, lost in the rhythm.
