𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯𝔰

Wild eyes shot open. From the excruciating car ride to the feel of his mouth against every part of her except where she wanted it most, frustration brimmed in her body to near cracking pressure, driving her hands to clamp around the sheets for support and her hips to buck. She knew what he was doing and more importantly, why. Because of Flynn and because of her. Without sex, she’d needed something to sharpen over the years and teasing had become just that. Sometimes, it was as if she could get off on it all on its own—- particularly when it came to Grey. It was funny and it was hot. Now on the receiving end, however, with his mouth taunting her cruelly given its proximity to her clit, she was practically dying. Jacqueline needed him. To touch her, to feel him and his lips, and to ultimately bring her to orgasm. If there was anyone who could make her see God, it was Grey. In fact, was it not for her pride, his torment would be enough to have her begging. Instead, Jacqueline met his gaze. She was soaking. She was hot. But it was this she liked most: the power struggle. “Fuck you.” It didn’t matter that the words were breathy and leaden with desire. Or that her head collapsed back onto the bed only a few seconds after. Or that she squirmed to try and feel what he was so sadistically denying her. All that mattered was that she had a million and one ways to get him back. God was a woman——— and so was the devil.

“No—“ he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get off on watching her struggle to contain herself. Her mouth may’ve said one thing but her body screamed another. There was no need for her to verbally beg for merciless relief. Watching her hips jut out, seeking desired friction with his mouth spelled out all it needed to. As did the annoyed outburst, cursing him. It made Grey chuckle against her clit, providing not only hot air this time but the retraction of a whimsical tongue, and hard to resist hypnotic vibration. It was a myriad of pleasure all rolled into one. “What—“ he reiterates the question slowly, mouth elevated above her sex now. She was so close he could practically taste her even without the physical connection. “do you—” His body crawls back over hers again, building a wall around each side of her head with his arms. “want, Jac?” The last piece of his puzzling question is nothing but a heavy pant against her lips. Grey gives her a moment to think it over, lips scaling her neck and perfectly round breasts in the meantime. Jac’s body was built like a myth. Its enchanting and supernatural. Whoever said perfection didn’t exist, clearly hasn’t met her yet and knowing Grey, they won’t ever get the chance to either. As established many times before tonight, he doesn’t like to share. Be that the only reason he’s punishing her and himself by prolonging what they both want. “Say it,” he groans, while peeling back the layer of her bra until both breasts spill out of their cups and he’s left with more skin he's desperate to taste, should she just cooperate. “Ask me again.” In case the question’s slipped her mind, Grey presses a thumb to her clit, applying pressure. Enough to pacify her but not enough to penetrate her or bring her to orgasm. Yet. “Let me have you. I’ll take you where you’ve never gone before. You’ll get so high, you’ll never want to come back down. But if you do, I’ll catch you.”

Max was taken aback by Celina’s answer. He’d fully expected her to have relayed the entire disaster to her mother… not keep it a secret in order to defend him. The realization pained him: that even at his worst, she’d protected him. It made him feel like shit. “Mia’s been trying to kill me since she was born,” he remarked, eyes rolling. “She’s almost succeeded a couple times, you know. Hit me on the head with a tire wrench once. I’m pretty sure I have CTE from that.” He turned to face Celina. “But you should’ve told your mom.” It was a quiet assertion and one that could confuse her. After all, he’d spent the past few minutes moaning and groaning about her mother wanting his head on a silver platter under the belief she knew what he’d done and now, rather than be relieved, he was the opposite. “She’ll find out eventually. Moms always do.” And when she did, Max wasn’t sure he could actually look her in the eye. Perhaps ever. To think of him at dinner with her, pretending as if he hadn’t abandoned Celina, only for Elena to realize the truth later on made him feel… scummy. There weren’t many things Max Pierce preferred to be honest about, but this was one of them. “Why didn’t you tell her?” He searched her face for an answer before looking down at Mia. “You don’t have to lie for me, Celina.” His voice was soft although he didn’t dare meet her gaze. “I know what I did.” He allowed the silence to fall between them, although he heaved a sigh quickly enough. He didn’t want to ruin the peace. “As for a dog,” he scoffed. “It’ll probably end up liking you more than me, so. Not sure I can handle that sort of betrayal.”

Nothing. He wanted nothing from Emira. Or rather, not anything of substance. She’d merely been there like Laura: someone to fill the void. Someone to use. Honestly, he had no idea why he was standing here now— why it was so important she understood it wasn’t her. Any other girl, it was doubtful he would’ve done more than a simple ‘sorry.’ For some reason, however, he wanted Emira to know she hadn’t done anything wrong. He shrugged softly. “Non lo so.”  He didn’t bother to defend himself. They both knew she was right. Alessio’s ability to treat people as dispensable was unparalleled. “I don’t want a relationship with you,” he said finally. “But I like hanging out with you. I think,” he hesitated. “We could be friends. Real friends.”

I don’t want a relationship with you. He knew what words to say to cut her deep, that’s for damn sure. Part of Emira had wondered what she had ever did to deserve it. Where exactly had she gone wrong? “That’s what people do in relationships, Ale. They hang out and they screw.” Which, is basically all they’ve done. “Besides, real friends take care of each other. They don’t use people to make themselves feel better. You hurt people because you can. Because, it just doesn’t matter to you. I was a toy for you to play with and now you’re over it because you found a new one. So quit saying you don’t know. That’s bullshit. If you’re gonna let me down, don’t do so easily.” She’d prefer it if, instead of crushing only some hopes, he crushes them all.                       

Romeo’s blood froze at the mention of the name. She’d been snooping. Irritation coursed through his body. Whatever relaxation the shower had provided him was now all but gone.“The pills.” He spoke the words for her. He knew what she was thinking; could read it on her face and frankly, she wasn’t off. It was a fake name used to get a very real prescription that he’d paid a doctor to give him. However, there was no need for Romeo to confirm her fears. That had never done either of them any good. “Christopher is actually named Evan Cardwell, a rich kid junkie friend from England. He asked me to pick up his prescription a couple days ago. Guess he got banned because the pharmacists were picking up on him. He paid some doctor to fill his prescription under Christopher Wells, but obviously he couldn’t pick it up himself. So he asked me. I was supposed to hand it over same day, but he never showed. Probably on some coke bender.” The words fell flawlessly from his lips. It was a reworked version of the truth. He’d inserted a character, added a couple details, and voila. He had his exit. One that grew bigger as he chose to flip the script on her. “What were you looking for in my drawer?”

“Okay.” Let’s say, she did believe him. It’s clear she’s skeptical but, for the sake of not jumping to conclusions, she was willing to play devil’s advocate instead. “Then, why hang onto it?” Why not get rid of it? What good is it if the person it’s intended for never receives it? “It was cold.” Least it had been, before she was caught under his heated scrutiny. “I needed to borrow a shirt while you were gone.” For her, it’s not nearly as grave as he makes it sound. Olivia’s intentions were always pure. He knew that probably better than anyone. “I wasn’t snooping. I didn’t know there was anything I needed to look for. Besides, I thought we were past that. The whole point of starting over and earning back trust is to tell each other everything. And I wasn’t aware you were dealing drugs.” Okay, so maybe that’s a little harsh and dramatic but it’s still a step up from calling him a drug mule. 

To say Ella had done some things she regretted would be an understatement. One of the things in that long list of regrets was running away from her marriage instead of staying and dealing with it. Now years after leaving she had finally come home because she knew they couldn’t live in this weird limbo anymore. It was time to settle their divorce so both of them could move on with their lives. “Yeah, a little farther than I think I’d like to be.” She responded, not really sure what she should expect. Ella had no idea how this conversation was going to go. “I came to see you, actually.”  

“Well, here I am.” Now what? He doesn’t know about her but he goes on about his business, moving wooden slacks onto his truck while she stands there, twiddling her thumbs. Some things never change. Least of all, he hasn’t. “Surprised you still know your way around here.”

about: mallory was born in the mob, her father is a nasty, crime boss with a lot of enemies. all of which she’s inherited too purely from sharing blood. 

suggestions: enemy, rival mob member, bodyguard, ex, arranged fiance, reporter, someone in law enforcement investigating her/her family, etc.

about: liz is 32, a photographer, and a total relationship-phobe.

suggestions: friend, ex, cousin, sibling, one night stand, client, etc.

plot: ainsley’s a bounty hunter who’s just been assigned to a job with your muse. the complication is; they’ve already slept together prior to being given the assignment so now it’s a little awkward.

plot based on: sweet home alabama / muse a returns home after reinventing themselves in a new city, only to obtain a divorce from muse b after seven years of separation.