EMS

tonight's charity gala had been a masterpiece of social maneuvering. eleanor had kept you close all evening, her hand on the small of your back, her lips brushing your ear as she introduced you to donors and dignitaries. every touch was deliberate, every glance a silent claim. you'd felt the weight of her gaze across crowded rooms, followed the heat of it like a tether.

but it hadn't been just the usual possessiveness tonight. there had been something sharper in her eyes, something hungrier. maybe it was the way you'd laughed at something a handsome young trustee had said, your hand touching his arm in a gesture of polite gratitude. maybe it was the way you'd danced with one of her business associates, your body swaying to the music, completely unaware of how beautiful you looked under the chandeliers.

whateverit was, eleanor had been watching you all night like a woman starved.

“how are you feeling?” she asked, her voice low, cutting through the comfortable silence.

“exhausted,” you admitted, leaning your head against her shoulder. “but happy. tonight was wonderful.”

“was it?” her fingers stilled on your thigh, and she turned to look at you. the streetlights cast shifting shadows across her face, illuminating the intensity in her eyes. i saw you with carson.”

“your accountant?”

“my very handsome accountant, apparently.” her tone was light, but there was an edge beneath it. “you two seemed to be getting along.”

you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “jealous, eleanor?”

her jaw tightened, and she turned away, staring out the window. “i’m not jealous. i’m observant.”

“mhmm.” you shifted closer, your hand sliding up her arm. “and what did you observe?”

“i observed you laughing at his jokes. touching his arm. letting him lean in close." her voice dropped, a rough whisper. “i observed the way he looked at you, like he was imagining taking you home.”

“and did that bother you?”

she didn't answer immediately. the limousine turned a corner, the hotel coming into view—a towering beacon of glass and steel, its lobby glowing warm and golden through the rain. eleanor's fingers resumed their movement on your thigh, but this time they dug in slightly, a possessive squeeze.

“i spent three hours imagining all the ways i was going to remind you exactly who you belong to,” she said finally, her voice barely above a murmur. “starting the moment we got to our room.”

your breath caught in your throat. “that sounds like a long three hours.”

"it was.” she turned to you, her eyes dark and burning. "it made me very, very eager to get you alone.”

the limousine pulled up to the hotel entrance, and a valet opened your door. eleanor was out before you could move, her hand extended to help you out. the rain had eased to a gentle mist, but still she held an umbrella over you both as you walked into the lobby, her arm around your waist, her body shielding yours from the damp night air.

the hotel was everything you'd expected—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, the quiet hum of wealth and discretion. the concierge greeted eleanor by name, handing her a key card with practiced deference. she guided you to the elevator, her hand never leaving your back, her fingers pressing into the small of your spine as the doors slid closed.

the ride up was silent, charged. eleanor stood close behind you, her breath warm on your neck, her hands finding your hips. she didn't kiss you, didn't touch you anywhere intimate, but the proximity alone had your heart racing, your skin tingling.

the elevator doors opened onto the top floor. the hallway was quiet, thickly carpeted, lined with doors that held secrets behind their polished wood. eleanor led you to the end of the hall, her steps sure and steady, and unlocked the door to your suite.

the room was breathtaking.

floor-to-ceiling windows dominated the far wall, offering a panoramic view of the manhattan skyline—lights glittering like scattered diamonds, the rivers winding darkly through the city, the distant hum of traffic muted by the double panes of glass. the suite itself was a masterpiece of modern luxury: a king-sized bed draped in white silk, a seating area with plush velvet couches, and a bathroom visible through an archway, its marble floors gleaming under soft amber lighting.

but your eyes were drawn immediately to the corner of the bathroom, visible through the open archway: a massive hot tub, its surface steaming gently, surrounded by candles and fresh flowers. petals were scattered across the water, and the jets hummed softly, already warm and waiting.

“i had them prepare it before we arrived.” eleanor murmured, her hand sliding up your arm.

“you planned this?” you asked, turning to face her.

she smiled, slow and wicked. “i plan everything.”

she stepped closer, her hands finding your waist, her body pressing against yours. her lips brushed your ear, her voice dropping to a whisper. “i’ve been thinking about this all week. getting you alone.”

her hands moved to the zipper of your gown, and she pulled it down with agonizing slowness. the fabric loosened, slipping off your shoulders, and she pushed it down your arms, letting it pool at your feet. you stood before her in nothing but lace—a matching set you'd chosen specifically for tonight, knowing she would see it.

she stepped back, her eyes tracing over you like a woman studying a masterpiece. her gaze lingered on the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts, the way the lace clung to your skin. she reached out, her fingers brushing over your stomach, trailing up to trace the edge of your bra.

“beautiful,” she breathed. “every time i see you like this, it takes my breath away.”

“your turn,” you said, reaching for the clasp of her gown.

she let you undress her with the same slow reverence she'd shown you. her gown fell away, revealing the lean, sculpted body beneath—the muscles of her shoulders and arms defined from years of archery, the soft curve of her breasts, the strength in her thighs. she wore black lace as well, matching yours, and you realized with a start that she must have planned it.

“did we match on purpose?” you asked, your fingers tracing the edge of her bra.

“i may have made a suggestion when i chose your lingerie,” she admitted, a rare flush creeping up her cheeks. “i wanted us to be... coordinated.”

you pulled her into a kiss, deep and slow, your tongues meeting in a familiar dance. her hands slid down your back, gripping your ass, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. when you broke apart, both breathless, she took your hand and led you toward the bathroom.

the hot tub was as decadent as it had promised to be—large enough for four, its water steaming and fragrant with jasmine and something floral. candles flickered around its perimeter, casting dancing shadows across the marble. eleanor stepped in first, her body disappearing into the water, and turned to offer you her hand.

“come here," she said softly.

once you both were completely bare, you took her hand and stepped in, the warmth enveloping you like a embrace. the water came up to your chest as you settled across from her, the jets pulsing gently against your back. steam rose around you, misting the mirrors, blurring the edges of the room.

for a moment, you just looked at each other. the water lapped at your skin, the candles flickered, and the city glittered beyond the windows. eleanor's face softened, the intensity of the night melting away, replaced by something tender and vulnerable.

“i love these moments,” she said quietly. “just us. no crowds, no expectations, no games.”

“just us,” you echoed.

she moved through the water, closing the distance between you. her legs bracketed yours as she settled in front of you, her hands finding your thighs beneath the surface. she pulled you closer, until you were straddling her lap, the water sloshing gently around you both.

her lips found your neck, trailing hot kisses along your pulse point. her hands slid up your sides, over your ribs, cupping your breasts. her thumbs circled your nipples, and you gasped, your hips pressing against hers.

“i want to take my time with you,” she murmured against your skin. “i want to explore every inch of you. i want to make you forget anyone else exists.”

“you already have,” you breathed.

she smiled against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. “good. but i’m going to make sure.”

her hands moved lower, sliding down your stomach, pausing at the waistband of your wet lace panties. she looked up at you, asking permission without words. you nodded, and she slipped her fingers inside of you, finding you slick and ready.

“god,” she groaned, her forehead pressing to yours. “you're so wet. Is this all for me?”

“all for you,” you confirmed, your voice trembling as her fingers circled your clit.

she worked you slowly at first, teasing, building pressure with lazy circles and occasional dips inside you. the hot water enveloped you both, steam rising around your faces, the jets humming against your lower back. every touch was amplified, every sensation heightened by the warmth and the intimacy of the moment.

but eleanor was never one to take things slow for long. her fingers quickened, pressing deeper, curling inside you with practiced precision. her other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady against her as she drove you higher.

“that’s it,” she whispered. “let me feel you. let me hear you.”

you couldn't hold back the sounds that escaped your lips—soft moans, desperate gasps, her name falling from your mouth like a prayer. the water sloshed around you as you moved against her hand, chasing the pleasure building low in your belly.

“i’m s-so close,” you gasped. “eleanor, i’m—“

“cum for me,” she commanded, her voice low and rough. “i want to feel it. i want to taste it in the water.”

you release broke over you like a wave, crashing through your body with a force that left you trembling. you cried out, your back arching, your thighs clamping around her hand as you pulsed against her fingers. but didn't stop, working you through every spasm, her lips pressed to your shoulder in a possessive kiss.

when you finally relaxed, breathless and boneless against her, she pulled her hand from the water. even in the dim candlelight, you could see the glisten on her fingers, the proof of your arousal mixing with the water droplets. she brought them to her lips, tasting you slowly, her eyes never leaving yours.

“you’re so perfect,” she said, her voice thick with desire. “but i’m not quite done with you yet.”

she guided you off her lap, helping you stand in the water. the jets continued their gentle hum, the steam rising around you. she stood as well, water streaming off her body, and took your hand.

“out,” she said softly. “i want you on the bed.”

she helped you out of the hot tub with surprising gentleness, her hands steadying you as you stepped onto the cool marble floor. she grabbed a plush towel and dried you off with slow, deliberate strokes—your arms, your back, your legs, your stomach. each pass of the towel was a caress, her fingers lingering on your skin.

then she took your hand and led you to the bed.

the sheets were cool and smooth against your heated skin as she guided you onto your back. she positioned you in the center of the bed, her hands spreading your thighs apart, her eyes drinking in the sight of you—still wet from the water, still trembling from your release, already aching for more.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured, her fingers tracing through your folds, gathering your slickness.

she reached over to the nightstand, pulling out a harness and a silicone strap—dark, veined, perfectly sized. you watched as she strapped it on, her movements efficient and practiced, the leather of the harness hugging her hips. she adjusted it once, twice, making sure it was secure, then turned back to you.

the sight of her like that—naked, wet, the strap standing proud against her pelvis—sent a fresh wave of heat through you. she climbed onto the bed, positioning herself between your legs. the head of the strap pressed against your entrance, teasing, not pushing in yet. she leaned down, kissing you deeply, her tongue sliding against yours.

“tell me what you want,” she breathed against your lips.

“you,” you whispered. “inside me. now.”

she smiled, slow and dark, and then she pushed in.

the stretch was perfect—filling you completely, the silicone slick with your own arousal. she bottomed out with a low groan, her forehead pressing to yours, her breath ragged.

“god, you feel incredible,” she murmured. “so tight. so perfect.”

she began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that had you gripping the sheets. her hips rolled against yours, the strap hitting spots that made stars burst behind your eyes. she watched your face, drinking in every expression, every moan, every gasp.

“is this what you wanted?” she asked, her voice strained. “after all that teasing tonight, all those looks from him—did you want me to fuck you like this?”

“god, yes.” you managed, your voice breaking as she thrust deeper. “yes, eleanor, yes.”

she increased her pace, her hand sliding down to rub your clit in firm circles. the dual stimulation was overwhelming—the fullness of the strap fucking into you, the pressure on your clit, the sight of eleanor above you, sweat glistening on her skin, her eyes locked on yours.

“you’re ine,” she growled, her rhythm quickening. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you gasped. “god, eleanor, i’m yours.”

“cum again,” she commanded, her voice husky and raw. “cum on my cock. i want to feel you squeeze around me.”

your climax tore through you, a violent, shuddering release that had you crying out her name. your walls clenched around the silicone, your body arching off the bed. eleanor groaned, fucking you through it, her rhythm faltering as she watched you fall apart.

but she didn't stop. she kept moving, kept thrusting, drawing out your pleasure until you were gasping for breath, sensitive and trembling. only when you finally stilled, your body limp and spent, did she slow down, easing out of you with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of the previous moments.

she pulled the strap off, setting it aside, and lay down beside you. for a long moment, neither of you spoke. the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

then she pulled you into her arms, her body curling around yours, her lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your forehead. she wrapped the sheet around you both, cocooning you in warmth and comfort.

“are you okay?” she asked softly, her hand stroking your hair.

“more than okay,” you murmured, your voice drowsy. “that was... incredible.”

she smiled, kissing your temple. “you were incredible. i love watching you come apart for me.”

you shifted, turning in her arms to face her. her eyes were soft now, the intensity faded, replaced by something tender and adoring. she looked almost vulnerable like this, her guard down, her walls lowered.

"I love you," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

her breath caught. for a moment, she just stared at you, her eyes searching yours. then she smiled, a real smile, full of warmth and wonder.

“i love you too,” she whispered. “more than i thought i could love anyone.”

she kissed you then, soft and slow, a kiss that said everything words couldn't. when she pulled back, her hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb tracing over your cheekbone.

“i know i get possessive," she said quietly. "i know i can be... intense. but it's only because i’m terrified of losing you. you’re the best thing that's ever happened to me."

“you’re not going to lose me,” you assured her, your hand covering hers. “i’m not going anywhere.”

she closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. she pulled you closer, burying her face in your hair, her arms wrapping around you like she was afraid you might disappear.

“stay here tonight,” she murmured. “stay here forever.”

“i will,” you promised.

she held you for a long time, her fingers stroking your back, your hair, your arms. she pressed kisses to your skin, soft and reverent, as if memorizing every inch of you. when you finally began to shiver from the cooling air, she pulled the blankets up higher, tucking them around you.

“are you hungry?” she asked. “thirsty?”

“just tired,” you admitted. “and happy.”

she smiled, pressing one more kiss to your lips. “then sleep. i’ll be right here.”

she reached over and dimmed the lights, casting the room into a soft, golden twilight. the city glittered beyond the windows, the rain had stopped, and the world felt quiet and safe.

she lay beside you, her body curved around yours, her arm draped over your waist. her lips brushed your ear one last time, her voice a whisper in the darkness.

“goodnight, my love.”

and then yelena belova appeared.

she was materialized beside you like a cat, all fluid grace and sly amusement, a glass of red wine dangling from her fingers. “you look bored,” she said, her accent curling around the words. “i could fix that.”

you laughed, a little flustered. yelena was beautiful, dangerous, and utterly unapologetic.

but before you could say anything else, a hand slid around your waist, firm and deliberate. eleanor's voice came from just behind you, smooth as silk but edged with steel. “i don't believe you've been introduced. this is my guest.”

yelena's eyebrows lifted, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “ah, eleanor. i was wondering when you'd come over.” she winked at you. “we were having a lovely conversation.”

“i’m sure you were.” eleanor's grip tightened, pulling you closer until your back pressed against her front. her lips brushed your ear as she whispered, “stay. right. here.”

but yelena wasn't done. she circled around, deliberately stepping into sleanor's personal space, her eyes never leaving yours. “you know, eleanor, sharing is caring. and she seems like she could handle a lot more than you give her credit for.”

eleanor's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in her cheek. “don't recall asking for your opinion on my guest's capabilities.”

yelena laughed, light and musical, the sound grating against eleanor's composure. “oh, but you don't have to ask. it’s written all over your face. you're terrified someone might take your toy away.” she reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your shoulder, her fingers lingering just a moment too long. but toys are meant to be played with. and i’m very good at playing."

“keep your hands to yourself, belova.” eleanor's voice dropped, low and dangerous.

“or what?” yelena tilted her head, feigning innocence.

“you’ll have me thrown out? you could try. but i think your little date here is enjoying the attention.” she turned to you fully, ignoring eleanor's glare. “tell me, moya krasavitsa, do you always let her speak for you? or do you have your own voice?”

before you could answer, eleanor stepped between you, her body a shield. “we’re done here.”

“are we?” yelena took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes dancing with mischief. “i saw the way you looked at me tonight. jealousy looks good on you, eleanor. it brings color to your cheeks.” she licked her lips deliberately. “but i wonder... does she make you this possessive in bed? do you fuck her like you're claiming territory? or are you all talk?”

the air crackled with tension. you could feel eleanor trembling against you, her grip on your waist almost bruising. “you don't know anything about what happens between us,” eleanor said, her voice clipped.

“i know enough.” yelena stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “i know she deserves someone who isn't afraid to lose her. someone who would fight for her.” her eyes flicked to you, warm and inviting. “i know she's wasted on a coward.”

time seemed to stop. the background noise of the gala faded, replaced by the thundering of your own heartbeat. eleanor's hand clenched into a fist at her side. then, very deliberately. her eyes were dark, stormy, the possessive fire in them barely contained.

eleanor's composure cracked, a flash of raw, possessive fury lighting her eyes. she set her champagne glass down on a passing tray with a sharp clink, then took your hand, her fingers threading through yours. “excuse us," she said, her voice clipped. “we need to talk.”

she didn't wait for a response, just tugged you through the crowd, past the laughing guests and the clinking glasses, her heels clicking a sharp staccato on the marble floor. you stumbled after her, heart racing, a mix of confusion and arousal pooling in your belly.

she pushed open the door to a private restroom—a sleek, modern space with a long marble counter and a row of sinks, soft lighting bouncing off the mirrors. she locked the door behind you, then immediately turned the lock back, leaving it unlocked.

“eleanor—“ you started, but she cut you off.

she spun you around, pushing you forward until your hips met the edge of the sink. her body pressed against your back, one hand flat on the counter beside your hip, the other tangling in your hair, yanking your head back gently.

“you think i didn't see her?” eleanor's voice was low, rough, her breath hot against your neck. “you think i didn't see the way she looked at you? the way you smiled at her?”

“i was just being polite—“

“polite?” she laughed, a dark, breathy sound. “she was undressing you with her eyes, and you let her. you let her get close.” her hand slid down your side, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, then gripping your hip hard. “do you know what that does to me?”

a shiver ran through you. you could feel the heat of her body, the subtle tremor in her hand that betrayed her barely leashed desire.

“i want her to see,” eleanor whispered, her lips brushing your ear. “i want her to walk in here and find you like this. bent over for me. wet for me.”

her other hand slipped under the hem of your dress, sliding up your thigh, her fingers finding the damp heat already gathering between your legs. she let out a satisfied hum. "you’re already soaked. is that because of her, or because of me?"

“because of you,” you breathed, and it was the truth.

“good girl.” she didn't waste another second. her fingers pushed your panties aside and slid through your slick folds, circling your clit once, twice, before she pushed two fingers inside you in one smooth, deliberate motion. you gasped, your hands flying to the edge of the sink to steady yourself.

“oh, fuck,” you moaned, your head dropping forward.

eleanor's fingers thrust into you at a punishing pace, curling and pressing against that spot inside you that made your knees buckle. her other hand held your hip steady, keeping you pinned against the counter as she worked you open. the wet, obscene sound of her fingers fucking your pussy filled the small room, echoing off the tiles.

“that’s it,” she growled against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. “let everyone hear you. let her hear you.”

you were barely aware of the door being unlocked, of the possibility that anyone could walk in—yelena, a waiter, a stranger. that thought, the risk of being caught, being seen in this state of utter surrender, sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. your cunt clenched around eleanor's fingers, drawing a low groan from her.

“fuck, you're tight,” she muttered, picking up the pace. her fingers were slick with your arousal, driving in and out of you with ruthless precision. “you're going to come for me, aren't you? right here. with that door unlocked. so everyone knows what happens when you let someone else touch what's mine.”

“yes—yes, eleanor—“ your voice cracked, desperate.

she curled her fingers, pressing hard against your g-spot, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. the pressure built, unbearable and exquisite, coiling low in your belly.

“come,” she commanded, her voice a silken snarl. “come for me now.”

your orgasm crashed through you, a violent, shuddering release that made you cry out, your body trembling against the sink. eleanor kept fucking you through it, her fingers relentless, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure until you were whimpering, oversensitive, clinging to the counter for support.

just as your breathing began to steady, a sound cut through the haze—footsteps. deliberate, unhurried footsteps approaching the restroom door. then a soft knock.

“everything alright in there?” yelena's voice, laced with amusement, came through the wood. “i thought i heard someone in distress.”

the blood rushed to your face. eleanor's fingers were still buried inside you, your juices dripping down her hand. the door was unlocked. anyone could push it open and see you bent over the sink, your dress bunched around your hips, eleanor's fingers glistening with your climax.

but instead of pulling away, eleanor pressed deeper, her fingers curling inside you, and a low, dangerous chuckle vibrated against your ear.

“answer her,” eleanor whispered, her voice thick with arousal. “go on. tell her you're perfectly fine.”

you shook your head, mortified, but eleanor's free hand clamped over your mouth, muffling the sound as she began to fuck you again—slow, deep, deliberate thrusts that made your eyes roll back.

“she’s busy,” eleanor called out, her voice steady despite the wet sounds of her fingers sliding in and out of your soaked cunt. “i’ll make sure she finds her way back to the party.”

a pause. then yelena's voice came again, closer, her mouth practically pressed to the door. “i don't mind waiting. I'd like to see if she's really in good hands.”

eleanor's breath hitched, and you felt her thighs press against the back of yours. she was getting off on this. the risk. the near-discovery. the thought of yelena standing just on the other side of the door, listening to the wet sound of eleanor's fingers pumping in and out of you.

“careful what you wish for, belova,” eleanor said, her voice a low, husky threat. she picked up the pace, her fingers slamming into you harder, faster, the sounds obscene and unmistakable. “you might get more than you bargained for.”

you heard a soft laugh, and then the sound of footsteps retreating.

the moment they faded, eleanor let out a shuddering breath against your neck. “fuck,” she hissed, and you could feel how turned on she was, her hips grinding against your ass, her fingers working you toward a second peak. “do you know how hot that was? knowing she was right there? knowing she could hear me making you fall apart?”

you could only moan in response, your second orgasm building fast, fiercer than the first.

“that’s right,” she murmured, her lips hot against your ear. “i want you to come again. i want her to still be out there, wondering what you sound like when you break for me.”

her fingers found that spot again, relentless, and you shattered—a broken cry escaping your lips as your body convulsed against the sink. this time, eleanor pressed her body flush against yours, holding you through the aftershocks, her fingers slowing to a gentle rhythm as she coaxed every last tremor from you.

she pulled her fingers out slowly, then brought them up to your lips. “taste yourself,” she said, and you obeyed, opening your mouth to wrap your tongue around her slick fingers, tasting your own arousal, her scent mingling with yours.

she watched you with dark, satisfied eyes, her breathing ragged. “next time she flirts with you," she murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, “i’m going to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you in front of the whole goddamn gala. understood?”

you nodded, dazed and trembling, your thighs still quivering.

“good,” she said, smoothing your dress back down, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “now let's go find yelena. i want to see the look on her face when she realizes exactly who you belong to.”

eleanor's hand settled on the small of your back as she pushed the restroom door open, her fingers splayed possessively across the curve of your spine. the cool air of the hallway hit your flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from between your thighs. you could feel the slick evidence of what had just happened—your juices cooling against your skin, eleanor's hand glistening faintly in the dim light.

she didn't wipe it off.

instead, she kept her palm pressed against the fabric of your dress, letting the dampness seep through, a secret brand that only the two of you knew about. her other hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face with surprising tenderness, but her eyes—those deep, stormy blue eyes—were anything but soft. they were territorial. claiming.

your legs were still shaky as you walked, and you had to lean into her just slightly to steady yourself. she welcomed the weight, her arm sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against her side. every step you took together was deliberate, her thigh brushing against yours, a reminder of exactly how intimately she'd been inside you moments ago.

the ballroom came back into view, the golden lights and laughter swelling around you like a wave. but the moment you stepped through the archway, you felt it—the shift. heads turned. eyes tracked. the buzz of conversation seemed to dim for just a moment as people took in the sight of you two, and they knew. they didn't know the specifics, but they knew.

your hair was slightly disheveled, a few strands escaping the careful styling from earlier. your lipstick was smudged at the corner—eleanor had kissed you sloppily, possessively, before opening that door. and eleanor herself... she looked like a predator who had just fed. her composure was impeccable, her gown pristine, but there was a gleam in her eyes, a satisfied tilt to her lips that screamed of recent conquest.

and then you saw yelena.

she was leaning against a pillar near the bar, a fresh glass of wine in her hand, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. her gaze traveled down your body, taking in every detail—the flush on your chest, the slight dishevelment, the way you clung to eleanor's side. when she reached your eyes, her lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.

she knew.

“ah, there she is,” yelena said, pushing off from the pillar and walking toward you with the easy grace of a cat. “i was beginning to worry you'd gotten lost.”

eleanor's arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer. “we just needed some air.”

“air?” yelena's eyes sparkled with mischief. “is that what they're calling it these days?” she took a sip of her wine, her gaze lingering on the damp spot on your dress where eleanor's hand had been resting. “you have a little... something. here.” she gestured vaguely at her own face.

your hand flew to your cheek, but eleanor caught your wrist before you could touch it. very deliberately, she brought your hand down, interlacing her fingers with yours. “i’ll take care of it later,” she said, her voice low and intimate, meant for you but loud enough for yelena to hear. “i like seeing my marks on you.”

yelena's smile widened, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—something sharp and hungry. “marks? how possessive. i didn't take you for the type, eleanor. but then again, i suppose we all have our hidden depths." she stepped closer, close enough that you could smell her perfume, something floral and dangerous. “i hope you're taking good care of her. she’s a rare find.”

“and she’s mine,” eleanor said, the words clipped, final.

“clearly.” yelena's eyes never left yours. “but treasures are meant to be appreciated. and i have excellent taste.”

before eleanor could respond, a server passed by with a tray of champagne. yelena plucked two glasses from it, and made a show of offering one to you. “for the lady. you must be thirsty after all that... air.”

your hand trembled slightly as you reached for the glass, but eleanor stepped forward, taking the champagne first. she held it up to the light, swirled it, then took a slow, deliberate sip. her eyes locked with yelena's over the rim of the glass.

“she doesn't accept drinks from strangers,” eleanor said, her voice smooth as silk.

“strangers?” yelena laughed, light and melodic. “we’re practically family at this point. after all, i've heard everything.” she let the last word hang in the air, heavy with implication.

the blood rushed to your face. eleanor's jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might do something drastic—throw the champagne in yelena's face, or drag you out of the party entirely. but instead, she smiled. a slow, dangerous, triumphant smile.

“then you know exactly what she sounds like when she comes,” eleanor said, her voice dropping to a purr. “well i hope you remember it well. because it's the only time you'll ever hear it.”

yelena's composure cracked, just for a fraction of a second. her eyes darkened, the playful mask slipping to reveal something rawer underneath. she recovered quickly, raising her glass in a mock toast. “we’ll see about that.”

she walked away, but not before letting her fingers brush against your arm as she passed. a featherlight touch, barely a whisper of contact. but eleanor saw it. her grip on your waist turned bruising.

“she’s trying you,” you whispered, your voice still hoarse from earlier.

“oh, i know.” eleanor's lips brushed your ear, her breath warm and uneven. "and she's succeeding. because now i want to take you somewhere private and remind you exactly whose name you moan when you come."

she pulled back, her eyes dark with renewed desire. "but not yet. i want to dance with you. i want everyone here to see you in my arms, flushed and satisfied. i want them to wonder what i did to you in that restroom. i want them to envy me.”

she led you to the dance floor without waiting for an answer, her hand finding yours, the other settling on your hip. the music swelled around you—a slow, sultry number that seemed designed for bodies pressed close. she pulled you into her, your chests meeting, your thighs brushing. you could feel the heat of her body, the subtle tension in her muscles.

as you swayed together, you became acutely aware of the eyes on you. the entire room seemed to be watching—the wealthy socialites, the agents, the waitstaff. and yelena, standing at the edge of the dance floor, her wine glass forgotten in her hand, her eyes tracking every movement eleanor made.

eleanor leaned in, her lips hovering over yours, not quite kissing. “she's watching,” she murmured, her voice a low thrill. “she's watching me hold you, and she knows. she knows exactly how wet you are right now, how your thighs are still sticky with both of us. she knows i made you come so hard that now you can’t walk straight.”

“eleanor...” you breathed, your eyes fluttering closed.

“look at her,” eleanor commanded softly. “open your eyes and look at her.”

you obeyed, your gaze finding yelena across the room. she met your eyes, and in that moment, something passed between you—an acknowledgment, a challenge, a spark of something that neither of you would act on tonight. but it was there, crackling in the air.

eleanor's hand slid lower, resting just above the curve of your ass, her fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. “i’m going to take you home,” she said, her voice thick with promise. “and i’m going to spend the rest of the night making sure you forget her name entirely.”

“already forgotten,” you whispered, and it was almost true.

eleanor's smile was sharp and satisfied. she dipped you low, right there on the dance floor, her lips finally claiming yours in a kiss that was deep and possessive and utterly shameless. when she pulled you back up, the room broke into scattered applause and wolf-whistles.

yelena was no longer at the edge of the dance floor.

eleanor didn't care. she had what she wanted. she had you.

“let’s get out of here,” she said, her hand sliding into yours, her fingers lacing through yours like a promise.

you didn't look back as she led you through the crowd, past the curious stares and the murmuring voices, out into the cool night air where a sleek black car was waiting. she bundled you into the backseat, sliding in beside you, her thigh pressed against yours, her hand never leaving your body.

the door closed. the world outside faded.

and eleanor's lips found your neck, her voice a husky whisper against your skin.