Driven by instinct, I was about to experience something entirely new. I'm not lying to you, girl—I'd never sat on a man's lap before, and there I was, naked—or rather, covered only by a long shirt that didn't hide much—pretending Detective Bruce Bance was just showing me photos on his laptop. As soon as I settled on top of him, I shifted my weight onto one of his legs, but he gripped my waist and told me to move back a little more, right into the center. I let his hands guide my backside exactly where he wanted it.
And when I did, I felt all his power beneath me, but I didn't say a word. While he pointed at an image and told me about a case in London—where some madman tried to throw him off a bridge—I felt his other hand lifting my shirt, exposing my bare backside as he adjusted himself so I could feel him fully. Right then, he grabbed me with both hands and stopped talking, as if nothing else mattered. I allowed it, making no gesture other than turning to look at him before fixing my eyes back on the screen. He used his strength, pressing my hips down, holding me firmly against him, then began moving me back and forth, over and over, without a single word between us.
My mind was spinning. I turned around, wanting to tell him that this—this thing I had never felt before—was driving me crazy, but I couldn't find the courage. He didn't speed up; he just kept moving me back and forth. I craned my neck so he could see me, my mouth open as I gasped for air, tracing the lines of his face as he watched me with pure desire. For the first time, I saw him smile, dimples forming that made him look even sexier. There was a precise spot in that rhythm that made me let out a soft moan, and once he found it, he kept me right there, pressing into me. When I started to tremble, I knew I could make love to him right then and there—that the moment he opened his pants, I would be his. But I didn't do it, girl. Those brushes of skin, under the excuse of "training," felt more sensual than anything in the world, and I didn't want it to end.
Finally, I took his hands to pull myself away and said, "We simulated that really well. I don't think she'll realize we're lying. I think we should get some rest."
But he just sat there like a primal creature of sensuality. He didn't answer. Instead, he lifted my shirt again to look at me from the front, tapping the inside of my thigh once with his finger. I obeyed his silent command and spread my legs slightly, just the way he wanted. Standing there in front of Bruce, I could see the bulge in his pants, begging me to come back to him. He simply leaned further back in his chair and tapped his legs, inviting me to sit again. I bit my lip and started to turn so I could sit like before, but he stopped me. He called me back to sit, this time facing him. I straddled him without resistance, in total silence, while he lifted my shirt to watch as my entire femininity settled over his strength.
He rested both hands on my backside and simply said, "Forgive me. You need to trust me completely."
I didn't reply. I just opened my shirt so he could see all of me, surrendering to his desires without any resistance. When he began to pull me forward, he said, "Now go back until my hands push you again."
I obeyed. If I was going to die, I couldn't think of a better way to say goodbye to my body.
I began to tremble again, my head tilted back toward the ceiling, unable to hold it in, but I stopped by leaning against his chest, arching my back, wishing Lucius would wake up and take me with force. A message popped up on his phone, then another, and another. He didn't let me stand up, and after checking his phone, he said, "Evangelina is coming up. She says she has an idea."
I went to the kitchen to get some water, and when Evangelina opened the door—breathless from running up the stairs—she said, "Annia is still out. Wake Lucius up. I think I've figured it out."
She was wearing an oversized T-shirt that revealed the sides of her breasts and short pajama bottoms that made her thin, perfect legs look even longer, if that was even possible.
I brought Lucius by the hand. It took him a few seconds to grasp the situation, and a few more to understand why I was wearing his shirt open across my chest. When the four of us were in the living room, Evangelina spoke:
"Listen carefully. Beneath the Roman sands—specifically in the iconic Colosseum—lay the hypogeum, a vast and complex network of tunnels, passageways, and chambers spread across underground levels. That hidden labyrinth housed the cells where gladiators waited their turn to fight, as well as cages for wild beasts. I'm certain the kidnapped girls are beneath the sand of the hall that mimics a Roman circus, and I'm not just saying that based on theory. A section of the lower floor, right under that hall we sometimes use for coffee or snacks, is completely sealed off because it supposedly houses the power unit that supplies energy to the entire mansion in emergencies."
Bruce said, "We should start there, then."
Lucius agreed and went to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. He offered some to the rest of us, saying he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.
We all thanked him but declined. But when he left, I saw for the first time the power his cousin had over Evangelina. He looked at her and said, "Yes, you do want coffee. Go help him in the kitchen. Leave me—I need to talk to Carmilla."
And to my astonishment, he reached out and pulled down the neckline of her shirt, nearly exposing her completely. Then he gestured for her to go. She smiled at him without protest and followed Lucius.
Bruce turned to me. "On the plane, you're sitting next to me. We're going to sit across from Annia. I want her to see us while I touch you. I don't want her noticing your nerves. Out of all of us, you're the worst at hiding it. It's important this plot never even crosses her mind. Wear a short skirt—and no underwear."
Lucius and Evangelina were talking in the kitchen. I didn't respond to the detective. I just stared at his hand—those thick, strong fingers—before walking over to where my man was making coffee.
Evangelina was leaning against the counter, chatting, showing her breasts to Lucius through her wide neckline as if she hadn't noticed. When she saw me, she casually gave me a hug and a kiss, then left with her coffee. The order Bruce had given—with few words and many gestures—to keep Lucius distracted no longer mattered. She was that obedient in those matters, but as she passed him, he reached out to kiss her, and she said, "You don't deserve it."
In that moment, I couldn't understand the dynamic between them.
Bruce went to his room, and when Lucius returned, I could easily see he'd been turned on by Evangelina. Completely consumed by a mix of jealousy and desire, I told him, "Do you realize? In a few hours, we could all be dead. Let's celebrate life… I love you. Tonight, let's celebrate that we are young and beautiful. Let's go to bed."
He grew serious, and with an authority that made my skin shiver, he turned me around. His powerful fingers pressed hard into the small of my back, forcing me to arch, leaving my backside at his mercy. He pushed my torso down until my hands touched the floor. Then I heard my man's rough voice command, "My house, my rules. We'll do this my way—and it won't be gentle."
He pulled my shirt all the way up and left me there. I felt his masculine power against me in ways I didn't even know were allowed. He didn't use his fingers to lift me—he struck me with his hand, once, then again, and again, until I gave in to the position he wanted. And there, as I gave myself to him, driven mad by him… he took me from behind. Slow at first, very slow and firm, and my soul screamed that I was his. Then fast, then slow again—and that shift in rhythm let me savor every movement. I was overwhelmed. I closed my eyes and imagined myself on Bruce's lap, back arched, with Lucius loving me just as he was now, while the detective moved me back and forth. When Lucius sped up again, reaching a climaxing rhythm, my mind begged for more. I also imagined Killian, his size coming toward my mouth, and I bit my lips so hard I felt them swell. I tried to hold back the climax, begging my man not to stop, crying out, "More, don't stop—more, more!"
And he gave it to me. I needed those furious thrusts to stay inside my dream of having all three of them loving me at once. I couldn't hold back anymore, and when I cried out in pleasure, he released himself inside me. I felt all of it. I was completely in love, thinking only one thing: if this was how I would say goodbye to my life, then it had been a life worth living.
He kissed my back over and over again, and I thought, Thank you, thank you for this, but all I managed to say was, "I love you so, so much."
In the bathroom mirror, I saw the map of my happiness: my swollen lips that belonged to Killian's heart, the mark on my neck from Bruce's touch, and my reddened backside from Lucius's desire. Satisfied, feeling beautiful, I took another shower and climbed into that marshmallow-soft bed, where I slept like never before.
When I woke up, I heard Evangelina's voice in the living room. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized the psychopath Annia was standing right beside me, staring at my naked body. I had to play it off. "Hey, beautiful," I said.
It was the best I could manage. She placed her hand on my stomach and said, "Come on, get up. We're going to tour Paris."
Then she slid her hand upward and gave me a small kiss on the mouth, touching one of my breasts. I smiled again. Then she asked, "Do you want to make me very happy? Even if it's crazy—would you do it for me?"
I said, "Of course. Anything."
She ran her hand through my hair, threading her fingers through it, and with a slightly breathless voice said, "I'd love it, beautiful… if you dyed your hair red. If you do it for me, I'll shower you with the most expensive gifts."