Camila and Theo had come for the dinner—an exclusive farm-to-table pop-up tucked inside a rooftop greenhouse above the city. All candlelight and vines, the scent of basil and heat, glass walls fogged from the warmth of bodies and breath.
It was romantic. Intimate. And then there was Elias.
The host. Quiet, observant, devastatingly charming. He poured the wine himself, explained the courses, but lingered longer at their table. Especially when Camila laughed. Especially when Theo touched her knee beneath the table and Elias didn’t look away.
By dessert, the air was thick—not from the summer night, but from something unspoken.
“I could give you a private tour,” Elias offered, voice low. “If you’re curious.”
They were.
He led them to the far end of the greenhouse, behind a curtain of hanging ivy, where the floor turned to warm wood and the herbs gave way to orchids. It was quiet there. Heavy.
Elias turned to Camila, fingers brushing her waist. “May I?”
She nodded. Theo stood close behind her, his breath catching as Elias kissed her, slow and deep, hands sliding up beneath the slip of her dress. Camila whimpered, caught between the man she loved and the man she suddenly needed.
Elias dropped to his knees, lifting her leg onto his shoulder, licking her open as she gasped into Theo’s neck. Theo kissed her, fingers tangled in her hair, eyes locked with Elias’s below.
Then they moved.
Camila bent over the potting table, Theo took her slowly from behind while Elias kissed her mouth, her breasts, her thighs, until she was shaking. They switched, Elias sliding into her deep and thick, Theo watching, stroking himself, whispering filth and praise as she came again.
The greenhouse was filled with the sounds of breath, bodies, the creak of wood and the rustle of leaves. Moans and heat and wet fingers between thighs.
When it was over, they lay tangled on a warm blanket meant for nothing like this. Camila traced lazy circles on Theo’s chest. Elias watered an orchid nearby, shirtless, glowing.
Theo looked over, grinning.
“Does every dinner end like this?”
Elias smirked.
“Only when the guests are ripe.”
