The party had already shifted by the time they arrived—voices lower, touches slower, the mood thick with something electric and unspoken.
Inside the softly lit loft, everything shimmered: shadows moved like silk, music pulsed low and steady, laughter curled into moans behind gauzy curtains. Everyone wore something suggestive—lace, leather, undone buttons and whispers of want.
Eva and Julian entered hand in hand.
This was their third time coming to one of these parties, and each time felt different. Charged. Alive. They had rules, of course. Boundaries. But also something stronger than rules: trust.
Eva leaned up to kiss Julian, slow and full of promise. “Find someone you like,” she murmured, her lips brushing his. “And make sure you let me see.”
Julian’s smile was quiet. Wicked.
They drifted apart into the warm haze of candlelight and skin. Eva found a couch near the center of the room, watching bodies tangle and stretch around her. A woman with deep eyes and tattoos like vines slid beside her, wordless, confident. She brushed a hand along Eva’s thigh—not asking, just offering.
Eva didn’t speak. She kissed her.
The woman tasted like cherries and red wine. Her hand moved higher.
Across the room, Julian had found his own rhythm—laughing with a man leaning back against a pillar, his fingers already unbuttoning Julian’s shirt. They kissed like they meant to leave marks. Julian’s head tilted back as teeth grazed his neck, and then his gaze flicked across the room.
Met hers.
Eva’s breath caught.
His lips were parted, hands tangled in someone else’s hair—but his eyes stayed on her. Watching. Wanting her to see.
She arched into the woman’s touch, breath hitching as soft fingers slipped beneath lace. The woman kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, down—
And Julian watched. His jaw clenched. Not from jealousy, but hunger. Pride. Permission.
She kept her eyes locked on his as she moaned.
The tension between them crackled even across the space—like a tether of heat and heartbeat. The man Julian was with sank to his knees. Eva watched his head fall back, his lips parting in pleasure as someone else made him gasp, and god, she loved him like this—open, free, and still hers.
Later, they would find each other again.
Still breathless. Still glowing.
They wouldn’t need to say much.
Just a glance.
A kiss.
And maybe, fingers tangled tight under the covers as they whispered how good it was to watch the other fall—just a little—for someone else.
And return.
Every time.