The afterparty was already a haze.
Lights like melted gold. Music like sex. Everything smelled like champagne, perfume, and heat. Bodies pressed tight in velvet corners, tongues in mouths that didn't know names, limbs tangled under low lights.
Eliana had long since given up trying to behave.
Fashion Week was done. Luca was crowned a deity by the fashion elite. Everyone had cried and clapped and drank until they couldn't feel their faces. Now, at a rooftop club too beautiful to be legal, they were celebrating like gods with no shame.
Eliana's drink was mostly melted. Her lipstick was mostly gone. Her dress was sticking to her skin in places it wasn't supposed to.
And Nicky?
Nicky was sin in heels.
He still had the dress on. A black thing that cut high at the thigh and dipped low at the chest. His legs were smooth. His hair a mess of platinum strands. He looked like trouble dipped in starlight, laughing into the rim of a glass like he hadn't just ruined her an hour ago just by existing.
She tried to avoid him.
She tried so hard.
She danced with Elias. She flirted with a model who smelled like Tom Ford and heartbreak. She poured another drink and let Luca paint glitter stars down her arm.
But then she turned.
And he was there.
Sprawled across a velvet booth, drink in hand, smirk lazy. Legs wide. Eyes hooded.
Like he knew.
Like he always knew.
She froze.
He lifted his chin. Beckoned with two fingers.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
Eliana crossed the room like her shoes weren't too high, like her thighs weren't shaking. She slid into his lap without a word, because there was no space and she couldn't think.
It was dark. Loud. No one cared.
She shifted, trying to balance.
And then she felt it.
Her breath caught. Her pulse snapped.
It was there again.
Hard. Beneath her.
Just like in the van.
Her body remembered instantly. The way she sat still and came on his lap, legs trembling, mouth open in a silent scream. She swallowed hard, trying not to react.
He was drunk. Probably half-asleep again. Probably didn't mean to.
She tried to stay still.
But he moved.
Just slightly.
And his cock pressed harder against her core.
A moan slipped out before she could stop it.
Not loud.
But loud enough.
Renee's head turned. "You good? You sound like you're about to puke."
Eliana blinked. "Yeah. Sorry. Just… air."
Nicky's hand slid around her waist. His voice in her ear was low. Controlled. "Let me help her."
He stood.
Lifted her effortlessly.
Walked them both into the dark hallway toward the bathroom.
She didn't speak.
Neither did he.
He pushed open the door. Guided her inside.
And she bent over the toilet bowl, trying to catch her breath, trying to get it together, thinking he was going to hold her hair or run water or do something platonic—
But then she felt it.
His body behind hers.
His cock pressing up against her ass.
So much harder now.
So fucking thick.
And the dress?
Didn't help.
She could feel everything.
Her body locked.
She blinked down at the porcelain, hands clutching the edges. Her heart was a thunderstorm.
He didn't speak.
Just rocked.
Once.
Slow.
A grind.
His cock dragging right against the cleft of her ass, through the thin slip of her panties.
She gasped.
Still silent.
Still no words.
She couldn't believe it was happening.
He pushed again.
This time, his hips met her in a quiet rhythm.
Dry. Slow. Pressed tight.
Dry humping her over the toilet like they were teenagers with no time, no brains, no decency.
Her hands gripped the seat harder.
Her back arched. She couldn't stop it.
She didn't want to.
He was panting now. Soft. Desperate.
She pushed back.
Pressed her ass against him.
Ground down.
She could feel the full length of him. The heat. The pulse. Her panties were soaked.
Her mouth dropped open.
Still no words.
Just the wet sounds of friction. The soft slap of skin against silk.
His hands were on her hips. Tight. Bruising.
Her head dropped.
Her thighs trembled.
She was close.
So close.
Still no words.
And then he leaned in.
His mouth against her neck.
A soft, broken sound in her ear.
Her body shattered.
She came.
Hard.
Silently.
Bent over the toilet, legs shaking, thighs soaked, mouth open in a moan she couldn't make.
He came too.
She felt it.
Hot and thick against her ass. The twitch of his cock. The way his whole body stilled.
They stayed like that.
Breathless.
Ruined.
Still not speaking.
Then he stepped back.
Zipped up.
Washed his hands.
And said, voice quiet, "You okay?"
She turned. Blinked. Heart still racing.
She nodded.
He opened the door.
Waited for her.
She followed.
Neither of them said a word.
And the party went on.