Page 30 of Her Nightshade

“Share your location with me,” I demanded softly, teasingly. “And update me every thirty minutes with a selfie. Make them dirty.” I traced a finger along his jaw, feeling his breath quicken. “Tell me all the filthy things you want me to do to you. If you’re good,” I whispered, my lips brushing his ear. “I’ll choose one of them to make happen tonight.”

“Fuck. Yes,mi diosa,” he murmured, his grip on my hips tightening as desire flickered in his eyes. “Please…let me fuck you before you go.”

“No,” I replied instantly, holding my ground despite the ache pooling low in my belly. “You need to show me you’re a good boy first.” I stepped back, a rush of regret already stirring inside me as I felt the wetness between my legs for him.

Charlie swallowed hard but he nodded. “Can I jerk off to you?”

I bit my lip, feeling that familiar thrill. He was handing me the reins, willingly surrendering, and I was thriving in the power of it. “No. All of your cum belongs to me.”

He groaned but took my hand. “Every ounce of me is for you,mi diosa.”

14

Charlie

Being apart from Ana was pure agony. My chest ached with a raw, relentless need, a visceral emptiness that only her presence could fill. The distance was more than I could bear; my entire body felt her absence like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

I hated sharing her attention, even with her daughter. We only had this one week together and already Sloane was slipping in, carving out pieces of our precious time. I knew I’d never fully understand the bond between a mother and daughter—especially one as close as theirs—but it didn’t stop the simmer of resentment. Every moment Ana spent with someone else felt like something stolen from us.

And here I was, alone on my bed, sending Ana shirtless selfies, dick pics, and videos of me stroking myself, all while staring at my phone, waiting for her replies. With each message I sent, she’d respond just enough to keep me hooked, leaving mehanging onto every word. Hours had passed and all I’d gotten were a few tantalizing replies, but they were enough to feed the fire within me. Who knew that a simple “good boy” or “I love you” could satisfy my obsession so completely?

I ordered in dinner since I spent most of my alone time obsessing over my goddess, indulging in thoughts of her while touching myself, edging myself just close enough to save it all for her. Ana and Sloane were due to arrive any minute with Callan joining us later, much to my annoyance. I still hadn’t forgiven him for running his mouth to Ana, and it was becoming my quiet mission to dig up anything on him that could shake things up between him and Sloane. If he wanted to interfere, I’d make sure he regretted it.

Just as I was unpacking Thai food, Ana texted to say she arrived.

I headed down the stairs, my excitement deflating slightly when I saw Callan standing beside Sloane, just behind Ana.

“Hi. Come in,” I greeted them with a wide grin, my gaze locked on the most beautiful woman in the world.

Slipping my hand around her waist, I leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against her lips before pulling back and taking her hand to lead her upstairs. Behind us, I could hear Sloane and Callan following.

“I thought Callan was joining us later?” I murmured close to her ear.

“He finished his errands early,” she whispered back.

I felt my mood shift, a subtle irritation creeping in. I’d been looking forward to a chance to win Sloane over without Callan’s watchful, disapproving stare.

“Wow!” Sloane exclaimed as she took in the loft, her eyes wide with admiration. “This place is amazing, Charlie.”

I smiled, giving Ana’s hand a gentle squeeze before glancing at Callan. His gaze roamed the room, hands in his pockets, as if he were inspecting the place for something to call me out on.

“Thanks, Sloane. I ordered Thai—hope everyone’s hungry,” I said, leading them into the kitchen where I began setting out plates.

Ana was already settling in, draping her coat over a chair, while Sloane wandered over to the records stacked on a shelf by the wall. Meanwhile, Callan kept scanning the space.

“Oh my God, do you really haveeveryBeatles album on vinyl?” Sloane asked excitedly. “They’re Callan’s favorite. Right, Cal?”

Callan’s gaze met mine and he offered a polite smile. “Good taste, man.”

I returned a forced smile. “Yeah, you too, mate.”

As dinner continued, Sloane and Ana took over most of the conversation, laughter filling the loft. I sat back, listening as Ana’s laughter came easily, her relaxed demeanor lighting up the room. It felt good seeing her like this—easygoing, in her element with her daughter. Right next to me.

But if I had to sit through the night with Callan, I figured I might as well try to win him over—or at least keep things civil. “So, the Beatles, huh? Any other favorites?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

He shrugged, settling his elbows on the table. “A bit of everything. Rap, hip hop. Classic rock. Metal. Not much for current pop stuff though,” he said, eyes steady on mine, as if my music wasn’t worth his time.

“Yeah, me neither,” I joked, even though the urge to roll my eyes was hard to shake.

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