Page 62 of Her Nightshade

“You don’t get to touch me,” I said, my voice commanding. “I’m taking what’s mine, Charlie. I’m going to fuck you until I come, and if you’re a good boy for the rest of the day, maybe I’ll let you come tonight.”

Charlie gasped my name, his body trembling beneath me as he surrendered completely. I rolled my hips, chasing my own pleasure, teasing my breasts just inches from his face, knowing it was driving him insane.

Every sound he made, every shudder, only pushed me further. I didn’t know what exactly I was doing. I wanted to test him—test his loyalty, his devotion. I wanted to see how far he’d go for me, to know what he’d endure just to please me. It was reckless, maybe even cruel, and I knew it. But I couldn’t stop myself.

I wasn’t Ana Del Rosario anymore. I was Ana, Charlie’sdiosa, the queen of his world.

And I knew neither of us wanted it any other way.

* * *

After Charlie reluctantly returned to the main floor without me, I took a moment to clean up, assuring him I’d only be a fewminutes. The room felt quieter without him, but the hum of activity outside still lingered faintly in the background.

My phone vibrated on the end table and I assumed it was Charlie already checking in, asking where I was. But when I picked it up, the screen displayed an unknown number. Beneath it, a text message appeared:

You’re too smart to let this go on. He’s going to ruin you.

24

Charlie

Iwas drained by the relentless demands of tour rehearsals. All I wanted, all I could think about, was being with Ana. Just the two of us. I knew it was selfish. I had a crew counting on me, sponsors to satisfy, a management team relying on me, and fans I couldn’t afford to let down. But none of that mattered. All I wanted was to make Ana happy.

She was becoming everything I didn’t know I needed—jealous, possessive, degrading. And fuck, the anger and authority in her eyes when she took me backstage had me instantly hard. It was so insanely hot I thought I’d lose control right then and there. I’d never felt anything like it before. She owned me completely.

But even afterwards, as she rode the last wave of her orgasm, she made sure I was okay.

“¿Estás bien? Was that too much, baby?” she murmured, her voice soft but still carrying that commanding undertone.

I lifted my hips slightly, savoring the warmth of her perfect pussy wrapped around me. “No,mi diosa. It was perfect.”

* * *

I sat on the texts from the PI with proof of Callan’s relapse. Part of me itched to call him, to tell him to back the fuck off of me and Ana. But another part hesitated. I felt bad for the poor sod. I understood secrets and vices—addiction was no joke. Still, I’d do anything to protect what Ana and I had. If he made another move to fuck with us, I wouldn’t hesitate to use it against him. No matter how much guilt it stirred, Ana was my priority now.

But this fucking tour.

It was taking too much of my time with her and I could feel her silently pulling away. No matter how much I demanded we spend time together—between lighting setups, rehearsals, meetings, photo shoots—it never seemed like enough.

At home, she sat quietly scrolling on her phone. Every glance at the screen was like a stab to the gut. Was she talking to someone? Hiding something? I hated that my mind went there, but the silence between us was worse than any argument.

I was one second away from calling off the entire tour, dragging her to some deserted island where it would just be the two of us. Forever. Away from the noise, the pressure, the distractions. Because if I lost her…I didn’t know what the fuck I’d do.

“I’m calling off the tour,” I said abruptly one night, only nine days before it started.

We had just gotten under the covers, well after one in the morning. It was another night of her pulling away. She had locked herself in the bathroom earlier, sitting in the bath so long it must have gone cold. I sat outside the door, listening. I wasn’t certain, but I thought I heard her crying.

She came out eventually, red-eyed, her face pale. I’d tried to ask her what was wrong, but she’d just kissed my cheek and climbed into bed, silent as ever.

“No, no…Charlie. Don’t do that,” she said softly now, turning towards me. Her voice was calm, but her hand shook as it reached for mine. Her eyes, wide and panicked, gave her away.

“Then tell me what to do to make this better,mi diosa. I can’t stand this anymore. What’s going on? What did I do? It’s the tour, isn’t it?” I began, not even bothering to hold back tears.

Now that the floodgates had opened, there was no turning back. The panic had risen in my chest and I stood up, pacing.

“No, baby. It’s not that,” she answered back quickly, her voice cracking.

“Then what is it?” I snapped, my anger and frustration and fear mingling into one.

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