Sasha flashed a wicked grin and headed for the marble bathroom. "I'm hopping in the shower," she called out over her shoulder, her hand already reaching for the hem of her tank top.

​"I'll be right behind you," I said, my voice low.

​But as I reached for my pockets to strip down, my phone vibrated with a frantic, unrelenting rhythm. I pulled it out, expecting a business alert or a tip from Two-bit. Instead, the screen was a wall of notifications from Chloe.

______________

​Druski, who is this woman Monet? She had men come to the apartment and tell me I had to leave. They were terrifying.

Why aren't you answering? Where are you?

I've been waiting for days. Are you okay? Please call me.

_________________

I stared at the screen, the weight of my double life pressing down on me. Monet was marking her territory, sweeping the "distractions" out of my life without even asking. It was a cold, calculated move to remind me who really pulled the strings.

​The thought of the tearful explanations, the drama, and the frantic energy Chloe was pouring into my inbox made my head throb. I was in a five-star suite in Beverly Hills with a porn icon in the shower and a mob boss six doors down. I didn't have the bandwidth for a "where are we?" conversation.

​"Too much drama," I muttered to myself.

​I tossed the phone onto the silk duvet, the screen still glowing with unread pleas for attention. I lay back for just a second, intending to catch my breath before joining Sasha, but the jet lag and the adrenaline crash hit me like a physical blow. The luxury of the Peninsula swallowed me whole, and before the sound of the shower hitting the marble could even register, sleep consumed me.

I woke up to a rhythmic, heavy heat and the sound of soft, breathless moans echoing in the dimly lit room. My senses were hazy at first, but the sensation was unmistakable—a slow, wet friction and a weight pressing firmly into my hips.

​I snapped my eyes open to find Sasha straddling me in the moonlight. She was completely naked, her skin glowing like polished bronze in the blue light filtering through the Peninsula's silk curtains. She was leaning back, her hands braced on my knees for leverage as she rode me with a slow, agonizingly perfect grind.

​Her body was a masterpiece of the industry—her breasts were full and heavy, swaying with every upward thrust of her hips, topped with dark, prominent brown nipples that were pebbled hard from the friction. She looked like a goddess of pure carnal intent. Below, I could feel her pussy—slick, tight, and boiling hot—engulfing my cock completely, her inner muscles clenching around me in a desperate, rhythmic pulse.

​She saw my eyes open and a slow, triumphant smile spread across her face.

​"Welcome back, sleepyhead," she whispered, her voice a raspy purr. She didn't stop moving; instead, she leaned forward, her heavy breasts brushing against my chest as she lowered her mouth to my ear. "You were out for a while. I figured I'd give you a reason to stay awake."

​She picked up the pace, her breathing hitching as she drove herself down onto me, burying my length as deep as the anatomy would allow. The risk of Monet being just a few walls away only added a sharp, electric edge to the pleasure.

I stayed pinned to the silk sheets, letting her maintain her rhythm. Sasha wasn't just riding me; she was reclaiming me. She arched her back, her full breasts silhouetted against the dim glow of Beverly Hills, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she ground her hips in a slow, circular motion that felt like she was trying to drain every bit of tension from my body.

​"God, Druski," she gasped, her eyes locked onto mine. "You feel like iron."

​She began to move with a frantic, desperate energy, her inner muscles milking my cock with a rhythmic intensity that forced a low, guttural moan from my throat. She leaned down, her heavy breasts crushing against my chest, and captured my lips in a deep, wet kiss. It tasted like expensive wine and raw hunger.

​I reached up, my hands find the curve of her waist before sliding down to grip the firm, sweating globes of her ass. I pulled her down harder, meeting every one of her descents with a powerful upward thrust of my hips. The bed frame creaked in the silence of the luxury suite—a dangerous sound considering who was likely walking the halls outside.

​Sasha didn't care. She was lost in it, her head tossing back as she let out a series of sharp, breathless whimpers. I could feel the heat between us reaching a boiling point, my cock pulsing inside her my cock kicked into high gear. She was milking me for everything I was worth, her body trembling on the verge of a total collapse.

​"Don't... don't stop," she whimpered against my neck, her dark nipples grazing my skin. "I want it all. Right here. Right now."

I gripped her waist, my fingers sinking into her soft skin as the final surge took over. I drove upward one last time, burying myself to the hilt, and let out a low, ragged growl as I came deep inside her. Sasha's entire body went rigid, her head falling onto my shoulder as she let out a long, shaky exhale, her internal muscles pulsing around me in a desperate goodbye.

​We stayed like that for a few minutes, tangled in the expensive silk sheets, the only sound our synchronized, heavy breathing. The afterglow was heavy, but the air in the Peninsula still felt charged with the proximity of Monet.

​Sasha eventually pulled away, her skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. She sat up, pushing her hair back, and looked at me with a playful, mysterious spark in her eyes.

​"That was exactly what I needed to wake up," she purred, sliding off the bed. She stood there for a second, completely uninhibited, the moonlight catching the curves of her body. "Now, get your ass up and go shower. I want us to go out."

​I arched an eyebrow. "Out? It's late, Sasha. And we've got 'neighbors' remember?"

​"I don't care about the neighbors right now," she said, tossing me a fresh towel. "I want to take you somewhere. A place you need to see if you're going to be a star in this city, not just the industry. Trust me, Druski. You won't want to miss this."

​I watched her walk into the bathroom, her hips swaying with a renewed energy. Whatever she had planned, it sounded like the perfect way to establish my presence in LA—or the perfect way to walk straight into a different kind of trap.

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