When she stepped inside, Daniel was waiting in his living room with two of his friends, Chase and James, both trust fund heirs she'd met before. There was cocaine on the glass coffee table. Music pulsed through hidden speakers.
"There she is," Daniel said, pulling her onto his lap. His hand slid up her thigh possessively. "Gentlemen, I told you she'd come. She always comes when I call."
Chase laughed. While James stared at her with undisguised hunger.
"Tell them what you told me earlier," Daniel said, his breath hot against her neck. "About your mother."
She froze. She hadn't told him about the fight yet; how did he know that? But then she assumed that Thomas must have overheard the conversation with her mother and reported it to him, so she brushed it aside.
"Tell them how you finally put that bitter old woman in her place. Moved out. Chose me over her.
"His hand tightened on her leg, almost painfully. "That's what you did, right? Chose me?"
"Yes," she heard herself say.
"Good girl." He kissed her neck, then looked at his friends.
"See? This is why she's special. Total loyalty. She'd do anything for me. Wouldn't you, baby?"
In that moment, with three sets of male eyes on her, sitting on his lap like a prize, his hand gripping her possessively, and her mother's tears still fresh in her memory, Amira felt something crack inside her chest.
She smiled brightly and wore her mask of cold indifference like a shield, the one she had perfected wearing over the years.
"Anything," she said.
His finger crawled up her thigh, finding the lacy black thong that she wore specifically for him to thank him for letting her move in with him. That was a huge step in their relationship; it meant that they were practically married.
She startled when he snarled in her ears ,when his finger touched the thin fabric covering her moist entrance.
"I told you to always be bare whenever I see you; she was completely waxed because Daniel loved his women to be hairless down there."
Amira's mouth was dry; she thought they would make love after his friends had left; that was how it usually was. He wouldn't touch her here, right? not in front of his friends.
"Baby?"
She whispered urgently to Daniel "your friends are here we could use the room am sure the wouldn't mind a bit of interruption", she kissed his cheeks and took his earlobe into her mouth sucking and biting lightly in a bid to appease him, because he absolutely hated it when she told him what to do especially before his friends, he liked to behave like a toxic Alpha male, a trait which she hated, but her hesitation seemed to encourage him even more.
His friends who were so drop dead gorgeous that the looked like the literal fallen angels, watched on in fascination, none of them attempting to move from their spot. A gasp left her lips as he ripped her thong, leaving her bare. He tossed the ripped thong at James, who caught it and sniffed it and then passed it to Chase, and they seemed to be smiling at some inside joke she didn't quite understand.
She felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment, but she didn't stop him because a dirty part of her secretly enjoyed the treatment. She knew she should have been affronted, but she wasn't; a part of her wondered if this was how low she had sunk in moral depravity.
But when you had three handsome men looking at you like you hung the stars, men that you were not even worthy enough to be in the same room with, it tended to give you a power trip, she felt her core become slick with juices from her arousal.
He spread her thighs, fully exposing her glistening core to his friends while rubbing a small circle at the entrance of her exposed core.
Amira enjoyed what was happening but she was still a tad shy after all this were his friends , and she would get to see them again if she was planning on marrying him, she could not afford this happening.
"Daniel I don't thing this is a good idea". The protest came out muffled , mixed between a moan and a gasp.
His finger found the bud in between her legs and began rubbing on it; a shudder raced down her back. Her juices coated his fingers, running down her entrance to soak his trousers.
"Told you she was my personal whore, who is open to anything."
Amira knew that she should say no and protest, but Daniel was doing wonderful things to her body; all she could think about was how much she wanted his finger inside her; she wanted him to fill her completely.
She almost cried in relief when he inserted a single finger, then three, when she whimpered in discomfort , he whispered into her ears, "Look at me... good girl, that's it, Almost there, just breathe." while he stretched her completely, until she adjusted to the size.
With a few expert strokes of her aching, stretched core, while rubbing her extremely sensitive bud, she was bucking wildly against him, then she was climaxing so hard that her body shuddered. She opened her eyes to see that the conversation had stopped and all the men were watching her in fascination and awe and it embarrassed her.
Without saying a word, she grabbed her bag and ran as Daniel and his friends called after her. She must have looked a mess; she didn't stop until she was exhausted and her heart was pounding fast against her chest.
She couldn't go home. Not today. Not like this. A hotel would have to do—somewhere anonymous where she could piece herself back together before deciding what came next.
The bathroom mirror at the gas station had told her everything she needed to know: hair in wild tangles, mascara streaked down her cheeks like war paint after surrender. Every person she passed on the street seemed to notice. Their eyes would catch on her, then flicker away—pity wrapped in discomfort. That look gutted her more than anything else.
Amira had built her life brick by painstaking brick. She'd clawed her way up from nothing, fought for every scrap of control, every shred of dignity. She couldn't afford this. Couldn't afford to shatter like cheap glass on a sidewalk.
*Pull yourself together.*
She flagged down a cab, slid into the back seat, and mumbled the name of the nearest hotel. When they arrived, she overpaid—a generous tip born from gratitude that the driver kept whatever he was thinking to himself. His silence was a mercy.
At the reception desk, her fingers drummed against the counter while the receptionist processed her card with agonizing slowness.
"Are you okay, ma'am?"
Amira nodded, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, antsy and unraveling. The key card finally appeared. She snatched it and fled to the elevator.
Once inside the room, she ordered room service—comfort food and a bottle of whiskey—then stripped methodically and stepped into the shower. She turned the water scalding hot, punishing. The heat couldn't wash away what she felt: the shame, the confusion, and the horrifying truth that some part of her had enjoyed what happened. That realization made her skin crawl.
But beneath all of it, she knew. This wasn't really about today. It was about her mother. About words that couldn't be unsaid and wounds that wouldn't close.
The food arrived. She ate mechanically, alternating between bites of ice cream and swigs of whiskey, each one punctuated by another wave of self-recrimination. How could you? What were you thinking? Why did you let it go that far?
Eventually, exhaustion won. She passed out sprawled across the bed, still dressed in the hotel robe.
When she woke, darkness pressed against the windows. Her head throbbed with the dull, insistent ache of dehydration and emotional hangover. She reached for her phone.
No callback from her mother. That stung worse than she wanted to admit.
What she did have: seventeen missed calls. Messages from Daniel, Chase, and James. Their names glowed accusingly on her screen, each notification a reminder of the mess she'd left behind.
Amira let the phone drop onto the mattress beside her. She closed her eyes again, sinking back into the pillows.
She was too drained to reply. Too empty to explain. For now, the darkness was enough.