The mirror loved her tonight. Mika stood in front of it half-dressed, her robe slipping from one bare shoulder, lips red with a touch of gloss, hair pinned just messily enough to suggest she hadn't tried too hard — when in fact, she'd tried exactly hard enough. She looked like someone you'd pay to ruin you.
Three red cards lay on her dresser. Three VIPs. Back-to-back. All new.
The Madame's voice still echoed in her ear:
"Be flexible, be open, and let them want more. But never let them take everything."
Mika closed her robe, exhaled once, and headed down the velvet-lined hall toward the silver suite.
Inside, the first man waited: a man in his forties, sharply dressed but relaxed, seated with his legs open, like he already owned the room. He didn't stand when she walked in, but his gaze moved over her body slowly, greedily.
"You're even more stunning in person," he said. "And I hear you're very… thorough."
Mika smiled. "Only if you're very generous."
He laughed. "I plan to be."
He didn't ask her to dance, didn't ask her to undress. He just patted his thigh, and she crossed the room with that slow, practiced sway that made every step a tease. She straddled his lap, facing him, her robe parting just enough for him to see the lace underneath.
"Touch me," she said simply.
His hands found her thighs. They were warm, confident, not rough. He slid one hand beneath her robe, pushing it open, his fingers brushing against her waist, her ribs, her breasts. Mika watched him watch her — his eyes heavy, his mouth half open.
She leaned in, let her lips just barely graze his earlobe. "You're allowed to take your time."
And he did.
His hands moved up her back, down her arms. Slow. Appreciative. She shifted in his lap slightly, letting him feel her weight, her warmth. When she rolled her hips just once, experimentally, he groaned beneath her.
"You're going to be trouble," he murmured.
"I already am."
She unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, then trailed kisses down his chest. He leaned back, hands gripping the chair. She kissed lower, her lips just grazing his waistband. Her fingers undid his belt without a sound. She was smooth, sure — years of hesitation now gone from her touch.
But she stopped there. Just a tease. Not yet.
"I want you hard," she whispered. "For when I come back."
"Back?" he said, breathless.
"I have two more guests tonight. But I'll be thinking of you while they warm me up."
He groaned, visibly harder at the idea. Mika slipped off his lap, closed her robe, and left him there — aching, hungry, ready.
Outside the room, the air was cooler, and Mika's pulse finally spiked.
One down.
The second man was younger. Thirties, maybe late twenties. Tall, in a black turtleneck and fitted pants. He stood as she entered, like he was meeting a celebrity.
"You're Mika," he said, reverent.
"I am," she said, stepping closer.
His nervousness was clear, but so was his fascination. She took his hand — cold — and placed it gently on her waist.
"Let me show you how this works."
She led him to the edge of the bed, pushed him to sit, and crawled between his knees. Her hands went to his thighs first, firm and steady, then to his chest. She guided his fingers to her lips and kissed them, one by one.
His eyes fluttered shut.
She whispered things — dirty, gentle, addicting — while her hands wandered. He gasped when her mouth met his neck, then his jaw, then lower. She had him moaning quietly in minutes, and all she did was let him touch her, taste her skin, whisper his name against her collarbone.
Before it could go further, she pulled away. "You'll have to wait," she said softly.
"I—what?" He blinked, dazed.
"I'll be back. And when I am, I want your hands on me. Everywhere."
He was breathless. "I… yes. Please."
Mika kissed his lips—slow, deep, possessive—and stood.
Last room. The third client was different.
A woman.
She was standing near the minibar, pouring herself a drink, wearing black heels, red lipstick, and a silk shirt so sheer it dared Mika to look. Their eyes met in the mirror first.
"You made me wait," the woman said, amused.
"You're worth the wait," Mika answered.
The woman turned. "That's my line."
They walked to each other slowly, like a dance. Mika let herself be pulled in, let her cheek brush the woman's shoulder, let her lips land softly on her neck. The scent of amber and wine curled around her like smoke.
Hands slid into her hair. A kiss caught her mouth.
This was no shy, exploratory client. This was someone who knew how to touch. The kiss deepened instantly—no permission needed. Tongues teased. Mika let her hands slide around the woman's waist, fingers digging into the soft silk.
"Don't keep me waiting again," the woman said.
"Then don't let me leave."
Mika was pushed to the bed. The robe was open now, bare skin catching the glow of the bedside lamp. The woman climbed on top of her, straddling her thighs. They kissed again — harder this time — and when her hand cupped Mika between her legs, Mika gasped out loud.
But before she could moan again, the woman stopped.
"Three clients in one night," she said, eyes dark. "Let's see if you're worth the price."
Mika's breath caught as the woman's palm pressed between her thighs, fingers teasing just enough to make her hips lift. The silk robe was parted wide now, falling from her shoulders like a surrender, her skin glowing in the low amber light. The woman hovered above her, watching her reaction like it was the show she came for.
"You're wet already," the woman said softly, like it pleased her.
Mika nodded slowly, lips parted. "They warmed me up."
The woman leaned down, kissing the words right off her mouth — a deep, slow kiss that spread warmth all through her limbs. Their tongues touched like they were tasting secrets. The woman's hand moved again, deliberate now, pressing and rubbing, making Mika's legs part further, her breath grow shaky.
"You let them touch you?" she asked between kisses.
"Not like this," Mika whispered.
The woman smiled — dangerous and smug. "Good."
Then her mouth was moving — down Mika's neck, across her collarbone, between her breasts. She kissed slowly, deliberately, savoring every inch like she had all night. When her lips brushed Mika's nipple, warm and soft, Mika arched into it with a soft gasp.
"You taste expensive," the woman murmured.
Mika laughed, breathless. "I am."
The woman's tongue flicked again, this time harder. Mika's hands tangled in her dark hair, trying to hold on — trying not to writhe.
And then she slipped lower.
Her mouth kissed a trail down Mika's stomach, slow, teasing, until her lips hovered just above where Mika wanted them most. She looked up once, meeting Mika's eyes.
"No one's eaten you properly tonight, have they?"
Mika shook her head. "Not yet."
"Then let me be first."
Her mouth pressed between Mika's legs, soft and hot and immediate. Mika cried out — a strangled sound of shock and relief. The woman was good — too good — her tongue working in steady, teasing strokes that sent heat rushing through Mika's chest, her thighs shaking already.
"Oh—fuck," Mika gasped, fingers tightening in the sheets.
The woman licked with purpose — alternating soft laps with sharp flicks that made Mika moan louder. Every motion was patient, practiced, devastating. She sucked gently, then harder, her hands gripping Mika's thighs and holding them apart with command. Mika couldn't stop moving. Couldn't stop gasping.
Every time her moan hit the ceiling, the woman moaned back into her — the vibration sending another rush of pleasure through her hips.
"You're going to come for me," the woman said, her voice low, teasing, wet against Mika's skin.
"Yes—" Mika gasped, arching.
One hand slid up Mika's body, pinching her nipple while her tongue circled and pressed and licked.
"Louder," the woman said.
And Mika was louder — hips jerking, breath coming fast. Her climax was sudden, sharp, like the crack of a match. She cried out, shaking, legs trying to close but held firmly open as the woman licked through every wave of it — not stopping until Mika was panting, sweating, eyes wide and glassy.
She collapsed back onto the bed, trembling.
The woman climbed up beside her and kissed her, licking her own taste from Mika's lips. "You're mine now."
Mika just smiled, breathless. "For now."
Ten minutes later, Mika walked back into the silver suite — her robe now gone completely. She wore only lace underwear and the memory of a climax that still burned in her thighs.
The older man was standing now. Shirt off, pants unbuckled. He let out a low whistle.
"Looks like someone had dessert before dinner."
Mika approached slowly, sensually, hands on his chest, eyes glinting. "I'm ready now."
She knelt in front of him without being told. Her fingers curled around his waistband, lowering his pants. His cock sprang free — hard, thick, veined — and she gave a soft, approving smile.
"God, you're beautiful," he groaned.
Mika's hands wrapped around him, warm and slow. She stroked him once, then twice, her lips hovering just above the head. She looked up at him through her lashes.
"Do you want my mouth?"
"Yes," he breathed.
Her lips closed around him — hot, wet, and slow. She took him inch by inch, her tongue gliding under the shaft, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him deeper. His head dropped back, groaning low in his throat.
Mika bobbed her head gently, using one hand to stroke what she couldn't take, the other hand sliding up his thigh. Her mouth worked him skillfully — a rhythm that built, teasing then taking, stopping just before it was too much.
"Fuck—don't stop," he begged.
She didn't. She swallowed him deeper, moaning softly around him, letting him feel the vibration in her throat. His hands moved to her head, but she gently pushed them away — she wanted to control this.
She pulled off with a pop and smiled. "Not yet. I'm not done teasing."
Then she stood and guided him to the bed.
The older man was still catching his breath when the younger one walked in — leaner, shirtless, tattoos trailing down his arms like stories never told.
His eyes moved from Mika's bare body to the flushed skin of the older man's chest, then back to Mika's mouth, still slick from what she'd just done.
"So," the younger man said with a smirk, "are we sharing tonight?"
Mika answered by reaching out and grabbing his belt, pulling him toward her. Her fingers undid the buckle, her eyes never leaving his. The tension shifted — not competition, not quite. But something electric crackled between them now.
"You're late," Mika whispered.
"I'm right on time," he replied.
She pushed his pants down, freeing him. He was already hard, long and slightly curved, darker at the head. Her lips parted slightly, and she knelt again, but this time she didn't go slow. She sucked him in deep right away, one hand still stroking the older man's cock beside her.
They watched her — both of them — as she worked. Her mouth sliding from one to the other. Alternating between them like she couldn't decide who she wanted more. One thick and wide, the other long and pulsing. Her hands and lips stayed busy, her moans vibrating around them.
"You're fucking perfect," the older man groaned.
The younger one grunted, fisting her hair as she bobbed down harder on him. "Look at her. Taking us both like a dream."
Mika looked up at them with a slick mouth and greedy eyes. "I'm not done."
She stood, guided them both to the bed. The older man lay back first, and Mika climbed on top of him, guiding him into her slowly, gasping as he stretched her open. His hands gripped her hips, grounding her.
But she didn't move yet.
She looked at the younger man, who stood at the edge of the bed, cock still hard in his hand. She reached for him, pulling him close, and when he stepped forward, she took him into her mouth again — her body riding one while her lips worshiped the other.
It was messy. Intense. The sound of skin and breath and need filled the room.
"Jesus," the older man groaned, thrusting up into her from below.
The younger one cursed, his hips rocking into her mouth.
Mika was wild now — sweat slicked down her back, her moans growing louder, pleasure building from both ends. She felt owned and powerful at the same time.
"You want to come, baby?" the younger one asked.
She nodded around his cock.
"Not yet," the older man growled. "She hasn't screamed for us yet."
The younger man pulled out of her mouth, grabbing her face gently, forcing her to look at him.
"You're going to, though. You're going to scream when we both fuck you."
Mika gasped, pulse racing. "Yes. Please."
He pulled her off the older man and turned her onto all fours.
Then came the pressure again — one sliding into her from behind, thick and slow, while the other pressed in front, guiding himself to her mouth. She opened eagerly.
And just like that, she was filled again — both ends — taken and used and aching for more.
The rhythm built — the room echoing with grunts, moans, Mika's wet gasps and helpless cries. Hands gripped her waist, hair, thighs. Her body rocked between them, pleasure overwhelming every inch of her.
She came again, hard — sobbing into the younger man's cock, her body jerking as the older man fucked her through it.
It didn't stop.
They kept going.
And Mika loved every second of it.
The room pulsed with heat, air thick with sweat and the scent of sex. Mika's body trembled, but she didn't want it to end — not yet. Every nerve was alive. Her thighs ached, her lips swollen, her skin flushed from being touched, stretched, filled, and used.
But there was more.
The younger man leaned over her back, his breath hot on her neck. "Still want more?"
Mika nodded, but he pulled her hair and whispered, "Say it."
"I want more," she gasped. "Please."
The older man sat on the edge of the bed, his cock hard again, glistening with her slick. "Then let's give her more."
He lay back, pulling Mika onto him once again, his hands guiding her hips until she was seated on his cock, already throbbing inside her. She groaned, her walls clenching around him, the stretch somehow deeper this time — fuller.
Then she felt the other one behind her again. He leaned in, spreading her cheeks slowly, deliberately, his fingers teasing around her entrance.
She froze.
"Ever had two at once?" he asked, voice low, but edged with heat.
Mika's breath caught. She shook her head.
"Do you want it?"
She hesitated — but only for a second. "Yes. Please. I want both of you."
The younger man kissed down her spine, slow and deliberate. "Relax for me."
His fingers worked her open, gently at first, stretching her, preparing her. The pressure was new — a delicious kind of ache. She whimpered as the second cock began to press in behind the first, slowly, inch by inch. Her whole body tensed, then shuddered as he filled her.
Full.
So full.
It was too much — and exactly what she craved.
They didn't move at first. Letting her adjust. Letting her feel.
Then the rhythm started. Slow, synchronized. One pulling back while the other pressed deeper. Mika gasped, her fingers gripping the older man's chest, nails digging into his skin. She couldn't speak — only moan, cry out, drown in sensation.
"Look at her," the younger one groaned, holding her hips tight. "Taking us both. Fuck."
Her eyes fluttered open. The mirror on the wall showed everything — her caught between them, body trembling, jaw slack with pleasure. The sight made her clench around them both, pulling a groan from deep in the older man's throat.
She came hard — again — hips jerking, eyes rolling back. And they didn't stop.
She was bent forward now, ass in the air, lips parted and wet from panting. The older man fucked her from behind, fast and deep, while the younger one kissed her, then slid his cock into her mouth again, groaning as her tongue wrapped around him.
Every thrust hit something perfect. Every moan fed the hunger in them all.
The younger man pulled out, gripped his cock, and pressed it against her lips. "Want me to come on your face?"
She nodded, desperate.
But the older man wasn't done either — he pulled out with a gasp and stroked himself behind her, eyes dark with hunger.
They surrounded her, panting, pumping themselves over her glistening, spent body.
She opened her mouth wide.
"Good girl," one whispered.
And they both came — one thick rope across her cheek, the other over her tongue and lips, hot and messy. She closed her eyes and moaned, licking it clean as their hands gently stroked her hair, down her spine, over her thighs.
She collapsed onto the bed, still trembling, body raw and aching — but glowing.
"Holy shit," the younger man muttered, breathless. "That was…"
The older man kissed her shoulder. "We're not done with her."
Mika smiled, dazed. "Then don't stop."
The room had quieted, but the tension hadn't gone anywhere.
Mika lay stretched across the bed, one leg tangled in the sheets, her bare skin flushed and glowing. Between her thighs, she still throbbed — used, aching, and somehow already craving more. Her breath was steady now, but her heart raced when she felt one of them behind her again.
The younger man slid into the bed beside her, tracing a hand down the curve of her hip. "You're still shaking," he murmured.
Mika turned to him, eyes half-lidded. "I'm not finished."
He grinned, leaning in to kiss her, slower this time. His tongue teased hers, and when he pulled back, he studied her like he was learning her all over again. "Good," he whispered. "Because I'm not done tasting you."
He shifted downward, his lips dragging a trail of soft kisses across her stomach. She opened her legs automatically, breath catching in anticipation. His hands spread her thighs wider, and his mouth found her again — slowly now, gently. His tongue flicked, then flattened. The teasing had purpose. The rhythm was maddening.
Mika whimpered, head rolling back against the pillow. "Please…"
He looked up, lips slick. "Tell me how you want it."
"Deep," she gasped. "Don't stop."
He obeyed.
His tongue worked her folds with skill — deliberate strokes that made her legs twitch. He sucked on her clit just hard enough to make her cry out, then flicked it softly until she was writhing. His fingers slipped inside her, curling just right. It was too good — she was too sensitive, too wet, too full of everything they'd done before.
But he didn't stop.
He held her thighs open as she trembled, her hips bucking into his face, her cries loud and raw. He devoured her like he'd been starving — like she was the only thing that could satisfy him.
She came again, body spasming, gasping his name.
The older man moved closer now, his body pressing behind hers. He kissed her neck, stroked her arm, and whispered into her ear, "I want to make you come while he watches."
Mika didn't even have time to answer.
He slid into her from behind, slow, deep, unrelenting. Her pussy clenched around him, still soaked and sensitive from the orgasm she hadn't finished riding out. She whimpered, eyes rolling as he filled her.
"That's it," he whispered, his hand gripping her breast. "Let me in again."
The younger man moved to the side, watching, stroking himself slowly as Mika was fucked from behind — every thrust deep and patient, like he wanted her to feel it in her spine. Her moans became sobs, her mouth slack as the rhythm overwhelmed her.
The pressure returned, hotter now, emotional, like every movement meant something.
"You feel everything, don't you?" the older man groaned. "Every inch."
She nodded, unable to speak.
He wrapped a hand around her throat, gently pulling her head back. "You belong here."
The words hit somewhere deeper than she expected.
The younger man leaned in and kissed her again. She whimpered into his mouth as the older man fucked her harder, the angle changing, the friction perfect. Her body was on fire — and all of it was for them.
"I'm going to come again," she whispered, delirious.
"Let go," they both whispered.
And she did — crying out as her body locked up, another orgasm crashing through her. The older man spilled into her a second later, groaning as he emptied himself deep inside her, hips still twitching.
The room was silent now, except for the sounds of breath and skin and the softness of lips brushing against her shoulder.
Mika was limp between them, utterly undone.
But her smile was pure satisfaction.
"Still alive?" the younger man asked with a teasing grin.
She let out a breathless laugh. "Barely."
The room had dimmed to a golden hush, shadows curling along the edges of the bedsheets like softened smoke. Outside the windows, the city buzzed faintly, distant and irrelevant now. In here, only the warmth of bodies remained — tangled, damp, and still pulsing with the heat of what they'd just done.
Mika lay in the center of the king-sized bed, chest rising and falling as if she'd just run a marathon. Her limbs were heavy with pleasure, a pleasant ache settling into her thighs and hips. Sweat slicked her skin, but she didn't mind. It made everything feel real. Earned.
Beside her, one of the men — the older one, steady and quiet — traced the slope of her back with his fingertips. Up and down. Slow and rhythmic, like a heartbeat. His other hand rested on her hip, grounding her, claiming her without pressure.
"You're beautiful when you're completely ruined," he murmured, his voice low and full of warmth.
Mika turned her head just enough to meet his gaze. He wasn't smiling, not quite. It was something softer — a look that hovered between reverence and restraint.
She swallowed, lips parted, but didn't speak.
The younger man was on her other side now, propped up on one elbow, watching her like she was still unraveling in front of him. He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek and leaned down to kiss her forehead, then the corner of her mouth.
"You okay?" he whispered.
She nodded slowly. "I… yeah. I just need to remember how to breathe."
He chuckled, his lips brushing her shoulder. "You earned a rest."
But she didn't want to rest. Not fully. Not yet.
Her hand slid beneath the sheet, fingers grazing the younger man's stomach. She felt the heat of his skin, the tension still lingering beneath his surface. He inhaled sharply but didn't stop her. His body leaned into her touch — eager, waiting, maybe even hoping.
"I don't want this to be over yet," she murmured, her voice hoarse but sure.
The older man pressed his lips to her nape. "It's not."
They shifted around her, slow and reverent now, as if the frenzy had burned away something deeper. Hands smoothed over her thighs, her stomach, her chest — not to ignite, but to soothe. To worship.
She stretched out on her back as the sheets slipped away, exposing skin still glowing with the aftermath. Their hands moved in tandem, fingers dancing along her ribs, her collarbone, the insides of her arms. Every touch was slow. Every kiss lingered.
She felt like a canvas being painted on — a woman unraveling for the second time, not through friction and speed, but through devotion.
"I didn't expect this," she whispered, her throat tight with something that wasn't quite tears.
The younger man looked down at her. "Expect what?"
"This… closeness. After."
He tilted his head, brushing her cheek with his knuckles. "Because it wasn't just sex."
The words landed hard.
The older man kissed her shoulder again, his breath warm. "It never was."
Silence fell between them. Not awkward — just thick with possibility.
They lay there together, not rushing. Letting hands wander. Letting lips explore slower paths. Every inch of her body was reacquainted with their mouths — not to conquer this time, but to claim gently. Every kiss on her thighs, her stomach, her breasts made her feel seen. Adored. Like she was more than a body — and yet still gloriously, wonderfully that too.
She moaned softly as fingers grazed her again, sliding over sensitive skin, teasing rather than demanding. She parted her legs with a sigh, inviting more — but not for climax. For connection.
Their rhythm had changed, but the hunger hadn't.
It just knew her better now.
Mika's body felt like silk unwound — soft, bare, and impossibly sensitive to every breath against her skin. Her muscles trembled in small waves as the men kissed her again, not with urgency this time, but with something deeper. Something that threatened to linger.
The older man had positioned himself behind her now, pressing warm, slow kisses along the curve of her spine. His lips brushed each vertebra like a promise. Every press made her arch, offering more of herself to his mouth. Meanwhile, the younger one settled between her legs again, head bent reverently as if praying.
Their touch didn't chase climax this time — not immediately. It worshiped. It lingered.
Mika let out a soft gasp as lips moved lower, brushing the inside of her thigh. She could feel his breath on her now, and her fingers curled into the sheets, heart drumming hard again. She wasn't sure how she still had anything left to give — and yet her body surged forward, aching to be filled, tasted, touched.
He kissed the place just above her core, then below, teasing her until she whimpered — not from denial, but from the unbearable sweetness of being desired like this. When his tongue finally slid over her, it was slow and careful, tracing her with familiarity now, not exploration. Like he'd memorized every part of her.
The man behind her cradled her waist, holding her steady as her hips bucked. His mouth moved to her shoulder blade, dragging heat into her bones. He whispered something — she didn't catch it, not through the haze — but it made her shiver.
She was being devoured and held. Taken and cherished.
Her moans were different now. Not sharp and ragged — but deeper, needier. The kind of sound you make when you're surrendering, not just your body… but something else.
One of them whispered her name. The other moaned against her skin.
The tension built again — not like a firestorm, but like a tide. Inevitable. Pulling her under. Her thighs trembled as pleasure swept through her slowly, almost cruel in how gently it climbed.
When it broke, she cried out — not loud, not feral, but beautifully broken. The release rippled through her like silk unraveling.
They held her through it. One kissing her mouth. The other murmuring words she didn't fully hear.
And when it passed, the room fell into breath again. Warm, shared breath.
She collapsed back into the sheets, blinking up at the ceiling. The younger man kissed her collarbone and murmured, "Still breathing?"
"Barely," she said, smiling.
The older man nestled close behind her, pulling the sheet up gently over her hip. She felt his heartbeat against her spine, steady and slow. Their limbs intertwined now, not with lust — but with comfort.
Mika closed her eyes.
She wasn't sure what this was. She only knew it didn't feel like just another night.
And that terrified her a little.