Page 52 of Forged

I lift a brow. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’s not meant to be fair, it’s meant to be a punishment. So, tell me, Bella,” he asks quietly, “are you skipping poker tonight?”

Air leaves my lungs in a shaky breath. “Yes.”

A satisfied smile touches his mouth. “Good,” he says, sliding his hand along my hip as he shifts off the bed. “Now let’s make coffee.”

WatchingNeomi apply lipstick might be my new kink. I lean against the doorframe while she stands in front of the mirror, focused and unhurried, applying her signature red shade with practiced precision. The way she presses her lips together, checks the edge, fixes it—it does something to me. Something dangerous because I want to make a mess of it. Once she caps the tube and sets it on the counter, my cock is already hard.

She slips into a short black dress next, the fabric hugging her body. The hem skims the tops of her thighs, and her back is bare, smooth skin exposed. Her golden hair falls loose over one shoulder in soft waves, and when she catches my reflection in the mirror, her smile curves slowly, and I know she’s fully aware of the effect she’s having on me.

“You look so fucking beautiful. I’m going to have to kill any man that looks at you tonight,” I say, my voice threatening.

She turns, adjusting an earring, her eyes lifting to meet mine in the mirror.

“Relax,” she says, amused. “It’s all for you, Lars.”

I step closer without thinking, my hands finding her waist as Istand behind her. She leans back into me instinctively. I take in the sight of us in the mirror and fuck, more and more she looks like my forever.

I lower my mouth to her neck. “Just know that I can’t be held responsible for my actions when you look like this.”

She laughs softly, tilting her head just enough to give me access. “Please, no killing spree at the club.”

“No promises,” I say, my grip tightening. “I will make it very clear who you belong to.”

Her gaze flicks to mine in the mirror again, heat sparking there. “Feeling possessive, husband?”

“You have no idea, Bella,” I reply, brushing my thumb along her waist, my cock thickening behind my zipper.

She hums thoughtfully, pushing her ass into my growing erection. “I think I do.”

She turns in my arms, and I take her in as my phone vibrates in my pocket.

“Car’s here. Let’s go, Bella.”

My cock will have to wait.

The club is already packedwhen we walk in. Lights flare over the space, bodies moving on the dance floor, and the bass rolling through the floor. The air smells like alcohol and anticipation. I guide us to the bar first, slipping into an empty space and flagging down the bartender.

“Shots?” she asks, eyes bright.

I arch a brow. “Do you remember what happens when we do shots?”

Her smile turns wicked. “Poor judgment and excellent outcomes if I remember correctly.”

I snort. “You’re right.”

The bartender quickly pours our drinks, and I hand her one. She clinks her glass to mine, and then we drink. The alcohol burnsthrough my already heated veins. She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the dance floor, weaving us through bodies.

The music swallows us whole when we find our place. My senses heighten as she begins to move. I make sure to check the balcony above and the people around us.

She presses her ass back into me as her hips move, her body notching against mine. My hands settle on her hips, and we move in unison. I love how our bodies always fall into a perfect rhythm together. It's as if our flesh knows a language that only we understand. Her head tips back, resting against my collarbone.

The music takes over—slow, heavy, and relentless. She moves against me, and fuck I want to make her come. My mouth finds her neck, skin warm as I press a line of kisses up to her jaw. She shivers, pressing closer, and something inside me snaps. I turn her to face me, my hand finds the top of her ass, and I press her against me. Her hooded eyes peer up into mine as she rocks her hips against my dick.

My hand slides up her thigh, under the hem of her dress, until my hand is hidden between our bodies. I hold her tight as I find the apex between her thighs and press my thumb against her clit. The lace presses against her as I start firm circles. Her movement falters for a moment before she melts into me, clutching my forearms like she needs the anchor.

“Lars,” she whimpers, my name lost in the music.