Chapter 3: Truth or Scandal
The silence after the champagne flute exploded was absolute, a vacuum sucking all sound from the room before the nervous laughter erupted. Jennie had already stepped back, her lips slightly swollen, her gaze unreadable as it held Lisa’s for a searing moment before she turned and melted into the crowd. Lisa stood frozen, the taste of Jennie—champagne and something subtly sweet—still burning on her tongue. Somi’s hand was a claw on her bicep, nails breaking skin. “We’re leaving,” Somi breathed, the words vibrating with barely-contained fury. The ride down in the private elevator was a study in pressurized silence, Somi’s rage a physical heat beside her. In the back of the waiting town car, Somi didn’t speak, just slid her hand high up Lisa’s thigh, fingers digging into the muscle hard enough to bruise. Lisa stared at the blurring city lights, her mind replaying the shocking softness of Jennie’s mouth, the deliberate, searching pressure of her tongue. Inside Somi’s apartment, the door barely shut, Somi slammed Lisa against it, her mouth brutal, a punishment. “You liked that, you fucking slut,” she snarled, yanking Lisa’s shirt over her head. She shoved her towards the bedroom, a chaotic space smelling of sex and Somi’s perfume. “On the bed. Now.” Lisa obeyed, the numbness from the car shattering into a sharp, familiar dread. Somi stripped, her movements jerky, and climbed over her, not kissing, just biting at her neck, her collarbone. “She wouldn’t know what to do with you,” Somi hissed, her hand shoving between Lisa’s legs, finding her cock already half-hard from adrenaline and confusion. “She wouldn’t know how to fuck you like this.” She spat into her own hand, slicking Lisa roughly, then guided her inside with a single, brutal thrust. Lisa cried out, a mangled sound. “Quiet,” Somi ordered, riding her with a frantic, punishing rhythm, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “You’re mine. You come for me. Only for me.” Lisa climaxed, a shuddering, hollow release, her body convulsing under Somi’s relentless pace. Afterwards, as Somi slept curled possessively around her, Lisa stared at the ceiling, Jennie’s whisper echoing in the dark: Tell me that wasn’t the best kiss of your life. The truth, shameful and exhilarating, coiled tight in her gut. It was.