The Gala
625 Words
Jason picked her up in a black town car.
She stepped out of her apartment and nearly knocked the breath out of him.
A deep red satin dress hugged her body like it was made for sin. The slit climbed dangerously high up one thigh. Her back was bare, her lips were painted blood-red, and her eyes… sparkled with quiet fire.
“You look…” he began, then shook his head.
Zara raised a brow. “Say it.”
“Like everyone’s going to hate me tonight because I’m the one who gets to touch you.”
Her lips curled. “They already hate you, Mr. Cole.”
He opened the car door with a half-smirk. “Then let them hate harder.”
---
The gala was everything she expected: elite, polished, dripping with champagne and calculated smiles.
But what she didn’t expect was Jason.
The way he stood beside her—not behind her, not in front of her, but with her.
He didn’t keep his distance. He placed his hand gently on the small of her back as they entered, whispered dry jokes in her ear between speeches, and looked at her like she was the only reason he bothered to show up.
And everyone noticed.
Executives. Sponsors. Even his ex-client, Vanessa.
They stared.
Zara stared right back.
---
“Didn’t know you were bringing someone,” Vanessa said with an icy smile.
Jason raised his glass. “Zara’s the best decision I’ve made all quarter.”
Zara didn’t flinch.
But Jason saw the twitch of amusement in her cheek—and the pride.
---
As the event wound down, Zara leaned close. “Ready to go?”
Jason’s hand tightened at her waist. “You have no idea.”
---
Back in the car, tension simmered.
He didn’t speak.
Neither did she.
But their bodies leaned closer with every mile. His fingers brushed her thigh once.
She didn’t stop him.
---
They barely made it through his front door.
Zara grabbed his blazer and yanked him forward. Their mouths crashed in a storm of silk, teeth, and heat. His hand found the slit in her dress and slid inside—slow, deliberate, sinful.
“You’ve been driving me insane all night,” he growled against her lips.
“Good.”
He backed her into the wall, then dropped to his knees in front of her. Her dress slipped up, his hands spreading her thighs as he kissed the inside of one, then the other.
“Jason,” she whispered, breath trembling.
“Let me,” he said, voice low and reverent.
And he did.
---
When he finally carried her to the bedroom, she was already undone.
But he wasn’t finished.
Jason laid her on the bed like she was something sacred. He stripped slowly this time—no anger, no rush. Just worship.
He kissed every inch of her skin.
Told her everything he never found the words to say.
“You make me feel like a man,” he whispered. “Not a title. Not a boss. Just a man who wants you.”
Then he slid into her.
Zara gasped, arching beneath him.
This time, it wasn’t rough.
It wasn’t angry.
It was… everything.
His hands in hers.
Her legs wrapped around him.
Their bodies moving in a slow, perfect rhythm.
When she came, it was with a cry and his name on her lips. And when he followed, it was with a groan into her neck, like he was anchoring himself to her.
---
They lay in the dark afterward.
Jason pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
Zara didn’t speak.
Neither did he.
But the silence felt full now. Heavy with something unspoken… but real.
- Writer
