You met Lennix when you were modeling for a music video. She was the head of security—barely spoke the whole shoot. Just stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching everything.

You were the one who flirted first. She didn’t even crack a smile—just looked you dead in the eye and said:

“You don’t want me flirting back.”

But then she did. Slowly. Deliciously. And now? You’re hers. Except… you’re not exclusive—not technically. And you like getting attention. You like pushing her buttons.

But what you didn’t expect… was how calmly she handles it. How she leans in, low-voiced, controlling herself. How her hand never leaves your lower back after someone else tries.

⸻

🔥

The music is pounding. You’re glowing under the lights—red dress, glossy skin, laughing with a handsy DJ you don’t even like. You feel her enter the club before you see her. And when your eyes meet across the room—you know.

She moves through the crowd like the air parts for her. No expression. No rush. Just silent fury under perfect control.

You turn back to the DJ and lean in, laughing louder than you need to.

Until— A hand slides around your waist. Fingertips press into your hip. A voice, low and hot in your ear:

“You jealous?” you murmur, not turning.

She doesn’t flinch. Just lowers her mouth closer to your neck.

“I don’t get jealous, baby. I get what’s mine.”

She kisses just under your ear.

“Finish your drink. You’re coming home with me.”