Midnight Affairs: Tokyo Secret Wives Club

The message came at 8:04 PM.

Fuyumi: Riku… come play tonight. I'm already dressed for you.

No address. Just a red pin glowing on his screen.

A place he didn't know. A club hidden behind the neon bones of Tokyo.

Something seedier. Louder. Unfiltered.

___

Club name: Velvet Sin

He stood at the entrance, under that blood-red glow, heart thudding imagining the anticipation of what tonight brings.

Riku barely went to places like this. Bars weren't his scene. The noise. The smell. The drunk, grinding desperation.

But tonight?

He wasn't here to drink.

He was here because she summoned him, like some forbidden craving she knew he couldn't ignore.

Said she was already dressed for him.

And that one line haunted his every thought.

Inside, the air clung to his skin like sweat.

Smoke curled through violet lights.

Bass pulsed through bodies pressed too close, moving like they needed something they hadn't gotten in years.

And there, on a raised platform in the back....like some goddamn offering....was Fuyumi.

Fuck.

Black silk. No straps. No shame. Just curves and legs and hunger in her eyes.

She didn't smile. She didn't wave.

She turned around, slowly, and bent over the rail of her platform. One leg stretched high. Her hips rolled with the music.

Every beat was her grinding down the air. For him.

She knew he was watching.

She didn't care who else did.

Her eyes said it all:

"Every inch of me tonight is yours, don't waste a single second."

He walked.

No....stalked...through the crowd. Shoving through sweat and perfume and whispers.

People saw him and stepped back.

Because whatever was on his face wasn't subtle.

He wanted to take her.

And when he reached the edge of that platform, she didn't wait.

She stepped off it like gravity meant nothing, dropped into his lap in a single move.

Wrapped her legs around his waist.

Started grinding.

Slow at first. Then deeper. Hips heavy. Deliberate.

Riku's hands went to her ass without a thought. Gripped it like it was already his.

"This what you dressed for?" he growled against her ear.

She moaned, bit his neck.

"I've been soaked since I sent that text."

Her body pulsed against him, heat soaking through, if anything at all separated them.

"I want to fuck you right here."

She laughed dark. "You won't."

"Why not?"

She leaned in, her voice velvet.

"Don't rush it. Let me take the lead tonight. I want to show you just how deep my hunger goes."

"I've been craving you all week," she murmured. "Let me start by making that mouth of yours go quiet while I take care of what's really aching."

"No more waiting. I want to feel you twitching in my mouth before I let you inside me."

She leaned in one last time, lips brushing his jaw.

"I'll be waiting, baby. Get ready to feel things you didn't know you were missing."

Then she turned, hips swaying, and disappeared into the back, not even looking back.

A moment later, his phone buzzed.

Fuyumi:

"Private Room 6. Come claim your masterpiece."

___

He stepped into the room and shut the door.

She was waiting.

Hair wild, lips parted, corset loose enough to show the top swell of her tits, skirt hiked so high one wrong move would show him everything. Her heels were off, feet planted wide like she owned the floor.

Fuyumi didn't speak.

She just looked at him like she already imagining his cock in her mouth.

Riku leaned back into the velvet couch, legs spread, jaw tight. Watching her. No words. Just that heat in his eyes.

She moved toward him, not dancing, just coming for him.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, stopping between his legs.

She planted one foot on the cushion beside him and leaned in. Her tits brushed his chest.

"You want it that badly?"

"I don't want it," he said. "I want you."

She smiled.

"Then shut up," she breathed, "and let me melt on your lap 'til you forget your own name."

She climbed onto him, straddling his thighs, grinding her bare cunt right against his cock. No panties. Just heat and slick through layers of clothing.

"Feel that?" she whispered, grinding harder. "I've been soaked since your name lit up my screen."

He didn't flinch.

"I could feel it from across the room."

"You gonna sit there like a statue?" she whispered against his ear. "Or are you gonna fuck me like you promised?"

"Not until you beg for it," he said.

She started moving.

Slow. Deep. Dirty.

Not bouncing, grinding. Letting her clit drag up the ridge of his cock through his slacks. Over and over.

Her breath hitched, sharp and needful.

He grabbed her hips.

Not to stop her.

To feel all of it.

"You're soaked already," he murmured.

"Dripping."

"Rubbing yourself off like a desperate little girl."

Her laugh was breathless. "You love it."

He tilted his head.

"You think I'm gonna come in my pants before I even fuck you?"

She grinned.

"I think you're close."

She pressed down harder.

And he groaned.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Just like that. Feel me? I could do this all night. Grind on your cock 'til I soak your fucking lap."

His hands slid down to her ass, fingers digging in.

"You're a fucking menace," he growled. "You know that?"

"You like me messy."

"I like you on your knees."

She slipped off him in a flash, dropping to her knees, mouth already parting as she undid his belt.

"Eyes on me," she said, voice low. "I want you to remember the way I devour you."

She wrapped her fingers around him, pulling him out, hard, thick, and flushed with heat. She'd seen it before, felt it stretch her in ways nothing else ever had… and yet, the moment it sprang free, her breath still hitched.

"God," she whispered, eyes widening. "How does it still shock me?"

"You missed this?" he asked.

She looked up.

"I imagine about this every moment ."

She'd done this once before. And still… the sheer weight of him, the way he throbbed in her palm, made her throat tighten in anticipation.

She angled her face up, eyes dark and teasing but honest.

"When the hell am I going to get used to this?" she murmured, stroking slowly from base to tip. "You're not built for normal girls, you know that, right?"

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to the swollen head, letting her tongue circle it, testing the waters again. But the moment she tried to take him deeper, her throat pushed back, gagging slightly. She pulled off with a wet gasp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and laughing breathlessly.

"Damn," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desire. "You're going to ruin my throat."

Still, she didn't stop.

Her hand guided him back toward her lips, determination glinting in her eyes.

"One day I'll take all of you without flinching."

She kissed him again.

"But tonight, I'll try my best. For you."

She sucked like she'd starved for it. Gagging slightly, spit trailing down her chin, her fingers tight around the base. Each bob of her head sent wet, obscene sounds bouncing off the red velvet walls.

Riku growled low. One hand in her hair, the other gripping the arm of the couch.

"You're not faking that, are you?" he muttered.

She pulled off and looked up at him.

"Do I look like I'm faking?"

"You look ruined."

She smirked, bit the inside of his thigh, then climbed back up.

But now her tits were bare. And her cunt left a wet mark across his cock as she rolled her hips again.

"You feel that?" she said, voice lower now, almost a whimper. "That's me begging for it."

Riku leaned forward and bit her shoulder. Hard.

She gasped.

"Again."

He did it again. Then dragged his mouth down to her chest and sucked a nipple between his teeth.

Her whole body arched.

He slipped a hand between them, fingers spreading her folds, already soaked.

"You gonna come just from grinding on me like a pathetic slut?" he said, sliding two fingers inside.

She cried out.

And that sound...raw, wrecked...made him shove them deeper.

"Riku...Ahhh....fuck....yes....fuck..."

"Say it louder."

"Please," she gasped. "Don't stop...don't stop...fuck, your fingers....."

He curled them and felt her clamp around him. Tight. Pulsing.

"You're coming, aren't you?" he said.

She couldn't answer.

Her whole body trembled, arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder as she fell apart in his lap.

When it was over, she was still panting.

Still shaking.

Still on him.

"You're not going home alone tonight," he murmured.

"I'm not going home at all unless you carry me."

He pulled his fingers out slow. Held them up between them.

"Lick them."

She did. Without breaking eye contact.

And he nearly groaned again.

"Get dressed," he said, voice rough and low.

She didn't move right away. Still breathless, lips parted, her dress half-tugged up around her thighs. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and want.

"Where are you taking me?" she whispered, voice laced with heat.

He smirked, closing the space between them until his mouth was at her ear, breath warm and dangerous.

"You said your husband's out... and your house is empty. Right?"

She shivered.

"So?"

His hand slid under her thighs, lifting her in one swift motion—effortless, like she weighed nothing. A little gasp escaped her as he adjusted his grip, holding her tight in a princess carry.

"So, I'm taking you home."

A pause, lips brushing her jaw.

"To remind you what it feels like when someone touches you like you deserve."

She hooked her arms around his neck, laughing in that breathy, wicked way of hers.

"You always do this, talk like you're doing me a favor."

He carried her through the hallway, past curious eyes and secretive smiles. The bass from the club pulsed behind them, but it was all background noise now.

"I'm not doing you a favor," he murmured, tightening his grip as they neared the exit. "I'm claiming what's already mine."

Heads turned as they stepped into the night, her in his arms, her hair tousled, dress a little too high, heels dangling from her fingers. No one said anything, but the knowing smiles followed them out like whispers.

She tilted her head against his chest.

"You're not playing fair anymore."

He grinned.

"I stopped playing the moment you moaned my name."

____

Author's Note:

Well… they've officially left the club.

But what happens next, behind closed doors, with no one watching?

Should Riku let her tease and take the lead first, only to flip the script halfway and show her who really owns her body?

Or do you want him to be in control from the start, no more games, just raw dominance, room to room, until she forgets her own name?

You decide.

Drop your favorite idea for their homecoming scene , the steamier, the better. I might just use your suggestion in the next chapter.

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