Our Wet One Night Stand Started A War

Catalina

“I am sorry, you want to do what?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. I stared at Jake like he had just confessed to murder. He stood in the middle of our living room, pacing like a man trying to convince himself of a bad idea. His hands ran through his messy brown hair as if that would somehow make his request sound less insane.

An open relationship. Or worse, bringing another woman into our bed.

We had been together since high school, from awkward teenagers to adults who thought they knew what love meant. I had seen him grow from a skinny boy into a tall man with lean muscles and a face women liked to stare at. And now he was standing here, telling me he wanted to share what was ours, as if six years of loyalty had turned stale.

He kept talking, trying to sell it like some self-help experiment for couples. “It could bring us closer,” he said, his eyes darting anywhere but mine.

Closer? We lived together. We slept together. I had just let him come inside me last night while we watched a movie. How much closer did he want to get?

“So what you really mean,” I said slowly, “is that you want to fuck other women and still call yourself faithful. That's about right?”

“Catalina, it is not like that,” he insisted, panic showing in the way he kept moving. “If we both agree, it is not cheating. It is just… open.”

I laughed, low and bitter. “You want to have your cake and fuck it too. Tell me, was I not enough for you? Or do you just need something new to brag about?”

“I love you, Catalina. I do,” he said, stepping closer. “But do you not ever wonder what it would be like to be with someone else? We have only ever had each other.”

“Um, no,” I said flatly. “I am not curious. I am committed.”

“Just think about it. You might like it.”

I gave him a cold smile. “I might be open to a threesome, but only if it is with another man.”

His head snapped up. “Absolutely not. I am not touching another guy’s dick.”

I almost laughed. “Of course. It is only fun if it benefits you.”

He tried again, softer this time. “Look, we do not have to bring anyone home. We can keep it private. Just a few hook-ups, nothing serious. No falling in love. No one gets hurt.”

“Simple,” I repeated, my voice dry. “Jake, I thought we had something real.”

He sighed. “We do. But love does not mean ownership.”

I looked at him for a long second, feeling something inside me was changing. Then I nodded once. “Fine, Jake. You want it open? You got it.”

“Wait, Catalina, I did not mean right now…”

But I was already walking toward the bedroom.

I pulled open the closet and found the red dress he hated, the one that hugged my curves and stopped halfway up my thighs. I slipped it on, grabbed the five-inch heels that made my legs look longer, and caught my reflection in the mirror. My heart thudded once, but anger steadied me.

If he wanted to play games, I would show him how the game was really played.

I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The hot water steamed the mirror while I washed my hair and scrubbed my body clean. I shaved, rinsed, and stepped out, towel-drying my skin. My long black hair fell in curls to the middle of my back when I was done. I took my time with my makeup, bronze and brown around the eyes, red on the lips. The woman staring back at me looked fierce, dangerous, and absolutely done with Jake’s bullshit.

“You are enough,” I told my reflection. “There is nothing wrong with you. He is just having a crisis he cannot afford.”

I grabbed my clutch, dropped my phone, ID, a credit card, keys, and some cash into it, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked, his voice uncertain.

“Starting our open relationship,” I said. “Now’s the perfect time to get totally addicted to some amazing sex.”

“Catalina, come on, I did not mean now.”

I gave him a look that said everything I felt. “You made this bed, Jake. Now deal with it.”

I walked out before he could speak again. The night air fell on my skin and it was cool. I pulled out my phone and called my sister.

“Hello?” Jenna’s voice came through loud and wild, with laughter and male voices in the background.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“I am at the MC, babe. What is wrong?”

“I need to see you. It is urgent.”

She hesitated. “Catalina, are you sure? The Lords of Chaos are not exactly gentle with strangers.”

“Jenna, I can take care of myself. You know I can.”

Jenna laughed. “Yeah, like when you broke Michael Davis’s nose in freshman year. Dad almost lost his mind.”

I smiled despite myself. “Exactly like that. So, can I come?”

“Of course. I will tell the president you are coming. And Catalina, maybe dress to kill.”

“Already done.”

I hung up and booked a ride. The driver looked me over as I got in, his eyes lingering too long.

“Are you sure about the destination?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “The Lords of Chaos Motorcycle Club.”

He gave a low whistle. “You might be asking for trouble dressed like that.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

He laughed. “Fair enough. But if you are looking for a good time, I get off at midnight.”

He was cute, in a boyish way, but not the kind of danger I was in the mood for. I smiled faintly and said nothing.

Thirty minutes later, the car stopped outside the club. The place loomed behind a chain gate, loud music pulsing from inside. A short, stocky man stood guard. His leather vest read “Prospect,” and a dagger charm swung from his ear.

“What can I do for you, little lady?” he asked, eyeing me with amusement.

“I am here to see Jenna.”

He made a call, smirked at me, then opened the gate. “Go right in, sweetheart.”

As I walked past, he made a teasing sound. I turned, smiled, and winked. His laugh followed me as I approached the heavy door.

I paused, took one last breath, and muttered to myself, “Alright, bitch. Game face.”

Then I grabbed the handle and stepped inside.