The penthouse in Tribeca was vibrating.
The bass from the custom sound system rattled the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline.
It was supposed to be a "small gathering" to break in the new place, but in typical New York fashion, it had mutated into a full-blown rager.
The sprawling living room was packed with bodies.
There were models who looked like they had walked off a runway five minutes ago, influencers live-streaming their existence, and hangers-on who smelled like expensive cologne and desperation.
Caterers in black vests weaved through the crowd with trays of hors d'oeuvres that looked more like art than food.
Donovan stood near the balcony, watching the chaos. He grabbed a mini-quiche from a passing tray. "Hey, does this have cinnamon? I'm allergic."
"No, sir," the caterer said, looking terrified. "It's truffle and gruyère."
"Good looks," Donovan nodded, popping it into his mouth.
He scanned the room. He saw A-list celebrities he definitely hadn't invited. There was a famous rapper arguing with a DJ about the playlist.
There was an actor from a superhero movie doing shots at the bar.
He kept scanning, hoping to see a familiar blonde bob, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Margot had heard about the party and decided to crash it. But she was nowhere to be found.
Instead, there were actual crashers. Security was currently escorting two guys out near the elevator.
"I'm with him!" one of the crashers shouted, pointing desperately across the room at Donovan.
Donovan narrowed his eyes. "Hell no," he shouted over the music. "Them motherfuckers ain't with me!"
Security dragged them out.
Donovan turned away, finding a relatively quiet corner near the kitchen. Standing there, looking slightly out of place in a polo shirt, was Seth Curry.
"There he is," Donovan grinned, dapping him up. "My shooter."
"What's up, man," Seth smiled.
"How you been? I'm surprised you signed," Donovan admitted. "Thought you'd go chase a bag somewhere else."
"Honestly, I wasn't going to, if I'm being honest," Seth said, taking a sip of his drink. "Till I found out you were the one who made the call. Stella pitched it like we were going to be the new Splash Brothers."
"We are," Donovan promised. "How did he take it? Steph?"
"You know him," Seth shrugged. "Just wondering if it's something he did. He's sensitive like that."
"I don't feel like I owe him an explanation," Donovan said coldly. "Business is business."
Two women, clearly looking for an in, approached them. They were stunning, dressed in outfits that cost more than Seth's contract.
"I want to introduce you to someone," Donovan started, gesturing to the women.
"I'm already in a serious relationship," Seth interjected quickly, raising his hand.
"Oh," Donovan blinked.
"Yeah, I got a kid already," Seth laughed. "I got a baby girl who's two months old. I'm on diaper duty usually."
"So, why you here man?" Donovan asked, confused.
"I was just being nice," Seth said earnestly. "Courtesy between teammates. Building chemistry, right?"
"Fair enough," Donovan laughed. "You're a good dude, Seth. Go home to your family."
"Thanks for coming, see you at training camp," Donovan said.
They dapped up again, and Seth slipped out the side door. Donovan shook his head. Family man. He respected it, but he couldn't relate.
He walked into the kitchen to grab a refill. Leaning against the marble island, looking bored, was a brunette who looked incredibly familiar.
"Why is the chick from Victorious here?" Donovan muttered to himself.
She heard him. She turned around, raising an eyebrow. It was Victoria Justice.
"You know who I am?" she asked, surprised.
"Yeah," Donovan said, leaning against the fridge. "I watched a few episodes when it came out. My little cousin forced me."
"Why would you watch a kids' show?" she teased.
"People get bored, no?" Donovan smirked. "Plus, the songs were catchy."
Victoria shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "Fair."
"What you doing here?" Donovan asked.
"Well, I heard there was a party," she said, looking around at the madness spilling into the hallway.
"Yeah, it's kind of spiralled," Donovan admitted.
"Well, yeah. I wasn't going to say it," she laughed. "It's a bit much."
"So, you come here with someone?" Donovan asked, stepping closer.
"Not really," she said, running a hand through her hair. "This whole thing kind of blew up on social media as I was around, so I thought why not. I like free drinks."
"I know, I'm having to have security check people. There's already been crashers claiming they're my long-lost brothers," Donovan sighed.
Victoria looked him up and down. "You want to sneak away? Get away from the noise?"
"Fine by me," Donovan said instantly. "I got a new bed. I need to break it in."
"Okay," she said, her eyes darkening slightly.
They slipped out of the kitchen, navigating through the crowd until they reached the heavy oak door of the master suite. Donovan unlocked it and ushered her inside, locking the noise out.
The bedroom was massive, a sanctuary of minimalism. The centerpiece was a bed that looked large enough to land a helicopter on.
Big Dog, who had been hiding under a chair, scampered out, his claws clicking on the hardwood. He ran straight to Donovan's feet, yapping happily.
"Big Dog, I haven't seen you all night," Donovan cooed, bending down to pick up the Corgi.
"You call your dog Big Dog?" Victoria laughed.
"I like the name," Donovan defended himself. "It's aspirational."
"Let me put him in the bathroom," Donovan said. "He likes the heated floors."
He placed the Corgi in the adjoining bathroom, giving him a treat before closing the door.
He turned back to Victoria, who was inspecting the bed.
"That bed is huge," she commented, pressing her hand into the mattress.
"It's a specially designed orthopedic bed for recovery," Donovan explained. "Temperature controlled. Memory foam. The works."
"How much did you spend on this thing?"
"It was a gift," Donovan lied smoothly. "People give me things, it's kind of nice."
"So we doing this?" she murmured, her voice low, shifting closer until her thigh brushed his.
Donovan didn't answer with words. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that started firm—lips pressing, testing.
Victoria responded eagerly, her hand sliding to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair as she parted her lips.
Their tongues met, tentative at first, then bolder, swirling in a slow dance that built heat between them.
She tasted like the sweet cocktails from the party, fruity and warm, her breath hitching as he deepened it, sucking gently on her lower lip.
The kiss lingered, his mouth exploring hers with measured presses, her lips soft and yielding under his.
She swung a leg over, climbing onto his lap in one fluid motion, straddling him as the kiss grew hungrier.
Her weight settled against his thighs, the thin fabric of her dress riding up, exposing smooth skin.
Donovan's hands found her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the press of her breasts against his chest through the barriers of clothing.
She rocked forward experimentally, grinding her core against the growing bulge in his pants, a soft moan escaping into his mouth.
The friction was immediate, her hips circling lazily, the heat of her pussy seeping through her panties to tease his hardening cock.
He gripped her ass cheeks then, fingers digging into the firm flesh, kneading as she moved. The dry humping started subtle—her hips rolling in slow, deliberate figure-eights, the seam of her underwear catching along his zipper, building pressure on his shaft.
Victoria broke the kiss to nip at his jaw, her breaths coming faster, hands roaming his shoulders, pushing the shirt off one arm. 'Mmm, yeah,' she whispered, grinding harder, her pussy lips parting slightly under the lace, the warmth intensifying the rub against him.
Donovan thrust up to meet her, his grip tightening, spreading her cheeks wider to feel the full curve of her ass in his palms, the muscle flexing with each roll.
But even as arousal stirred low in his gut, his mind wandered—it felt slow, deliberate, like a well-rehearsed routine. Compared to that night with Margot, this lacked the raw frenzy from the jump.
With Margot, the make-out had exploded into chaos: her stumbling onto his lap in the hotel suite, drunk and giggling, her ass slamming down hard, humping with wild, uncoordinated bucks that had his cock throbbing instantly.
No buildup—just desperate grabs, her cheeks overflowing his hands as he squeezed, slapped, the dry friction turning sloppy fast with her wetness soaking through everything.
Margot's kisses had been open-mouthed and messy, tongues clashing sloppily, saliva trailing down chins as she ground frantically, her breaths ragged and boozy.
Here, Victoria's movements were smooth, her moans breathy and controlled, the pace dragging like foreplay in a polished scene.
It was hot, no doubt—her ass filling his palms so perfectly, the way she arched into his touch, circling her hips to drag her clit along his bulge—but it simmered without boiling, missing that electric, heart-pounding urgency where Margot had clawed his back, humping like the world was ending, her body demanding more in sloppy, urgent waves.
She kissed him again, tongue delving deeper, her hips rolling in a steady rhythm now, the friction making his balls tighten with each pass. Donovan squeezed her ass harder, pulling her down onto him with each upward buck, the dry heat building a steady ache.
Victoria's nails scraped his scalp lightly, her body undulating, breasts heaving as she picked up a fraction more speed, her core sliding along his full length through the fabric. He trailed kisses down her neck, sucking at the pulse point, tasting the faint salt of her skin mixed with perfume.
She ground forward sharply, a gasp breaking the kiss, her thighs clamping his hips tighter, the pressure on his cockhead exquisite but measured.
The slowness nagged at him deeper now—he felt a twinge of guilt creeping in, like he wasn't matching her energy fully, his thrusts up lazier than they could be. With Margot, he'd given everything, heart racing, body on fire, no holding back because it felt right, electric.
Here, his heart just wasn't in it the same way; he couldn't force that all-in intensity, even as Victoria deserved it. She rocked side to side, her pussy's outline pressing firmly, the heat radiating, but the spark fizzled short of ignition.
Donovan's fingers kneaded deeper, trying to amp it, but the comparison soured it—Margot's humps had escalated to frantic bucks, dress hiked, panties shoved aside for direct rub, her ass cheeks reddening from his grips, the mess of it all pulling him under completely.
Victoria leaned back slightly, hands on his knees for leverage, grinding in wider circles, her dress bunching higher, exposing the lace clinging to her. The motion dragged her folds along him repeatedly, her breaths quickening into soft pants, one hand slipping between them to press her clit through the fabric.
Donovan watched, arousal spiking, but the guilt hit harder—he wasn't devouring her like he could, his kisses on her collarbone lazy licks instead of bites. He wanted to lose himself, but the void from Margot's night lingered, making this feel like going through motions.
She moaned louder, humping with more insistence, her ass bouncing in his hands, the friction now enough to make pre-cum leak into his boxers, staining the front.
He pulled her closer, recapturing her mouth, tongues tangling as she humped faster, the bed shifting under them. Her body heat enveloped him, the dry fuck teasing edges of release, but it built slow, no crash.
Margot's had peaked in minutes—her grinding turning to desperate slides, body trembling before they'd even stripped, the high mutual and consuming. Donovan felt bad, really bad, for half-assing this; Victoria was into it, responsive, but he couldn't summon that fire, his heart detached, comparisons chaining him back to that wild night.
It felt... slow. With Margot, there had been an urgency, a chaotic energy that felt like a fast break. This felt like a half-court set. Deliberate. Calculated.
Just as things were escalating, the door handle rattled violently. "Motherfucker, we're in here!" Donovan shouted at the door.
The rattling stopped. "My bad!"
Donovan sighed, pulling away from Victoria. "Let me go clear them out so we don't get interrupted again. Don't want to kill the vibe."
"Okay," Victoria said, smoothing her hair. "I'll wait."
Donovan walked out of the bedroom like a storm. He found the DJ and cut the music.
"Party's over!" Donovan bellowed. "Everybody out! You don't got to go home, but you can't stay here!"
He spent the next twenty minutes herding cats, watching the crowd disperse into the elevators.
Once the apartment was silent, he went to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of Dom Pérignon and two glasses. He placed them in an ice bucket.
He paused as he realized what he was doing. He was trying to recreate the messiness.
He and Margot hadn't drunk champagne.
They had drunk cheap tequila and whatever that pepper thing was.
He pushed the door open with his shoulder.
Victoria was already on the bed, spread out like an invitation—dress hiked to her waist, legs parted wide, one hand trailing her inner thigh, fingers brushing the edge of her lace panties, eyes dark with want.
Her pussy lips outlined faintly through the fabric, a damp spot growing.
"What took you so long?" she teased, propping on elbows, her chest rising with each breath.
"I thought you would want a drink," Donovan said, setting the bucket on the nightstand, the condensation dripping onto the wood.
"I'm drunk enough. I'm ready when you are."
"Good, because this bit is always boring," he muttered, before he downed the bottle and joined her.
He stripped off his shirt, muscles flexing under the low light, his cock tenting his pants obviously.
He crawled over her, capturing her mouth in a heated kiss, but the foreplay evaporated fast—no lingering now. Donovan tugged her dress up and off in one yank, exposing her bare skin—no bra, just those lace panties that he hooked fingers into, ripping them down her legs roughly.
She kicked them free, spreading her thighs wide, pussy bare and glistening, folds pink and slick, clit peeking swollen. He shed his pants and boxers, cock springing free—thick, veined, head flared and leaking pre-cum as Donovan placed the condom on.
Donovan positioned at her entrance, rubbing the head along her slit, coating himself in her wetness, the lips parting easily. He nudged in slow, the stretch drawing a gasp from her, her walls hot and tight, yielding inch by inch around his girth.
'Fuck, you're so thick,' Victoria breathed, legs wrapping his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper. He sank fully, balls slapping her ass lightly, her pussy clenching instinctively around the base, a velvet vise that fluttered with her quick breaths.
Donovan groaned, holding still to savor the grip, the way her inner muscles massaged him, before pulling back—her lips clinging to his shaft, shiny with arousal—then thrusting home again, deep and claiming, the impact jolting her breasts.
He set a rhythm, hips snapping forward in steady, powerful drives, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room immediately.
Her tits bounced with each thrust, nipples hard peaks; he leaned down, capturing one in his mouth, sucking hard while his tongue lashed the bud, teeth grazing lightly.
Victoria arched her back, moaning loud and throaty, her hips bucking up to meet him, the angle grinding her clit against his pubic bone with every hilt. 'Harder—yes, fuck me like that,' she urged, hands fisting his hair, pulling him closer to her chest as he switched nipples, biting down just enough to make her yelp.
But as he fucked into her, the comparisons flooded his mind unbidden, souring the pleasure.
With Margot, that first penetration had been a drunken plunge—no teasing rub, just her guiding him in sloppily, her pussy flooding hot and immediate, gripping like it was starved for him, the stretch making her cry out and claw his shoulders raw.
Every thrust had been met with her wild bucks, uncoordinated but fierce, the bed slamming the wall, her walls spasming erratically from the booze and exhaustion, amplifying every slide into mind-numbing bliss.
Here, Victoria's tightness was inviting, her clenches responsive and rhythmic, building heat steadily, but it felt scripted—her moans syncing perfectly with his pace, body moving like she knew exactly how to heighten it.
The high wasn't cresting the way it had with Margot; it bubbled but didn't erupt, leaving him thrusting with half his fire, guilt twisting in his chest.
He felt bad—Victoria was gorgeous, eager, her pussy taking him so well, walls rippling around his cock—but he couldn't pour everything in, his heart detached, stuck replaying Margot's frenzy where he'd lost himself completely, no reservations.
Donovan shifted gears, hooking her legs over his shoulders, folding her body nearly in half for deeper access.
The new angle let him plunge straight to her core, tip kissing her cervix with each brutal thrust, her pussy stretching wider around him, lips puffing and gripping visibly.
He pounded relentlessly, sweat slicking his back, one hand bracing the headboard with a creak, the other sliding down to rub her clit in firm, circling strokes—thumb pressing the swollen nub, fingers slick with her juices.
Victoria's cries escalated, body trembling under him, walls beginning to pulse tighter. 'Oh god, right there—I'm close,' she panted, her experience shining through as she tilted her hips, chasing the friction on her g-spot.
He dragged it out deliberately, slowing to shallow, teasing thrusts that barely breached her entrance, stirring her lips without filling, then slamming deep to grind against her depths, fingers varying on her clit—light flicks to build, then hard pinches to jolt.
Her breaths hitched into whimpers, thighs quivering against his shoulders, pussy clenching emptily on the shallow pulls.
Margot's first build had been explosive—no dragging, just a sudden crash mid-thrust, her body seizing, pussy gushing in hot, messy spurts around his cock, soaking his balls and thighs, her screams raw and muffled into his neck as she bit down hard.
That orgasm had pulled him to the edge instantly, the mutual high electric, her flutters demanding he match her abandon. Victoria's was drawn out, her whines climbing steadily, wetness coating him in a steady flow, not the flood that had defined Margot's raw release.
Donovan felt the guilt sharper now—thrusting deep, he wasn't savoring her like he should, his mind elsewhere, unable to force the passion because his heart clung to that other night, making this feel like a shadow.
He accelerated, cock hammering her g-spot with precision, fingers blurring fast circles on her clit, the wet schlick of his shaft in her pussy obscene. Victoria shattered then—walls convulsing in powerful waves, milking his length from base to tip as she wailed, back arching off the bed, toes curling tight against his back.
A fresh gush of her arousal slicked him further, body shuddering through the peak, inner muscles rippling in aftershocks.
Donovan rode it out, grinding deep to prolong the spasms, his cock throbbing inside the tight squeezes, but even as she came undone, the rush for him stayed muted—intense, yes, her pussy's grip heavenly, but not the all-consuming blaze with Margot, where her orgasm had ignited his own, leaving no room for detachment.
He pulled out slowly, her lips reluctant to release him, strings of her cream connecting them briefly.
Flipping her onto her stomach without pause, Donovan gripped her hips, yanking her ass up high, knees spreading wide. Her pussy glistened from behind, folds swollen and dripping, entrance winking invitingly.
He thrust back in from the rear—the angle tighter, her walls hugging every ridge and vein of his cock like a glove, the depth making her gasp into the sheets.
He fucked hard immediately, hips slapping her ass cheeks with sharp cracks, the flesh jiggling hypnotically under the impacts, reddening slightly.
One hand spanked her lightly at first, then firmer, the stings making her push back eagerly, moaning muffled cries. 'Yes—spank me, fuck my pussy harder,' she demanded, circling her hips to rub her clit on the mattress, the added friction making her walls flutter.
Deeper now, he leaned over her back, chest pressing to her spine, breath hot on her ear as he nipped the lobe. 'Take every inch—feel me stretching you,' he growled, pace turning brutal, bed frame groaning in protest.
Victoria rocked back to meet him, her ass slamming into his pelvis, the wet sounds of her pussy sucking him in echoing.
But the comparisons gnawed deeper—Margot in doggy had been pure feral energy: her smaller ass pushing back with desperate, sloppy force, quaking with each slap, pussy not just clenching but spasming wildly, the impacts like thunder in the quiet hotel, her yelps turning to sobs of pleasure.
That high had layered on, each thrust stripping away control until release felt like drowning in ecstasy. Here, it was solid, her ass soft and full in his hands, cheeks bouncing perfectly, but the peak evaded him—steady throbs of pleasure without the void-filling inferno.
Guilt surged; he spanked harder, fingers digging bruises into her hips, trying to amp his effort, but he couldn't fake the heart, the all-in drive that Margot had pulled from him effortlessly.
He varied the assault, pulling her up by the hair to arch her back sharply, thrusting upward into her at a steep angle, hitting spots that made her keen, pussy gushing more around him. His free hand reached around, pinching her nipples roughly, twisting the buds while his cock pistoned relentlessly.
She gasped, grinding back harder, walls tightening in response to the hair pull, but the build dragged for him, tension coiling slow.
Margot had reacted viscerally to every spank and tug—body tensing then melting into floods of wetness, orgasms chaining without mercy, her raw vulnerability making him give everything.
Victoria's responses were hot, vocal—'Pull harder, yes!'—but isolated, her body athletic and controlled, no desperate unraveling. Donovan felt bad, thrusting deeper, sweat dripping onto her back, but his heart wasn't racing the same; he couldn't force the frenzy, the comparisons leaving him hollow, this fuck twice now paling, the dullness settling like fog.
Shifting positions again, he rolled to his back, guiding her to straddle him reverse now—her ass facing him, pussy hovering over his slick cock. Victoria sank down eagerly, enveloping him fully in one drop, her walls stretching around the girth, a moan escaping as she bottomed out, ass cheeks spreading on his thighs.
She started bouncing, tits out of sight but ass jiggling with each rise and fall, hands on his knees for balance. Donovan thrust up hard, meeting her drops with upward snaps, the slap of her ass on his pelvis loud, her pussy creaming down his shaft visibly.
'Ride that cock—milk it,' he commanded, hands gripping her ass cheeks, spreading them to watch his length disappear into her pink hole, the rim gripping tight.
She obliged, circling her hips mid-bounce, clit grinding his balls on the downs, moans turning breathy and urgent.
But Margot cowgirling had been exhausted, chaotic bliss: her bounces sloppy from fatigue, turning to desperate grinds as she tired, pussy sloppy-wet and sliding messily, orgasms ripping through with body-shaking sobs, the high peaking multiple times, each wave higher, draining him utterly.
Here, Victoria's ride was skilled, athletic—bouncing with endurance, walls clenching on command—but it built his release steadily, no shattering edge, the guilt hitting as he realized he wasn't gripping her as fiercely, thrusts not as savage. He couldn't summon it; heart not in the chase, just going through the motions to finish.
He sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her back to his chest in a seated reverse, thrusting deep while his mouth attacked her neck, sucking marks into the skin, teeth grazing.
One hand snaked to her clit, rubbing fast, the other mauling her breast, pinching the nipple hard. Victoria clenched around him, nearing her edge again, body tensing in his hold.
'Cum on my cock—squeeze it,' he urged, hips bucking up into her, the angle grinding her g-spot relentlessly. Her second orgasm built faster this time—walls pulsing, cries peaking as she shattered, pussy flooding him in waves, milking desperately.
The tight squeezes finally tipped him over; Donovan buried deep, cock throbbing violently as he unloaded—hot, thick ropes of cum painting her insides, pulse after pulse filling her up, groaning low through the release, balls emptying fully.
But even in the throes, it paled to Margot's creampies: mutual explosions where her flutters drew every drop, the high transcendent, bodies locked in shared ecstasy.
This was just relief, a dull afterglow washing over him, the void from that night unfilled, leaving the experience flat, twice now with others, nothing touching the peak.
He eased out, cum leaking from her pussy in slow dribbles, mixing with her arousal on the sheets.
He dragged it out, purely out of professional pride, ensuring she finished. But when he finally came, it was just a physical release. A biological function completed.
He lay there afterwards, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly.
"I'm going to get you a ride home," Donovan said suddenly, breaking the silence. "I got training camp tomorrow."
Victoria blinked, looking confused. "Already? I thought your season started in October."
"New team," Donovan lied effortlessly. "Want to get us on the same page. Early bird gets the worm, you know?"
Training camp didn't start until late September.
"Oh, okay," she said, sounding slightly disappointed but accepting. "Thanks."
Donovan called the valet and arranged a car service. He watched her get dressed, feeling a strange sense of relief that she was leaving.
"Well, thanks for tonight," Victoria said at the door.
"No problem," Donovan nodded.
"I had fun," she smiled.
"So did I," Donovan lied.
"Maybe we can do this again sometime," she suggested.
"I'll text you," Donovan promised. He wouldn't.
She left, the elevator doors sliding shut. "Girl must be out of her mind," Donovan muttered to the empty hallway.
He went back into the bedroom. He stripped the sheets off the bed, balling them up and throwing them in the hamper. He put on fresh, crisp linens.
He opened the bathroom door. Big Dog trotted out, looking around suspiciously before hopping up onto the bed and curling up in the exact center.
"Girl must be tripping if she thinks she's sleeping in my bed," Donovan told the dog, stroking his fur. "You're the only one who gets that privilege."
He paused, staring at the empty space beside him.
"Well, except Margot," he whispered. "But that's different."
At least, that was what he kept trying to tell himself. But as he lay there in the dark, the King of New York felt very, very alone in his castle.