Chapter 12 #2
She screams. "What the fuck! Oh, my fucking god, are you serious right now? You broke in—you're jerking off? What the actual fuck, Caleb! I told you to leave me the fuck alone!"
I stay absolutely still.
Except for my hand. It pumps harder. Faster. My grip tightens, and I don't look away from her face—not for a second. I want her to see me. I want her to know exactly what she does to me, what she's always done to me.
"Well?" She yells, voice cracking with fury and something else—something that sounds like panic. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I'm here for you, Scarletta." My voice comes out low, steady, like I'm explaining something simple to a child. "Why else would I be here?"
"You need to leave. Right now!" She points to the door with one shaking hand while the other clutches her towel like it's armor. "Now!"
"You fucked him, didn't you?"
"What?" Her face flushes—and I'm not talking about the lingering heat from the shower. I'm talking bright, burning red. Guilt, and indignation, and something else all tangled together.
"You fucked him."
"My sex life is none of your business!"
"Did he spread you out on his desk? Did you let him slide his cock into your pussy while you moaned like a good girl?" I keep stroking, grip tightening as I watch her face change. "Did he make you come, baby? Did he pump you full while you told him how good it felt?"
"Stop it."
"I bet he was vanilla as fuck. Missionary position. Maybe he flipped you over if he was feeling adventurous." My thumb swipes over the head of my cock, spreading pre-come. "Probably came in three minutes and told you how sexy you are."
Her jaw clenches. "You don't know anything."
"I know you." I lean forward slightly, still working my shaft. "I know what makes your pussy wet. I know what makes you scream. And I know Ryan Adamson didn't give you what you actually need."
"Get out of my apartment."
"Not until you tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Did he fuck your throat? Did he make you gag on his cock until tears ran down your face?" My voice drops lower, rougher. "Did he tie you down and edge you until you begged? Or did he just stick his dick in and pump away like every other boring fuck you've had?"
"You want to know?" Scarletta's voice cuts through the space between us. Sharp. Clear. Not trembling anymore.
I stop stroking. My hand freezes mid-shaft, fingers tight around my cock as I look at her. Really look at her.
She's standing straighter now. Chin lifted. The towel clutched in one hand but her posture isn't defensive anymore—it's defiant.
"You want to know what Ryan did to me?" She takes a step closer. "Fine. I'll tell you."
My pulse spikes. Every muscle in my body goes rigid.
"He made me come," she says, voice steady, "just by putting his finger in my mouth."
My cock twitches in my grip.
"He told me he wanted to film me. I told him I'd done paid sexual work before.
That I wasn't interested in his bullshit pitch.
I didn't need money to fuck him. I fuck whoever I want, whenever I want.
" Another step. She's close enough now I can smell her shampoo—vanilla and something floral. "He asked if I like to submit."
My breathing quickens. I start stroking again. Slow. Controlled.
"I told him I only submit to professionals. And you know what he did?" Her eyes lock onto mine. "He pushed his finger into my mouth. Just shoved it in like I was a whore. And I came. Right there. Fully clothed. Just from his finger."
My hand moves faster.
"He laughed at me. Called me a whore. Asked if he could check my pussy to see if I was telling the truth." She watches my hand pumping my shaft. "I said yes."
"Fuck," I moan...
"He touched me and I came again. On his fingers. Instantly." Her voice drops lower, quieter. Deadly. "He has a table too, Caleb. With stirrups. He locked my ankles in and ripped my clothes off—didn't even bother undressing me properly. Just tore through my leggings like they were tissue paper."
I'm jerking myself hard now, breath coming harsh through my teeth.
"He spread me wide open. Bound. Helpless. Exactly the way I like it." She tilts her head. "And then he fucked me so hard I felt it for hours afterward."
My orgasm builds—pressure coiling tight at the base of my spine, balls drawing up.
"He came all over me. Marked me. Told me to come back tomorrow morning at five AM for round two."
I come.
Hard.
Violently.
My hand works frantically as I spurt across my stomach, my chest, hot ropes of come painting my skin while I stare at her face and hate everything about this moment.
Hate that she's watching. Hate that she told me. Hate Ryan. Hate myself.
Hate that I can't stop.
Love that it's her that makes me so sick.
The release doesn't help. Instantly, I'm hard again.
Scarletta notices. Her eyes go wide before she can stop them. Then she looks at me. "You're pathological."
"Absolutely," I moan. Stroking again. Ready to come a third time.
"You're a walking nightmare."
"Yes. A certifiable fucking monster. What's your point."
The incredulous look on her face makes me smile. Then it's my turn.
"You want to know your taste in men, baby?" I keep stroking, slow and deliberate. "Let me tell you. Your taste in men is me."
She opens her mouth to protest.
"You begged me to fuck your throat in that cabin. Begged me to make you gag on my cock until you couldn't breathe. You came so hard you blacked out—multiple times—and every time you woke up, you wanted more."
"I don't remember that," she says, but her voice wavers.
"I know you don't. Subspace psychosis, remember?
But I recorded everything." My hand moves faster.
"You on your knees, choking on my dick, tears streaming down your face while you moaned around my shaft.
You bent over the table, spread wide, begging me to fuck your ass.
You strapped to the cross, screaming for me to hurt you harder. "
"Stop—"
"You came seventeen times in four hours. I counted. You passed out twice from the intensity and woke up begging for my cock inside you again." I'm jerking myself hard now, watching her face flush. "You told me you needed it. Needed me to use you like the desperate little slut you are."
"You're disgusting," she spits.
"Says the woman who just fucked her gym trainer with her legs in stirrups."
"At least I can get off without jerking myself like a lonely fucking teenager!"
I grin. Stop stroking just long enough to spread my arms wide—cock standing hard and obscene between my thighs. "I've got more come inside me for you, Scarletta. All you have to do is sit on my lap."
She stops breathing.
Complete stillness. Her chest freezes mid-inhale.
I've won.
"Come here, baby," I say softly, switching tactics. Sweet now. Coaxing. "Let me make you feel good. You know Ryan didn't get you there—not really. Not the way you need."
Her eyes flick to my cock. Back to my face.
"Just walk over here. Drop that towel. Straddle my lap and sink down on my dick.
" My voice drops lower, intimate. "I'll fill you up so perfectly.
Stretch that sweet little pussy the way it's meant to be stretched.
You can ride me as slow as you want. Or I'll grab your hips and fuck up into you until you scream. "
Her breathing starts again—shallow, rapid.
"I'll rub your clit while you're impaled on me. Make you come so hard you forget Ryan's name. Forget your own name. Just be my good little slut taking exactly what she needs."
Her knuckles go white around the towel.
"All you have to do," I whisper, "is sit. On. My. Lap."
She wants to. Her pussy is probably throbbing so hard, she can't stand it. But she's not going to admit it.
So I'm going to make her admit it.
"You want me, baby," I say softly. "I can see it. Your body knows exactly what it needs."
I stop stroking. Let my hand fall away from my cock, which stands thick and hard between my thighs.
"Come here." My voice drops lower. Gentle now. Coaxing. "Just walk over here. You don't have to do anything you don't want. I promise."
She doesn't move, but she doesn't tell me to fuck off either.
Progress.
"I'll be so careful with you," I continue, keeping my tone soft. Sweet. "I'll kiss your mouth. Touch you gently. Make it good for you." I pause, watching her face. "If that's what you want."
Her nose wrinkles slightly. Just a fraction.
There it is.
"But that's not what you want, is it?" I lean into the chair, spreading my thighs wider. "You don't want gentle. You don't want careful. You want it hard, and rough, and dirty. You want to be used like the good little slut you are."
Her breathing hitches.
I stretch out my hand. Palm up. Beckoning.
"Come here, Scarletta."
She stares at my hand like it's a trap.
It is a trap.
"One last time," I say quietly. "Fuck me one last time, and I'll leave. I'll walk out that door and never come back. You can have Ryan, and his vanilla missionary position, and his boring three-minute fucks for the rest of your life."
Her eyes narrow. "You're lying."
"Of course, I'm lying." I keep my hand extended, looking her in the eyes.
"I want you. You tick all the boxes, Scarletta.
You're my destiny. But I'm not going to force you.
Not right now, not ever. But… I'm fixated, you see.
Obsessed. And after what you just told me about Ryan, I'll never get over it.
If it's true, I'll obsess. Forever. Was it true?
What Ryan did? Because if so… don't I deserve a chance? "
"A chance to what?" she snarls.
"To change your mind. To show you how I'm better. How we are better."
"Why would I do that? It'll just make you stay."