Chapter 4 Vane
VANE
Isprawl across my unmade bed, scrolling through Lia Morgan's Instagram.
The springs creak beneath me as I shift to a more comfortable position on my back, my eyes never leaving the screen.
The ceiling fan spins lazily overhead, barely moving the hot air in my cramped bedroom.
Xavier pays the rent and the place is a shithole, but it's still better than the foster homes we bounced between.
Her latest post is from three days ago—Lia in the school library, hair pulled back, those glasses she wears when she's really focusing perched on her nose. Nothing special to anyone else, but my body responds anyway. It always does when it comes to her.
I swipe through her older pictures, lingering on one from last summer. Lia is in a bikini at the lake, her skin golden in the sunlight. My hand slides beneath the waistband of my sweatpants, wrapping around my already hard cock.
“Fucking perfect,” I mutter, stroking myself as I zoom in on her smile, her curves. The way she looks at the camera is like she's daring me to want her.
And I do want her. Since freshman year, when she demolished me in debate club, her eyes flashing with triumph. Smart girls always done it for me, but Lia—she's something else entirely.
I open our text thread. Empty except for that message I sent after school. She hasn't responded yet. Typical Lia, probably overthinking every word she might say back.
My hand moves faster as I think about her face when I cornered her today, that flush spreading across her cheeks. How her breath caught when I stepped closer. She wants me too, even if she won't admit it.
I type one-handed, my thumb sliding across the screen:
Got you speechless, Morgan? Bet I could make you lose your words completely with my tongue between your thighs.
I hit send before I can think twice, a groan escaping my lips as the message delivers. The thought of her reading it, maybe tonight in her bed, maybe getting wet thinking about me—it pushes me closer to the edge.
My heart slams against my ribs when I see the double checkmarks appear. Read receipt. She's reading it right now.
“Fuck,” I groan, picturing Lia's face as my crude message hits her screen.
So hard for you right now. Been thinking about you all day. Wanna see what you do to me?
The message shows as read immediately. She's right there, watching the conversation unfold in real time. My body thrums with anticipation, waiting for those three dots to appear, for her to type something back—anything. But a minute passes. Then another.
The silence only makes me harder. I can picture her perfectly—flustered, maybe biting that full bottom lip of hers, not knowing how to respond but unable to look away.
She hasn't told me no. And Lia Morgan always says exactly what she thinks.
“That's what I thought,” I mutter, angling my phone above my sweatpants. I push them down, gripping myself at the base, making sure to catch the head where I'm already leaking. The camera flash briefly brightens my darkened room.
I check the photo—explicit enough to make her squirm, clear enough that there's no mistaking how big I am. Perfect.
I hit send without hesitation, watching as the image uploads, delivers, and then—those two blue checkmarks again.
She's seen it. No going back now.
My phone vibrates in my hand, screen lighting up with her reply.
What the hell, Vane?
I grin, running my thumb over her words. Not outraged enough to ignore me. Not telling me to fuck off. Just those four words—enough to tell me she's flustered but not enough to make me stop.
Without hesitation, I hit the video call button. My heart pounds as it rings, one, two, three times. She's going to decline. She has to. But then—
The call connects.
Lia's face fills my screen, her cheeks flushed pink, pupils blown wide. She's lying back against her pillows, hair spread around her like a dark halo. Fuck, she looks beautiful.
“Are you out of your mind?” She hisses, voice low. “I could screenshot this conversation and report you.”
I laugh, the sound deep in my chest as I angle the camera to show my face while keeping my hand moving slowly over my cock, out of frame.
“But you won't,” I say, watching her eyes dart down to where my arm is moving. “And you wouldn't have answered if you weren't at least a little turned on. Who picks up a video call from the guy who just sent them a dick pic while he's still stroking his cock and thinking about eating her pussy?”
Lia sucks in a sharp breath, her lips parting. She doesn't respond, doesn't hang up. Just watches me with those wide amber eyes.
“Want to see what you do to me, Lia? Want to watch me jerk off for you?”
She still doesn't speak, but after a moment of hesitation, she gives a barely detectable nod.
“Good girl,” I murmur, lowering the camera.
The moan that escapes her lips at those two words sends electricity straight through me.
I reach over to my nightstand, grabbing the phone stand I use for watching videos. Setting it up at the foot of my bed, I position my phone perfectly to capture my full body stretched out on the mattress.
“Much better,” I say, settling back. “Now I can use both hands.”
I stroke myself slowly, watching Lia's face on the screen. Her eyes follow the movement of my hand, her breath coming quicker now.
“Touch yourself for me, baby,” I say. “You don't have to show me, but I want to know you're rubbing that pretty virgin cunt while you watch me.”
Her eyes snap up to meet mine, narrowing. “How do you know I'm a virgin?”
I laugh, never breaking rhythm. “Come on. It's common knowledge. The perfect Lia Morgan, too busy with debate team and AP classes to let some fumbling high school boy between her thighs.”
She narrows her eyes further, opening her mouth to argue, but just then, I twist my wrist, and the shot of pleasure is intense. A moan tears from my throat, deep and unrestrained, as pre-cum beads at the tip of my cock.
Lia's words die on her lips. Her focus immediately drops back to my dick, her pupils dilating as she watches the wetness gleam in the dim light of my bedroom.
“Fuck, Lia,” I groan. “You have no idea how many times I've jerked off thinking about you. In class, watching you bite that pencil when you're concentrating. In the lab, when you bend over the table and I can see down your shirt.”
Her breathing quickens, her cheeks flushing deeper.
“So fucking hot,” I continue, working myself faster now. “Those lips. That ass. The way you look at me when you're pissed off—makes me want to bend you over the nearest desk and fuck that attitude right out of you.”
She shifts on her bed, and I know she's pressing her thighs together, fighting the ache building between them.
“Are you touching yourself yet?” I ask. “I bet you're so wet for me.”
Silence fills the air, broken only by our heavy breathing.
“Are you?” I press when she doesn't answer right away. “Tell me the truth, Lia.”
She bites her lower lip, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “Yes,” she whispers, and then lets out a soft moan that makes my cock throb painfully in my hand.
Fuck.
I hadn't expected her to admit it so easily. The perfect Lia Morgan, touching herself while watching me jerk off. The power of it surges through me.
“How wet are you?” I ask, my voice rough with need. “Tell me.”
She shifts on her bed, her free hand moving out of frame. “Very,” she admits, her voice barely audible. “Very wet.”
My rhythm falters as a wave of lust washes over me. I slow my strokes, not wanting to come too soon.
“Shove your fingers inside that pretty pussy,” I command, watching her face carefully for any sign of resistance. “Then hold them up to the camera. I want to see how wet you are for me.”
There's a moment where I think she might tell me to go fuck myself—that flash of defiance I've come to expect from her—but then her eyes darken. She shifts, her arm moving with purpose, and a small gasp escapes her lips.
When she raises her hand to the camera, two fingers glistening in the light from her bedside lamp, I nearly lose it right there. Her arousal coats her fingers, dripping slightly down toward her palm. My cock jerks in my hand at the sight.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I growl, squeezing myself hard to keep from coming. “Now be a good girl and suck them clean for me.”
Her eyes flash—there's that defiance—but then she brings her fingers to her mouth. Her lips part, wrapping around her slick digits, and she moans as she tastes herself. Her eyes never leave mine as she slowly pulls them out, clean now.
“That's it,” I praise. “Now rub that pretty clit for me. Imagine it's my tongue instead of your fingers. Think about how good I'll make you feel, licking you until you come all over my face.”
Lia moans again, the sound like music to my ears. Her breathing gets labored, chest rising and falling rapidly, telling me she's close. The way her eyes keep fluttering closed, the way her lips part with each breath is warning enough.
“That's it,” I encourage. “Show me how good it feels. Imagine my cock inside you instead of your fingers. Stretching you out, filling you up completely.”
Her head falls back against her pillows, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat. I want to mark it, claim it, leave bruises that everyone would see tomorrow.
“Bet you're so fucking tight,” I continue, working my hand faster now. “Virgin pussy clenching around me while I fuck you for the first time. Would you like that, Lia? Want me to be your first?”
A whimper escapes her, followed by a strangled “Yes,” that makes my balls tighten.
“Come for me,” I command. “Now, Lia. Let me see you fall apart.”
As if my words have physical power over her, Lia cries out, her back arching off the bed.
She's fucking beautiful like this—all that control she normally wears like armor shattered.
Her face transforms with pleasure, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed a deep rose.
Those amber eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, are hazy with ecstasy.
Even through the phone screen, she's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen.
I'm right on the edge myself, pressure building at the base of my spine, but I force myself to hold back.
“Open your eyes,” I growl. “Look at me. I want you to watch me come for you.”
Her eyes snap open, fixing on my cock with an intensity that nearly undoes me.
“Don't look away,” I warn, stroking faster. “This is all for you, Lia. Every fucking drop.”
My orgasm tears through me like lightning, and I groan her name as thick ropes of cum spurt onto my bare abs. I don't break eye contact, wanting to see every reaction cross her face as she watches me mark myself with thoughts of her.
I watch her face as I come down from my high, chest heaving, sweat beading on my forehead. The aftershocks of pleasure ripple through me as I run my fingers through the mess on my stomach, holding them up to the camera.
“Wish you were here to lick it all up like a good girl,” I say. “Bet that pretty mouth would feel amazing wrapped around my cock.”
The words hang between us for a moment. Then I watch the transformation happen on her face—the desire in her eyes clouding over, her lips pressing into a tight line. The flush on her cheeks deepens, but not from arousal this time. Shame washes over her features as reality crashes back in.
Without a word, her screen goes black. Call ended.
“Shit,” I mutter, reaching for a T-shirt to clean myself up. I'm not surprised she bailed, but the abruptness still stings.
I toss the shirt toward my overflowing hamper and grab my phone, typing out a message before she can pretend this never happened.
Nice try. No hiding now. We're going to prom in two weeks, and after, I'm making good on my promise to taste that sweet pussy of yours. Maybe I'll bend you over in the back of my car with your dress pushed up around your waist and give you my cock, too.
I hit send and watch as the message is delivered. The read receipt appears almost immediately. She's staring at her phone, probably freaking out about what just happened between us.
I wait for those three dots to appear, for her to tell me to go fuck myself or threaten to block my number. But nothing comes. The screen remains unchanged—my message sitting there, read but unanswered.
I grin to myself, dropping my phone on the bed beside me. Her silence tells me everything I need to know. Lia Morgan might be having second thoughts, but she'd have shut me down immediately if she weren't interested.
Two weeks until prom. Two weeks to make sure she can't think about anything but me.