Chapter Six
Autumn
Shit. It stings.
The warm water of the bathtub helps ease the soreness. I added a few drops of jasmine oil and even lit a candle to make it feel romantic, as if I hadn’t just done something completely unhinged in a dark office, on a rug, with a man I barely know.
Was this how I imagined my first time?
Hell no.
Am I proud of my decision?
Absolutely.
Flynn was everything and more. Rough and primal, the kind of man who doesn’t ask, just takes, but even in that chaos, there was something oddly tender in him.
Twisted, yes. Brutal, yes, but when he kissed me afterward…
God. That kiss felt more intimate than the sex itself.
It felt like he forgot who he was for a second. Like I mattered.
My entire body’s still buzzing with adrenaline. My skin is flushed. My heart won’t slow down. I still can’t believe I did it. I finally lost my virginity, and I did it exactly how I wanted to. With a man who didn’t treat me like glass. Who didn’t coddle or patronise me.
Who didn’t even know what I was giving him. I made the choice. I kept the secret, and if that stalker really has been watching me the way I think he has?
I hope he saw everything.
I left the curtains open on purpose.
Let him see Flynn slam into me like I belonged to him. Let him see me take it. Maybe now he’ll finally get the message and crawl back into whatever hole he came from.
My phone’s been off since I left the charity event, and honestly… I’m nervous to turn it back on. What if he texted? What if there’s a message waiting? Another veiled threat? Another cryptic warning?
I slide deeper into the tub until the water closes over my head. It’s peaceful. Quiet. Hot.
Like I can pause time for just a little while before facing the fallout.
I just fucked Flynn Brady.
He caged me. Pinned me to the floor. Made me come so hard I saw white, and the shitty part is… I’d do it again. In a heartbeat, but I know men like him; he doesn’t repeat. He doesn’t do soft. He doesn’t do feelings.
He fucks hard and walks away, and in this case, I walked first. I saw the blood when I stood up, and I didn’t want him to see it. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. I knew what it was. He didn’t. That’s the power I kept.
As I rinse off, I notice the marks, faint bruises blooming on my inner thighs and hips. A little ache in the pit of my stomach where he pressed down and told me he could feel himself inside me.
Oh my God.
I step out of the tub, dry off, and climb into bed completely naked. My body feels sore; my lower belly is tender. My thighs still tremble, and all I can think about is his voice, the filth he whispered, the rules he gave, the weight of him holding me down like I was his to ruin.
Then there’s his dick.
Jesus. That thing should come with a warning label.
It was massive, thick, and heavy, way bigger than what I expected. I’m a virgin, but I’ve seen dicks. I’ve received unsolicited proof. What Flynn’s packing? That wasn’t average. That was… architectural.
I stare up at the ceiling, biting my lip, and I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.
Autumn.
The sweet, quiet girl who never took risks. Who never did anything dangerous or wild or impulsive just gave her virginity to a man she barely knows… without him even knowing.
I feel the light pushing through the blinds, warm and intrusive across my face. Turning over, I blink toward the clock.
Shit. It’s past eleven in the morning.
I sit up too fast, and the sudden motion sends a wave of dizziness through my head. A slow, dull ache throbs between my legs, dragging my thoughts straight back to last night. I press my thighs together and wince.
How the hell am I still sore? I thought it would fade after a few hours.
My phone is still lying where I left it, on top of the dresser, powered off. I grab it and switch it on.
Two missed calls and one voicemail. It’s Flynn’s number.
Viviana gave it to me the night before the shoot, just in case I needed to contact him directly. I guess she gave him mine, too. Damn it, that wasn’t in the plan.
I press play.
“Autumn, are you okay? Call me back.”
His voice is rough, urgent, almost worried.
Did he see the blood?
Does he know?
I chew the inside of my cheek, heart suddenly hammering. I did bleed more than I expected, but I got up fast. Was it on him?
Oh my God. Did I leave blood on his dick?
A hot rush of embarrassment crawls up my spine. I groan, dragging a hand down my face. Last night, I was too full of rage and adrenaline to think. The stalker showing up again had me spinning, so pissed off that everything felt easy. Obvious.
Now?
Now reality is creeping back in like a hangover.
I don’t regret it, not even close, but it’s Flynn Brady.
He’s Viviana’s friend. Declan Callaghan’s best friend. The kind of man who’s hard to avoid.
On the other hand, from everything I’ve gathered about Flynn, he’s the type to sleep and bail. I’m betting he’ll just pretend it never happened. And if he did see the blood… I’ll pretend something else happened. My period came early. Whatever.
My phone rings, slicing through the silence. I jump like it’s a bomb about to go off.
Stalker or Flynn?
I glance at the screen. Relief loosens my chest.
“Hey, Vi,” I answer quickly.
“Hey! How was the charity thing yesterday?” she asks, her voice casual.
I listen closely for any shift, any tell, anything in her tone that suggests she knows about Flynn. Knows what I did.
“It was good. The pictures came out great, and the food was amazing,” I say. My voice wavers just a little, but I don’t think she notices.
“That’s great! Are you coming over so we can go over the pics from the club? I want to have them ready for next week.”
She sounds normal. Friendly. Kind. No edge.
“Of course. I can be there after lunch.”
She confirms and hangs up.
I don’t think Flynn will be there. It’s Saturday. He usually doesn’t show up on weekends.
A knock at the door makes me jump again, sharp and sudden.
Jesus Christ. I need to calm down, or I’m going to give myself a heart attack.
I move toward the door and open it.
“Miss Autumn Glass?” the delivery man asks, eyes fixed on the package in his hands.
“Yes,” I answer, taking the small box and shutting the door behind me.
No return address. No sender.
Just a plain box.
My stomach tightens.
I open it slowly, and inside is a single Polaroid.
A photo of me, standing beside my car last night.
My hair is a mess, and my dress is rumpled at the bottom, where Flynn pushed it up in the hallway.
He was there, my stalker, and he saw it.
I turn the photo over, and scrawled on the back in shaky black ink is a single line:
“You fucked him.”
Beneath it, a red smear—I squint closer—is that… blood?
My fingers go cold and a jolt of nausea twists in my gut, and I drop the photo. My stomach lurches.
Sick bastard.
I gag, hand over my mouth, the burn of bile pushing up my throat. I brace myself against the counter and breathe through it.
No.
He’s not going to scare me.
I pick up the photo with shaking hands, carry it to the kitchen, toss it into a pan.
I pour in alcohol, light a match, and drop it in; the flame catches fast, it curls and cracks and turns to ash.
The burn smell almost feels calming, these last years of moving around trying to avoid whoever has destroyed my life.
Can’t keep a job, friends, and especially a relationship.
I keep renting houses in someone else’s name. Family, people who tried to help. I don’t have the means to get a new name and papers. It’s not as easy as it seems in movies.
So I wash up, make a sandwich, and head out the door, living my life.
I drive to Viviana’s mansion. I could tell her to meet me at my apartment and avoid the risk of bumping into Flynn, but my place is small; my little desk barely fits my own computer, let alone hers. She has an amazing office and even added a desk for me.
Also, I feel safe there. Declan Callaghan has security guards all around the property, and he or one of his brothers is always there.
The music plays low. Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine starts, and I turn up the volume. Raindrops tap gently on the windshield. The sky is gray, the trees are blooming this gorgeous deep green. It’s perfect.
I sing the chorus like the world just disappeared, and it’s only me and the road.
The gates open. I nod, as always, and park near the front entrance. The mansion is huge, with a gothic look that I love.
As I walk up, the front door opens, and Declan steps out in a fitted black suit, a black helmet in his hand.
“Autumn,” he says gently, and I smile.
“Not the best weather to ride a bike.”
He chuckles and leans in to kiss my cheek. They all do it, Declan, Kian, and Viviana. Flynn never did, and I just realised that now. He never really touched me until last night.
“Just parking it,” he says, and I glance back at him.
“Oh, right.” I laugh too nervously, and I can see it in his eyes, the way his eyebrow lifts.
“Is everything alright?” His eyes are like daggers, sharp and searching. I can feel my cheeks burning.
“Yes, of course—I—Viviana.” I start walking fast. He doesn’t say anything else as I step over the threshold.
I really need to stop thinking about last night, especially around Viviana. That woman can read me like an open book.
“Hey, girl!” Viviana chirps.
We hug and head to her office.
“These look amazing, Autumn.” She goes through them for the fourth time, each round adding more pictures to the selection for the new website.
Flynn’s club is gorgeous; it has that sexy, rich vibe with an industrial flair that makes the photos look different, powerful. Just like him—
“Did something happen?” she asks, and I realise I’m staring.
“No, just a little tired from the charity event last night.” I walk to her mini fridge and grab a bottle of water.
“Hmm.” She turns her chair to face me, crossing her arms. “Spill it, Miss Autumn. What the fuck is going on?”