Chapter 33 #4
"Oh, princess," she cooed, her voice dropping into a sugar-sweet register that was a thousand times more intimidating than a shout. She brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, her touch light as a feather yet heavy with intent.
"I think you should give your little friend a message," she whispered, her lips ghosting over my temple. "Tell her that if she truly wants to see what a real orgasm looks like—if she wants to understand the difference between a boy’s fumbling and a woman’s devotion—she is more than welcome to come over. I’ll even pull up my most comfortable chair in the corner of my bedroom for her. "
I gasped, my heart hammer-thudding against my ribs. The sheer, fucking brazen audacity of her suggestion made my head spin.
"She can sit right there," Carrie continued, her hand sliding down to grip my waist, pulling me flush against her.
"She can watch from the shadows as I show her exactly how inadequate her boyfriend truly is. She can witness what it looks like when someone actually knows how to take you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left of you but my name on your lips. "
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, her expression sharp and predatory. "Do you think she’d enjoy that, Alex? Seeing you reduced to a shivering, pleading mess under my touch?"
I couldn’t even find the words. I was drowning in the intensity of her gaze, my body vibrating with a mix of shame and a terrifying, skyrocketing arousal.
I was realising that Carrie wasn't just possessive; she was an exhibitionist of the most dangerous fucking kind—the kind who wanted the world to see her prize, just so they knew exactly what they’ll never be allowed to have. Jesus fuck, what had I got myself into?
"Now," she said, her tone suddenly turning back to that of the cool, detached lecturer. She reached past me and turned the handle of the door, clicking it open. "Go. You have a seminar. And try to keep your mind on your studies, darling. I’d hate for Ms. Davies to notice how... distracted you’ve become. "
I stumbled out into the hallway, my legs feeling like they belonged to someone else. My mind was spinning at a thousand miles per hour, the air in the corridor suddenly feeling way too thin.
That was not how this was supposed to go.
I had walked in there thinking I was being clever, thinking I could poke the bear and get a bit of playful, jealous back-and-forth.
I had wanted to see her eyes flash with a bit of "you’re mine" pettiness.
Instead, I felt like I had just been metaphorically taken apart in front of the entire faculty.
The sheer, brazen intensity of what she had said—the image of Mia in a chair, of Adrian's inadequacy, of me being fucking shown to them—had me reeling.
Jesus Christ, Carrie.
I leaned against a cold brick wall for a second, pressing my forehead to the surface to try and ground myself.
My heart was a frantic bird trapped in my chest. There was no way she was serious.
She was a respected academic. She was Dr. Caroline Carter.
She wouldn’t actually invite my best friend into her bedroom to watch us... would she?
But then I remembered the look in her eyes—that dark, unblinking hunger. Carrie didn't do "jokes." She did commands and she did reality.
The most terrifying part wasn't even what Carrie had suggested; it was the realisation that if she had actually sat me down that night and told me that was the plan, I didn’t think I’d have said no.
I was so fucking far under her spell, so addicted to the way she claimed me, that I had lost where my boundaries even started.
I’d probably have just nodded, said "Yes, Mommy," and let her do whatever she wanted with me.
I checked my phone. 11:35 a.m. I had ten minutes to get to the seminar, and I looked like I had just seen a ghost—or like I had been thoroughly fucked. I frantically pulled my shirt collar up as high as it would go, hiding the mark that felt like it was burning a hole through my skin.
As I had approached the seminar room, I had spotted Billie leaning against the doorframe, chatting with another student.
Her eyes had snapped to mine instantly, hunting for a crack in my composure.
She had definitely noticed the feverish flush on my neck, the slight tremor in my hands, and the way I had practically bolted past her to my desk.
Sliding into my seat, my pulse had hammered against my ribs.
I had tried to force my brain back to the lecture, but my mind had taken a dark, chaotic sharp turn.
A sudden, wicked image had flashed behind my eyes—a complete fantasy of absolute ownership: being brought to my knees right there, coming in Carrie’s mouth while Billie was forced to stand in the corner and watch, helpless and completely sidelined.
Fucking hell. I had buried my face in my hands. I had been an absolute mess.
I was staring at my phone, my thumb hovering over the silent switch, when a notification banner had appeared across the top of the screen. My heart had stopped.
Carrie: You should invite your friends over for dinner next week. Mommy has a good idea for a menu.