“Fuck I love you.” The words are barely audible.
A whisper I might have imagined except for the way his whole body goes rigid afterward, like he’s shocked himself.
Then my orgasm is crashing through me. Wave after wave as he swallows my moans again, his hand around my throat, pinning my neck against the dank concrete wall, fingers still working me through the aftershocks.
I’m still clinging when the cuffs come off my wrists. Damien returns my glasses and phone, then tugs and smooths my clothing back into place, combing his fingers through my hair until the bell for fourth period rings.
Then he pulls away sharply, putting distance between us while I stand there, stunned, still trembling.
“You might feel some kind of way after this.” His tone shifts back to casual, but there’s tension in his shoulders. “Sometimes the comedown can fuck with your head. I’ll call you tonight. Just… press pause on everything you feel until then, okay?”
He’s gone before I can respond, footsteps fading across the gravel while I lean against the mildewed wall, legs too weak to support me properly. The shed feels cavernous without him. Just me and the dripping roof and the stains on the concrete that are already soaking into the porous surface.
I rub my wrists. The thin lines scored into them by the cuffs are already fading, along with the ache in my knees from the cold ground.
A forbidden thrill runs through me as I scan the shed for any evidence we might have left behind.
There’s nothing.
I place my palm on my abdomen, pushing back against the emptiness that wants to flow.
“You’re okay.” I clench my teeth, inhaling through my nose. The same mantra he used on me behind the community hall. “You’re okay.” My voice is far stronger on the repeat.
When I’m steadier, I remove the recording device from my collar and turn it off, storing it in the zipped pocket inside my bag for later examination. Then I just stand, arms loose by my sides, staring at nothing.
Until the second bell rings, jerking me into action. I should be waiting outside class by now.
With one last glance around the shed, I shuffle under the tarpaulin, rejoining the normal world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
OPHELIA
Bryan handsme the cocoa and, even though he’s right in front of me, I barely register his presence. My mind’s still in the bike shed, concrete grit on my tongue, Damien’s whispered words echoing in my skull.
I mumble, “Thanks,” then wrap my hands around the mug, using its warmth as an anchor.
“Rough day?” Bryan settles into the desk chair, staring into his mug rather than at me. When he does raise his eyes, his gaze travels around the room, staring at my duvet, the corner above the door, my knee, then back at his drink.
“Just tired.”
I force the liquid down, grimacing at the taste. The bitterness comes and goes, but it’s probably worse tonight because my tastebuds are already overwhelmed from lunchtime’s depravity.
Bryan rubs a hand across his face, giving a tight smile. “Rain’s due tomorrow. Supposed to last till the weekend.”
I give a vague reply, and he continues filling the silence with small talk. My glasses. An upcoming movie. His new boss at work, the pushy little upstart.
The conversation is so forced my shoulders gradually stiffen, only relaxing when he stands, gently cupping my shoulder as he takes the empty mug. “Get some rest. You look exhausted.”
The door clicks shut behind him and I wait, counting footsteps until he reaches the downstairs landing.
Once I’m sure he won’t reverse direction, I change into my bedclothes and fetch the recording device from my bag. As I wait for today’s footage to load, I get under the covers. The worry of being caught—by a teacher, then by Bryan—had stopped me watching before now.
I play it back from the beginning, cupping hands over my earphones so the sound can’t leak.
The video barely catches Damien’s face before he moves out of frame, but the audio comes through clear.
My own breathing first, ragged and fast. The heavy footsteps could belong to anyone, but there’s no mistaking the deep baritone of his voice or the image of his thick fingers as he unzips.
