"Stop it."
"I bet he was vanilla as fuck. Missionary position. Maybe he flipped you over if he was feelingadventurous." 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 IknowRyan Adamson didn't give you what you actually need."
"Get out of my apartment."
"Not until you tell me."
"Tell youwhat?"
"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'sdefiant.
"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.
