Chapter 10

The day came, and with it—the shame.

A heavy, suffocating weight that settled in her chest, pressing down with the full force of reality.

What had she done?

She had lost herself.

Again and again. Over and over.

She had let him take her.

She had given in completely.

And now, as the morning light crept through the curtains, she lay beside him, naked, sore, utterly wrecked.

And worst of all—she couldn't move.

Her body refused to listen.

It was weak, useless, a shaking mess of oversensitivity and exhaustion, her legs still trembling from the night before.

So she lay there, frozen in place, drowning in her own shame, her face burning, her stomach twisting into knots.

This was bad.

This was so, so bad.

Then—

A low chuckle.

Deep. Amused.

The sound rippled through the quiet room, vibrating against her skin like a tease, like a taunt.

Her stomach dropped.

Then—laughter.

Real, actual laughter.

She snapped her head toward him, mortification twisting her insides as she saw him—completely awake, chest shaking with barely contained amusement, his face buried in his hand like he had just witnessed the funniest thing in the world.

Oh, God.

This was so much worse.

He wasn't just calm.

He wasn't just satisfied.

He was laughing.

At her.

At what she had done.

At how utterly ruined she was.

And then—he spoke.

In that low, knowing voice, still thick with amusement.

"I know what you do to me during the massages."

Her heart stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat, her entire body locking up, a cold wave of absolute horror crashing down over her.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Her worst nightmare had just come true.

She stared at him, eyes wide, lips parting to speak—to deny, to defend, to say anything—but nothing came out.

Because he knew.

He had known all along.

And now, he was letting her drown in that truth.

She couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

Couldn't do anything but stare at him, heart hammering so hard it hurt.

He knew.

He had always known.

Her shame was unbearable, twisting in her stomach, clawing at her throat, but before she could even think of a defense, of a lie, of anything to save herself—

He spoke.

"It was hot."

Her lungs stopped working.

Her breath came out in a shaky gasp, her face burning, but he wasn't done.

His green eyes were dark, sharp, burning with something that made her stomach flip violently.

"Every single night, I laid there. Letting you use me. Letting you touch me. Letting you grind on me while pretending you weren't."

Her entire body locked up.

Oh God. Oh God.

"I waited for it." He smirked, slow and dangerous. "I let you think I was asleep, just so I could feel you losing control on top of me."

She felt dizzy.

Like the floor had been ripped from beneath her, like she had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

And then—

"Do you know how hard I was because of you?"

She choked on air, panic clawing at her throat, but he just kept going, voice smooth, deep, absolutely merciless.

"I spent nights just releasing, thinking about you."

Her nails dug into the sheets, her thighs clenching involuntarily, heat spiking inside her, mixing with the sheer horror of hearing those words.

"I wanted to lend a hand." His voice dropped lower, teasing, mocking her. "I wanted to flip you over and help you. But I waited."

Her heart slammed against her ribs, her entire body flushed, trembling, but she couldn't stop listening.

Couldn't stop drowning in his words.

"I wanted to see how long you'd last." His fingers brushed against her thigh, barely there, but it sent a full-body shudder through her.

"How far you'd take it before you broke."

Her throat was dry, her skin burning, her body betraying her all over again.

And then—

His voice dropped to a whisper, dark and slow, pressing into her skin like a brand.

"I seduced you, sweetheart."

She sucked in a breath, her stomach twisting so hard it hurt.

"And you fell for it."

A pause.

Then—the final blow.

His hand curled around her wrist, dragging it slowly toward his lap.

Toward the hard evidence of exactly how much he wanted her.

"And now," he murmured, lips grazing her ear, "what are you going to do about it?"

She never stood a chance.

Not against his words.

Not against his hands.

Not against him.

Because the moment he pulled her hand to his lap, the moment she felt the heat of him, the moment his voice curled around her like smoke and sin—

She was gone.

She didn't think.

Didn't hesitate.

Didn't stop herself as she gave in again.

And again.

And again.

Their bodies collided in desperate, uncontrollable hunger, the world outside forgotten, time itself losing meaning as he took her apart over and over again.

She screamed for him, moaned his name, let him ruin her completely, let him pull every last ounce of restraint from her soul until she had nothing left to fight with.

She lost count of how many times he made her come, of how many times he dragged her back into the fire, never letting her escape, never letting her breathe, never letting her be anything but his.

Until—

Her body gave out.

Until she collapsed against him, completely wrecked, limp, unable to even lift her head.

Until her world faded to black.

The Wake-Up Call

She woke to the sound of her phone buzzing relentlessly.

Her eyelids felt heavy, her body sore, her skin still tingling from the hours of relentless pleasure that had torn through her.

She could barely lift her arm as she reached for her phone, blinking against the morning light spilling through the penthouse windows.

Then—she saw the screen.

Her stomach dropped.

John (13 Missed Calls).

Mark (5 Missed Calls).

Leo (3 Missed Calls).

Her heart lurched.

She had never missed coming home.

She had never not answered.

She sat up too fast, her vision spinning, her pulse racing in full-blown panic as she swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Where the hell are you?!" John's voice snapped through the speaker, his tone a mix of worry and frustration.

She swallowed hard, guilt slamming into her.

"I—I was—"

She hesitated, her mind blanking completely, because what was she supposed to say?

That she had spent the entire night being completely and utterly ravaged?

That she had forgotten about everything and everyone outside of this bed?

Outside of him?

A low chuckle rumbled behind her, and her entire body stiffened.

She turned slowly, heart jumping into her throat, as she saw him.

Awake. Smirking. Listening.

And—

Completely unbothered.

His green eyes were amused, his bare chest still slick with the aftermath of last night, his body languid, relaxed, stretched out against the pillows like a man who had just ruined her beyond repair.

He knew.

Knew exactly what she was feeling.

And he was enjoying every second of it.

She whipped her head back around, forcing her voice to sound normal.

"I—I'll be home soon," she stammered, gripping the sheet around her body. "I just—lost track of time."

A lie.

A terrible one.

John sighed heavily. "Just get here. We were worried."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her.

And as soon as the call ended, she let the phone drop from her hand, her face burning with shame and something else entirely.

Because she wasn't just ruined.

She was trapped.

And the worst part?

She wasn't sure she even wanted to escape.

You said:

She went home bonded with them. Her mind going back to him. Her body sore but all she could think is him. She lost her cherry which she guided so much but she had no regrets. If this is something temporary, then she's ready to take all she can

She went home.

Did what she was supposed to do.

She cooked, laughed, played games with her brothers, listened to their endless stories about school, about their latest crushes, about things that should have grounded her.

But her mind wasn't here.

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to just be normal again—

All she could think about was him.

His hands on her body.

His mouth on her skin.

The way he had pulled her apart, ruined her completely, over and over until she had nothing left to give.

And the worst part?

Her body still ached.

Sore. Sensitive. Marked.

But it wasn't enough.

She wanted more.

She had spent her entire life guarding herself, keeping her body untouched, telling herself she would never give in so easily.

And yet—

With him, she had willingly crumbled.

She had offered herself to him, let him take everything, and she had done it without a second thought.

She had lost her cherry.

The thing she had once valued so much.

And yet—

She had no regrets.

Not one.

Because if this was temporary, if this was just a fleeting moment, then she was ready to take everything she could.

To let him have her.

To drown in him.

For as long as he would let her.