LOGINMy sister had just left for her night shift when Ethan cornered me in the hallway, voice low and rough: “You’ve been teasing me for weeks. Stop pretending you don’t want this.” I meant to push him away. Instead I whispered, “Then take it.” Seconds later he pinned me against the wall, shoved my panties aside, and drove his thick cock deep into my dripping pussy in one brutal thrust. As he pounded into me, the filthy realization slammed through my mind — I never knew my sister’s husband’s cock was this fucking good… ughh. My pussy clenched hard around him, wetness flooding down his shaft. Guilt tried to hit, but I only rolled my hips faster, moaning shamelessly as I took every inch like the forbidden slut I had just become. That was the night I let my sister’s husband fuck me senseless. Now I crave the man I’m not supposed to touch… and I don’t know how to stop.
View MoreKahlan's POV
I'm getting fucked tonight, and it was going to be my high school crush, Callahan Ortiz. I've liked him since my first day here. Four years of praying he’d notice me, four years of stolen glances and pretending to drop things near his locker just for a glimpse of his smirk.
Now, he finally saw me. Or at least, he pretended to. And I was finally doing it. Right before summer break. Right before I turned eighteen… in less than five minutes.
Focus, Kahlan.
My mind was a mess, spinning in circles as his mouth latched onto my neck. It was wet and sloppy, more pressure than pleasure, but I tried not to think about it.
His hands roamed my body too quickly, not savoring a moment like I would have preferred. One hand cupped my breast. The touch suddenly felt wrong.
Was this how foreplay was supposed to feel? I let out a gasp, but it sounded more like I was struggling to keep up with something I didn’t want.
Then the church bell rang in the distance… midnight.
My birthday.
“Callahan…” I murmured, my hands gently pushing at his chest.
He didn’t stop. His fingers were still on me, like he hadn’t heard a thing.
“Yes?” he answered, too focused on undoing my shorts to care.
“It’s my birthday,” I said again, almost as a reminder to myself that this moment should matter more, to me, to him.
“And?” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “You talk too much. We need to hurry. I have to meet my girlfriend, okay? I know you’re a virgin and all, but try not to be so stiff.”
His words hit me like a slap. No. Worse, like a whip. My chest tightened with the realization that I should have just stayed home and just touched myself ....anything but this. He was exactly what everyone said he was. A jerk. And I had walked straight into it.
“Get off me.”
He didn’t move. He caged me between him and the car door, his hand fumbling with the buttons of my shorts like he had every right.
“Stop it!” I shouted, finally breaking one hand free and grabbing his wrist before he could go further. “I said stop.”
I gripped his arm tightly, and suddenly…..His weight sagged against me, and then he collapsed to the ground.
“Callahan?” I gasped, stumbling back.
He hit the floor hard, and my blood turned cold when I saw his face....There was blood leaking from his nostrils, from the corners of his eyes like tears. His breath came in ragged wheezes, legs twitching as he tried to crawl away from me. Panic flashed in his eyes, pure, unfiltered panic.
“What the hell… are you okay?”
I knelt beside him, reaching out to help, but the moment my fingers brushed his skin, he jerked violently and vomited more blood. I pulled back, but my eyes stayed locked on his.
Something was wrong.
I looked down at my hand, still resting on his arm, and noticed the skin beneath my fingers. His veins were turning black, dark lines spreading out like cracks in glass. They kept moving, snaking up through his chest, his neck, his face, until they reached his eyes.
And then, just like that, the light left them.
He wasn’t breathing. His chest had gone completely still. No movement. No sound. Nothing.
He was dead.
I stared at him, frozen.
And yet, somewhere deep inside me, beneath the fear and confusion, I felt something I couldn’t name. A quiet rush. A sense of… energy?
No. That couldn’t be right.
Was I imagining it?
Refreshed. I felt… refreshed.
Before I could make sense of the situation, I heard the clatter of a can and the beam of a flashlight cutting across the trees.
Someone was coming.
Panic shot through me like lightning.
I stood up fast, my legs shaky beneath me
My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t be here. Not with his body on the ground, not with his blood on my body.
The flashlight beam cut closer, snapping me out of my trance.
Run.
You have to run.
My legs moved before my brain caught up, tearing me away from the car and the corpse and the horror of what Just happened. Tears blurred my vision as they slid down my cheeks, but I didn’t look back.
I just ran... like the devil himself was chasing me.
~~~~
It had been a month since what happened to Callahan.
Some days, it still felt like a dream, like something my mind had made up. But the very next morning, reality hit me all over again.
I remembered walking past the dumpster behind our building, the same way I always did. There was this stray dog that liked to hang around. Old and scrappy, but it always wagged its tail when it saw me. I bent down, reached out to pet it…
And it died.
Just like that.
Its body convulsed once, and then those same black veins I had seen on Callahan crept across its skin. I watched them spread like roots underneath its fur, and I knew. I knew I had done it. Again.
Whenever it happened, it felt like fire inside me. Like something surging through my veins, too fast and too hot. But it wasn’t pain. It was power. Energy. I felt stronger. Sharper. As if whatever made them die was now part of me, tucked into my bones.
It was like I was stealing their life force and pulling it into mine.
That was why I kept to myself now.
I didn’t touch anyone. I didn’t even let them get close. I kept my hands shoved in my pockets, covered with gloves.
I only went out at night. The streets were quieter then, emptier. People didn’t brush past you. They didn’t smile. They just kept walking and that was exactly what I needed.
Even this café stayed nearly empty after ten. That was the only reason I came here.
And for a little while, I could almost pretend I was just a normal girl again.
Almost.
It wasn’t long before a group of people came in, talking loudly, pulling me out of my thoughts. I knew those voices.
Shit.
“Kahlan?”
I looked up. Jess. Amber. Mo. The usual crowd. All perfect hair and tight sympathy, or correction, fake sympathy.
Jess dropped her tray on my table. “You okay? I mean… with everything? We haven’t heard from you in a hot minute.”
I blinked. “Everything?”
“Callahan,” Amber said, like she had been dying to say his name out loud. “People said you two were kinda… you know. Together that night.”
I sipped my drink. “I only met him in the morning. He promised to stop by my house later, but he didn’t.”
“He was such a jerk, though,” Mo chimed in, chewing on her straw. “But hot. Like in a ‘will-ruin-your-life’ kinda way.”
Jess leaned forward. “So you guys didn’t, like, hang out that night?”
“Nope.”
Lie.
“Your gloves look so rad, girl. Can I see them?”
I froze.
Amber was already reaching out her handsy fingers. I yanked my hand back so fast my drink nearly tipped.
Her brow arched. “Relax, Kahlan. It’s just gloves.”
“It’s part of my new aesthetic,” I said. “Summer goth. Tragic vibes. And it’s expensive.”
Mo snorted. “Tragic is one word for it.”
I was about to fire back when I caught something in the café mirror. A figure leaning against the window across the street with his hoodie up, Face mask on. Watching me.
I turned my head, and the moment he noticed, he ran.
What the—
I was already on my feet.
“Kahlan?” Jess called. “Where are you going?”
I didn’t answer. I shoved the café door open and took off after the figure. This wasn’t the first time, or even the third. I had brushed it off as paranoia before but I was right. Someone was definitely watching me.
“Hey! Wait!” I shouted, already sprinting across the road, my iced coffee sloshing in its cup before I tossed it away. “Come back!”
The figure was fast. Their hands jammed in their pockets like they weren’t even trying. Like they knew I couldn’t keep up.
“Who the hell are you?!” I yelled, pushing past parked bikes and leaping over a fallen signboard. “I’ll call the police!”
That made him stop.
Just for a second.
The figure turned and let out a low, amused laugh.
“The police?” they said, voice muffled under the mask. “You want them to know what really happened to the bratty Callahan kid?”
My blood went cold.
Everything in me screamed to stop, to turn back...but I didn’t.
“Say that again,” I dared.
But he was already running again, cutting through the edge of the street and straight into the woods behind the community lot. Waiting for me to follow.
“Keep up, Kahlan. I came for you.”
The café smelled of wet wool and burnt espresso. Rain streaked the windows in long, silver lines, turning the city outside into a smeared watercolor. I sat in the back booth with my back to the wall, hood still up, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had gone cold twenty minutes ago.I hadn’t touched it.My phone lay face-down on the table. Inside it, the hidden folder waited like a loaded gun: the bank transfer, the dashboard screenshot, the voice memo from Ash’s townhouse. Three pieces. Not enough to win anything yet, but enough to remind me I wasn’t walking into this meeting naked.Detective Marcus Brooks was ten minutes late.When he finally pushed through the door, shaking rain from his dark coat, the room seemed to tighten around him. Tall, broad-shouldered, mid-forties, the kind of face that looked kind until you noticed how still his eyes were. He spotted me instantly and crossed the floor without hurry, boots leaving wet prints on the tile.“Ms. Kingsley,” he said, slid
The loft was quiet except for the low hum of the city far below. Rain streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the skyline into a blur of gold and silver. I stepped out of the elevator and found Ethan waiting on the open terrace, hands in the pockets of his charcoal button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows. No shoes. No smile. Just the calm, steady gaze of a man who already knew I would come.I didn’t waste time on greetings. I crossed the space, pulled my phone from my pocket, and set it on the marble island between us.“Read it,” I said.He picked it up. Scrolled. The bank transfer first. Then the dashboard screenshot from his office. Then the voice memo from Ash’s townhouse. He pressed play.Ash’s voice filled the cool air — soft, concerned, sisterly.“I found a five-hundred-dollar transfer… I’m worried… Walk away… Don’t let him own you…”Ethan listened without expression. When the recording ended he set the phone down gently, as if it were something fragile.“She’s moving f
Morning light sliced through the blinds like it was trying to cut me open.I woke curled on my side, skirt twisted around my thighs, the faint dried stickiness of Ethan still between my legs. My phone lay on the pillow — screen dark, but I could feel the hidden folder inside it like a heartbeat. The dashboard screenshot. The contract clauses. The first piece of something that wasn’t his anymore.I didn’t shower. I didn’t want to lose the evidence on my skin.I opened the note app. Typed one line:Day 1: What I keep.Then I stared at it. No more words came.Coffee machine gurgled in the kitchen. I padded out barefoot, poured a mug, stood at the window. The black sedan was gone. The street looked normal. Too normal.My phone buzzed.Dad.Ash mentioned you’re not returning her calls. Everything okay?I stared at the message. Typed I’m fine. Busy. Hit send.Then another buzz.Dad again.She seems worried. Said you’ve been distant. And… something about money missing from a family account?
I drove with the windows down, letting the night air slap my face until it stung. The city lights blurred into streaks, but I could still feel the dried evidence of Ethan inside me — a sticky reminder that I hadn’t washed him off. My skirt rode up every time I shifted gears, the seam of the seat pressing against swollen skin. I didn’t care. The ache between my legs was the only thing that felt honest right now.Ash’s voice kept looping in my head. Don’t let him own you. She’d said it like a plea, like she was trying to save me from drowning in the same water she’d never touched. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to turn the car around, crawl into her lap like I did when we were kids, and let her fix it.But I kept driving toward downtown.Ethan’s text had come through while I was still in the mansion driveway: You handled her perfectly. Meet me at the office. 9 pm. We need to talk strategy.Strategy. The word tasted like metal.I pulled into the underground garage of the glass tower t






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