24: Did You Enjoy Watching?

Ivy's POV.

The party was perfect.

With loud music pulsing through the house like a heartbeat, the air was thick with energy and the scent of sweat, perfume, and alcohol. People filled every available space.  

Amari had truly outdone herself, and I knew she was ecstatic about it. I should have been too. After all, I had helped plan this.

But I wasn’t.

Instead, I was stuck in my own head, completely bored out of my mind and detached from everything around me.

I leaned against the wall, staring blankly at my untouched drink. The red plastic cup sat between my hands, growing warm from my grip. Around me, people laughed, shouted over the music, moved in waves that never stopped. I wasn’t really seeing them. My mind was elsewhere.

I’d told Amari that parties weren’t my thing, and that I wasn’t in the mood, that I had a million other excuses lined up to avoid it. Even using Demi's unfortunate condition as one excuse.

But she didn't listen. She dragged me here and practically threatened to tie me to her car if I refused.

So here I was.

The problem was, unlike these people, I had nothing to celebrate.

My eyes flicked around the room, taking in the chaos once more. Everyone danced like they had nothing to lose, bodies pressed together in a way that made it clear they’d regret it in the morning. 

Some guy I vaguely recognized was throwing up in the corner while his friends laughed. A group of seniors had taken over the living room, turning it into their own private drinking game.

Everyone was having the time of their lives.

Meanwhile, Brandon had my life in his hands.

My stomach twisted violently, the weight of that realization pressing down on me until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Demi had been bad, he had been cruel, manipulative, disgusting. But at least with him, I knew what he wanted. Control. Ownership.

Brandon was different. He hated me.

Hated me more than anyone I had ever met. And now he had stepped in and taken over the role of my tormentor that it felt like he had been waiting for the opportunity. Like he had been standing on the sidelines, watching, calculating, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

This wasn’t just about control.

Brandon wanted something else. He wanted me and my mother gone.

The woman who was pregnant with his father’s child. His half-sibling. And yet, that didn’t seem to matter to him. Even if he didn’t give a single shit about me, the fact that my mother was carrying his father’s baby should have been enough to make him rethink.

But it wasn’t. 

I could still see him in my head, standing in my room with that smug, knowing smirk, watching me break as I took in the evidence he had plastered all over my walls. Watching me realize that my suffering was his now.

That he could do anything to me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling sharply. I needed to stop. Overthinking wouldn’t help me. It wouldn’t change anything.

But how could I not when everything was on the line once again?

I got off the wall and wandered aimlessly in the main house. I walked until I could no longer hear the music and chatter. 

It was quieter, but not by much. A few people were still around, tucked into corners. Some drunk, some high, and some sucking each other's faces. I continued walking, my fingers trailing against the walls as I let my mind wander.

The hallway stretched ahead, and I barely noticed where I was going until a sound stopped me.

A sharp, rhythmic slapping noise.

And moans. Loud, desperate, and unfiltered.

I froze. I should have walked away. I should have turned around and pretended I had never heard it.

But I didn’t.

Something in me, some sick, twisted curiosity, made my feet stay planted right where they were. My breath hitched as I realized where I was standing.

Right in front of a slightly open door. I didn’t have to look, but I did anyway.

Peeking through the crack, my breath stalled in my throat.

Brandon.

He was standing, his familiar muscular body glistening with sweat as his hands gripping Amari’s hips, fucking her hard against the table. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, her legs spread wide, and her hands clawing at his shoulders as she moaned his name. 

The way he moved, the raw power behind every thrust, the way his muscles tensed and flexed, it was hypnotic.

I should leave. I should run.

But I couldn’t.

I was rooted to the spot, my heart racing as I watched their raw display of lust, feeling something strange coil in my stomach. My skin burned, my breath shallow. 

It was wrong. I knew it was wrong. And yet, I didn’t look away.

Amari's eyes were closed, her face contorted in pleasure as she moaned again, arching into him, while Brandon's gaze was fixed on the point where their bodies connected, as if mesmerized by the act itself. 

As his pace quickened, Amari's moans turned into desperate cries, her back arching off the table. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her legs even wider, as he plunged into her with increasing ferocity.  

I still couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight of their sweaty bodies, and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. It all seemed to heighten my senses, and I felt a tingling sensation in between my thighs.

What the fuck are you still doing here Ivy??

Suddenly, Brandon tilted his head slightly. His face was turned just enough that, for a moment, I thought his eyes caught mine.

No.

He couldn’t know I was here.

Could he?

My heart slammed against my ribs as panic finally set in. I took a shaky step back, willing my legs to work, forcing myself to turn and disappear before he saw me.

I hurried away, my hands shaking as I ran out of the hallway and pushed back into the crowd, into the noise, into the safety of the chaos. 

Without thinking, I downed the sweet liquid in the red cup I was holding, hoping it would take my mind off what I just witnessed 

But it didn’t help. Because the images didn't stop.

Brandon. Amari. The way he moved. The way he—

I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing hard.

Get it together, Ivy!

This was insane, and I know I had to forget it.

But no matter how hard I tried, the flashes kept coming. Again and again. And it was like that throughout the damn night.

II was still deep in those lewd thoughts when I felt a presence behind me. I turned to see Brandon and my immediate response was to step away, but before I could, I felt his hand closing around my wrist, and stopping me from moving.

He was towering over me, and I was forced to look up into those cold, dark eyes.

My breath hitched.

His lips curled, his grip tightening just enough to make me still.

“So,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous drawl.

“Did you enjoy watching?”