TEN

SAMANTHA

I stared at his message for a second too long, my thumb hovering.

I should’ve ignored it. Pretended I was asleep. Let the night pass without him.

But I didn’t.

Yeah, I typed back.

There was no delay in his next text. Like he’d been waiting, watching the screen light up.

What are you wearing?

I smirked a little, the corner of my lip lifting without thinking. I knew what he wanted to hear.

The red lingerie you bought me last summer.

A pause. Just a breath of silence between us. But I could feel it. Him. Liking it. Thinking about it.

Wanting more.

I added, Your sister’s here. Crashed on my couch. I can’t come out tonight. And I’m sore.

That last part wasn’t meant to be cruel—it was just the truth. He hadn’t exactly been gentle the last time.

But Mason didn’t take offense. His reply hit harder.

Go to your room. Switch to video. I want to see you.

I blinked at the screen, my pulse starting to rise.

There it was—that pull again. That quiet command in his voice, even through a text. The way he made something inside me curl and tighten, without even touching me.

I looked over at the couch.

Macey was still asleep, bundled in the throw blanket, her face soft and peaceful.

I tucked Macey in, making sure the blanket was perfectly draped over her, the edges tucked tightly so she wouldn’t kick it off in her sleep.

She shifted restlessly, mumbling something in her sleep, and I brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. It was strange, being here, in this space that should’ve felt like a sanctuary.

The stillness in the room felt different tonight. It felt colder, like there was a void in it. A void that I couldn’t fill, no matter how much I wished otherwise.

I stood there for a few moments longer than necessary, watching her.

She wasn’t tangled in the mess I’d created for myself. She wasn’t haunted by the weight of secrets, by the constant tug of a past she couldn’t escape.

She didn’t know about Mason. She didn’t know how deep I was in.

With a sigh, I turned away and left her room, pulling the door shut gently behind me.

The house was too quiet. I made my way upstairs to my room. Tonight, the air in the hallway felt thicker, heavier.

Something was suffocating in it. I couldn’t tell if it was the loneliness or the anticipation of what was about to happen.

The room was dim when I stepped inside. The curtains were still drawn, and the soft glow of the nightlight barely illuminated the edges of the room.

I liked it that way.

The darkness felt safer. It kept everything hidden—the mess of my thoughts, the guilt that sat like a stone in my chest, the way Mason’s influence had seeped into my life and twisted everything I had once known about myself.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sudden sound startling in the quiet. I didn’t even need to look at the screen to know who it was. I could feel it in my bones.

The call I had been waiting for, or perhaps dreading, came through.

Incoming video call — MASON.

I didn’t hesitate this time. My thumb slid across the screen before I had the chance to overthink it.

The call connected, and his face appeared on the screen, half-illuminated by the soft glow of his bedroom light.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his chest bare and muscular, and I felt my legs tighten involuntarily. The sight of him always had that effect on me. A mix of lust and something darker, something far more dangerous.

He lay sprawled across his bed, that same cocky grin on his lips, the one that never seemed to fade. The one that always made my insides twist, both with desire and a deep, consuming fear.

“Took you long enough,” he said, his voice smooth, as if he’d been waiting for me all this time, like I was his to command.

I swallowed, my throat dry. His presence always did this to me. I hated that I couldn’t resist it.

“You said you wanted to see my face,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady, trying to push away the tingling heat crawling up my neck.

I moved a strand of hair behind my ear, doing my best to seem unaffected. But I could feel his eyes on me—studying me, like he always did.

His eyes darkened as he watched me, a glint of something more dangerous flickering in the depths.

“I did,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the way the straps of my lingerie hung loosely on my shoulders. “But I wasn’t expecting you to look that good in it.”

My heart skipped a beat. Damn him for making me feel this way.

The red lace—his choice, not mine—clung to my skin, and I felt exposed even though I was fully covered. It wasn’t the clothes that left me feeling raw.

It was the way he looked at me, as if he could see straight through every layer I’d put up.

His eyes darkened, his gaze sweeping over me slowly, taking in every detail. “You look even better than I remembered,” he said, his voice lower now, richer with desire. “You always do.”

I wasn’t sure if I hated that he knew the effect he had on me, or if I hated myself more for letting it happen.

He never let things stay casual. Mason liked to push, to make things more than what they were. And tonight was no different.

“I like it,” he said, his eyes moving over me slowly, dangerously. “You know that, right? The way it hugs you. Just enough to keep me guessing, but not enough to make me forget who you belong to.”

My breath caught, and I hated that it did. He was always like this, teasing, pushing, and pulling. He never let me forget who held the power between us. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much I craved it.

“Stop,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, let alone to him.

But Mason was never one to listen when you asked him to stop. He smirked, and his gaze never left me.

“Come on, Samantha. Don’t pretend this isn’t what you wanted.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. The words were caught in my throat.

“You like this,” he said softly, leaning closer to the camera, as if his presence could reach through the screen. “You pretend you don’t, but you always show up. You always come back for more.”

I swallowed hard, but I couldn’t find a way to lie to him anymore. Not when he was right. Not when I always did come back.

“Because you pay well,” I said, my voice colder than I felt. “And because you’re convenient.”

It wasn’t true. Not really. But it was the only thing I could tell myself to get through these moments, to hold onto whatever small piece of control I had left.

He didn’t push it. He didn’t call me out. Instead, he just smiled that smile of his. The one that always made my pulse race in a way I didn’t want to admit.

“I can tell you’re lying,” he said softly. “But I don’t care. You’ll show up again. You always do.”

His voice was a whisper now, a coaxing thing, pulling me closer to the edge.

“Take the straps off,” he ordered. “Slow. I want to see every inch of you.”

I hesitated for a brief second before I did as he asked.

Slowly, I slid the straps of my red lingerie off my shoulders, feeling the fabric glide down my skin. His eyes were fixed on me, his gaze like fire, watching every move I made.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice thick with approval. “You know you belong to me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He leaned back on the bed, and his hand moved out of view. I knew what he was doing. I’d seen it before. But even still, I couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop listening to his breath growing heavier, his body responding to mine.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered. “Let me see.”

I hesitated. Just for a second. But then, I did it. My fingers slid down, moving between my legs, and I could hear him, even though we weren’t speaking. The sound of his breath. The low groan he couldn’t keep back.

He was still watching, still waiting, his own rhythm matching mine. I wasn’t sure if it was the sex or the power play that made it so addicting, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

I ran my fingers lightly over the fabric of my lingerie, the material thin and teasing, as if it were mocking me.

My breath hitched, the tension building with each passing second. Mason’s eyes never wavered from mine, and his lips curled into that familiar, knowing smile. The one that always made my skin prickle with a mix of heat and dread.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low, like a whisper in the dark. It was both praise and a command, and I hated how my chest tightened at the sound of it. How my pulse quickened in response.

I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to let him win. But my body, my traitorous body, betrayed me. I slid my hand lower, feeling the heat of my own skin, the soft pulse of desire spreading through me.

I couldn’t stop it anymore. It was too late for that.

His eyes darkened further, watching, waiting. “You can do better than that,” he taunted, and I felt something snap inside me.

I pushed my fingers under the lace, brushing against the soft, sensitive skin. My breath caught in my throat, and I tried to steady myself. Tried to act like I was still in control. But with each touch, each movement, the lines blurred more and more.

“You’re such a good little toy, Sam,” Mason’s voice was a rasp now, low and thick, and I could hear the satisfaction in it, the power he took from me.

I hated him for it. Hated how he made me feel so small, so disposable, even though I was the one doing this. Even though I was the one allowing it.

But I couldn’t stop.

I made sure to keep my eyes on him, as if that was the only way to hold onto whatever little piece of myself I had left. But it was slipping away. I could feel it with every touch.

I glanced at the screen, and his face was twisted with hunger, his lips parted as if he could barely hold it together.

The tension in the air was unbearable, thick enough to choke me. His eyes never left mine, tracking every motion, every small movement, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Let go, Sam. Let me see it,” he commanded, his voice a mixture of desire and impatience.

A wave of heat rushed through me as I felt myself reaching the edge.

I didn’t want this. I didn’t want him to win. But I felt myself slipping, felt the tension in my body as I gave in. Just this once.

And then, I was there, on the edge, the sharp climax pulling at me as I gasped, my body trembling under the force of it.

For a moment, everything was silent—just the sound of my heavy breathing and the thudding of my heart in my chest.

The screen in front of me was still, Mason’s face filled with that smug satisfaction, but the emptiness in me was growing, sinking deeper with each passing second.

The call ended abruptly, the screen going black, leaving me in the silence of my own thoughts.

I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath, but all I could hear was the echo of his voice, the reminder of what I had just done, and the sinking feeling in my chest that I couldn’t shake.

I sat there for a long time, the emptiness swirling inside me, until the ping of a new message startled me.

Check your locker tomorrow. I’ll drop the usual.