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My heart sank like a stone, and I forced myself to turn away from the house, from them. I couldn't stand to watch her like that, happy with some other guy. She should’ve been happy with me. Only me.
I ripped my car door open and slid inside, banging my fist against the steering wheel. If she had told me, would it have made a difference? Likely not. She would’ve still come on my fingers earlier; she would’ve still been the star of all my fantasies.
Driving away from her house felt like being shrouded in a thick fog. I couldn't stop replaying that look she gave him in my mind. Over and over, I saw it. The way her hair fell over her shoulder, the curve of her lips, the way she laughed so loudly I could hear it through the window.
Part of me wanted to go back, to knock on the door until she opened up, to demand to know who the fuck that guy was. But I didn't. I knew if I did, I'd do something stupid. Something I couldn't go back from.
It felt like hours passed as I drove through the streets of Groveton. Like each minute was an eternity. Maybe I should've gone back. I could've kept watching her through the window, watching her interact with that fucking man.
But did it really matter that she had a boyfriend? She'd leave him for me. I wouldn't give her a choice. She was mine—I'd claimed her.
I hadn't realized where I was until I found myself in the parking lot of my apartment complex, staring at the brick building. The silence in my car was deafening. I reached for my phone without even thinking about it, just to check if she'd texted.
My stomach twisted at the notification sitting on my lock screen.
Three images from Winnie.
My thumb trembled as I unlocked my phone and pressed her messages, not believing this was real. That she'd sent the photos.
Everything I’d just been feeling—the mix of betrayal and anger, a murderous rage so deep I wanted to kill the man who had sat comfortably at her table—it was all gone. It was replaced with an aching need. The same need I always had when it came to her.
The first was just a selfie. My sweet, cute little fawn smiled, her gaze boring into me through the phone. She looked so fucking adorable I wanted to climb into the screen and fuck her.
The next was a picture of her body reflected in a mirror, covered only by a scrap of soft pink fabric. Her hard little nipples poked through the thin material as she bunched the hem in her hand, the golden lamp light making her skin glow.
My breath caught as I stared at the final one. She was in a similar pose as the last photo, but she'd slid the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, letting it fall around her waist and expose her full breasts.
I remembered how big they were, how heavy the one felt in my palm earlier. I wanted to press my cock between them, watch as my head poked out and slid into her mouth with every thrust.
Reaching down, I ran my hand over my cock. I needed to get out of these pants. I needed to fuck myself before I came in my fucking jeans.
I rushed from my car and up the steps to my apartment, taking them two at a time. It took me three tries before I could slip the key into the hole, and I shoved the door open, slamming it behind me. I didn't make it but a few steps into the apartment before I ripped my shirt off and shucked my pants from my body.
Without thinking, I pressed the call button as I sank onto my couch, my cock already in hand. I needed to hear her voice. I needed her to know exactly what she did to me with those photos.
And I needed her to know I hadn't forgotten about the other photo I'd asked for.
The phone rang so long I didn't think she'd answer. But, at the last second, I heard her breathy voice coming through the line.
"Hello?" she murmured, her voice hushed.
"Hi, little fawn. Those were very naughty photos you sent me."
I listened to her breath hitch and could just imagine the way her face flushed a pretty pink color, the same way it had earlier.
"You're a good girl, doing as you were told," I said softly, my fist ghosting over my cock. "But there's one missing."
"I can't—I can't send that to you."
"Sure you can." My hand wrapped tighter around my hard flesh, and I didn't bother hiding my groan. "Show me how your pussy looks when it's being stretched."
"I don't know what to use."
"Do you have a hairbrush?" I asked and smiled at her gasp.
"Hairbrush?" she repeated, sounding utterly scandalized.
"Don't tell me you haven't fucked your hairbrush before? Isn't that a rite of passage for girls?"
