I unlock her door and follow her inside, watching as she moves through her carefully curated space with the kind of predatory precision that suggests she's made a decision about how to handle what we've learned.
She stands in the center of her living room, hands still clenched into fists, her entire body vibrating with barely contained rage. I've been where she is now—standing in the ruins of everything you thought you knew about your own agency, realizing that choices you believed were yours were actually someone else's careful orchestration.
I know what this kind of violation does to a person. How it burns through you like acid, dissolving every assumption you've made about your own autonomy until you're left with nothing but pure, focused fury.
And I know what she needs to do with that fury to survive it.
"Take it out on me," I say, my voice steady despite the weight of what I'm offering. "All of it. Every bit of rage, everyounce of violation you're feeling—channel it into something you control completely."
Lila’s eyes snap to mine, sharp and blazing, a predator assessing her target. The air between us crackles with the intensity of her anger, but beneath it, I see desire, raw and unfiltered, seeking an outlet.
She doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze raking over me, deliberate, calculating, as if measuring the weight of my offer. Her lips part slightly, and I can almost hear the gears turning in her mind, her rage reshaping into something she can wield.
“You think you can handle me like this?” she asks, her voice low, dangerous, edged with a challenge that sends a shiver down my spine.
She steps closer, closing the distance between us, her movements slow and deliberate, like a panther stalking prey. “You think you can take what I need to give right now?”
“I know I can,” I reply, holding her gaze, letting her see the certainty in my eyes. “I’ve seen you at your darkest, Lila. I’ve been there. Let me be what you need.”
For a moment, she stands still, her breathing shallow, her fists unclenching as her fingers flex with restless energy.
Then, with sudden force, she grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me toward her with a commanding, desperate intensity. Her lips crash against mine, not gentle but hungry, her teeth grazing my lower lip as she claims control.
I let her lead, my hands staying at my sides, giving her the space to dictate the pace. She deepens the kiss, her tongue exploring my mouth with possessive fervor, and I respond in kind, matching her intensity without overtaking it.
She pulls back, her eyes searching mine, and I feel the heat of her anger mixing with something deeper, something that’s been simmering since she held a gun to my chest.
“Bedroom,” she says, her voice a low growl, and I follow without hesitation, my pulse quickening with anticipation.
In her bedroom, the atmosphere shifts. The space is familiar—her neatly made bed, the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows across the walls—but it feels charged with her intent.
Lila moves to her nightstand, pulling open a drawer with purpose. My eyes follow her, and when she turns back, she’s holding a black harness and a sleek, curved silicone toy.
The sight sends a jolt through me, a mix of surprise and arousal that makes my breath catch. “You’ve done this before?” I ask, my voice steady but curious, watching as she straps the harness around her hips with practiced ease.
Her lips curve into a slight, predatory smile. “Not with you,” she says, adjusting the straps with precision. “But I know what I want, Kent. And right now, I want to take you apart.”
The words hit like a physical touch, igniting heat that spreads through my chest and lower. My body responds, anticipation building as she steps closer, the toy secured in the harness, a bold statement of her control.
She’s still fully clothed, her cardigan and lace top a stark contrast to the raw power she’s exuding, and the juxtaposition is intoxicating. “Strip,” she commands, her voice firm but laced with warmth that tells me this is about connection as much as dominance.
I comply, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside, my jeans and boxers following until I’m bare before her, vulnerable in a way that feels exposing and freeing.
Her eyes roam over me, lingering on the lines of my body, the scars from my past, the evidence of a life lived on the edge. There’s no judgment in her gaze, only hunger, and it makes my skin prickle with awareness.
She steps forward, her hands on my shoulders, pushing me gently but firmly toward the bed. “Lie down first,” she murmurs, her voice softening slightly. “On your back. I want to see you.”
I obey, settling onto the mattress, my body exposed under her gaze. She climbs onto the bed, straddling my thighs, her harness pressing against me as she leans down to kiss me again, her lips soft and insistent.
The kiss is deep, her tongue tangling with mine, and I feel her hands roaming my chest, her nails lightly scratching across my skin, sending shivers through me. She breaks the kiss to trail her lips down my neck, nipping at my collarbone, her breath hot against my flesh.
“You’re beautiful like this,” she whispers, her mouth moving lower, kissing along my chest, her tongue flicking over a nipple, drawing a gasp from me. Her hands explore, one sliding down to wrap around my cock, stroking slowly as she continues her assault of kisses, her lips pressing against my abdomen, my hips.
The sensation of her mouth on my body, combined with her hand’s steady rhythm, is electric, building the tension in me until I’m arching toward her touch. She takes her time, savoring each reaction, her eyes flicking up to watch my face, drinking in my pleasure.
“Turn over,” she says eventually, her voice husky, releasing me and giving my hip a gentle tap. I roll onto mystomach, then up onto my knees as she positions herself behind me, her hands returning to my hips.
The vulnerability of the position sends a rush through me, my heart pounding as I hear her moving behind me, the soft rustle of fabric and the faint click of a bottle being opened. The air feels heavy with expectation, every sound amplified in the quiet room.
