The pool was already packed when I stepped outside.
Girls draped over lounge chairs in barely-there bikinis. Boys cannonballing off the rocks. Laughter echoed under the sun like sin having a party. The air smelled like coconut oil, chlorine, and teenage recklessness. But when I walked out in my red one-piece? Everything shifted. Eyes dragged. Whispers started. Thirst bloomed. Because the suit was fucking good. Painted to my skin. High on the hips. Deep between the tits. Thin enough that when I got wet, it turned fucking transparent. And I wanted it that way. I wanted them to look. I wanted him to smell it. Tasha met me by the edge of the pool, tits bouncing in a lime green bikini that barely held her in. Her nipples were hard as diamonds under the thin fabric, and she didn’t give a single fuck. “Oh my Goddess,” she squealed, grabbing my hand. “You look so fucking hot.” “You think?” “I think if my dad sees you in that, he’s gonna lock you in the basement and never let you leave.” I laughed…but my thighs clenched. Because that didn’t sound like a punishment. It sounded like a promise. Tasha spun and slapped her own ass. “Come on! Everyone’s here. We’re doing shots on the floaties.” I followed her down the stairs into the water, the cold slicing against my heat, my nipples hardening instantly. It felt filthy. Like a tease. Like a fuck waiting to happen. There were at least six people already in the pool. Molly..black hair, big tits, chewing her straw like it was a cock. Her top was red and practically useless, her nipples dark and pushing against the soaked triangles. Violet..curvy, thick, always pouting. Her bikini was gold. Her tits floated on the surface of the water like soft sex toys begging for hands. Sofia…tiny, tan, loud. Her string top was slipping and she didn’t even bother to fix it. Three boys were near the deep end. Big. Tall. Alpha-blooded. Practically naked. Their shorts clung to thick, veiny cocks that swelled the fabric. I couldn’t stop looking. Matteo…tattooed. Scar across his brow. Dick so fat it looked painful. Romano..quiet, broody, but packing a cock that curved like a weapon, heavy enough to swing in his shorts every time he moved. And Nico..cocky as fuck. His bulge was massive. Thick at the base, fat at the tip. The kind that made your jaw ache just thinking about it. I swam slowly, feeling the water glide over my body like a stranger’s tongue. When I surfaced, Tasha handed me a shot. “To filthy fucking summers,” she grinned. We clinked. We drank. The burn was nothing compared to what I felt inside. “I missed you so much,” she whispered, wet and drunk and glittering in the sun. “This summer’s gonna ruin us.” She pressed her lips to my cheek. Her tits brushed my chest. Her fingers lingered. Then someone pushed her under. Chaos broke out. Splashes. Screams. Laughter. And in the middle of it? Matteo. He climbed out of the pool like sin rising from the deep. Water poured off his chest. His shorts clung to his thighs. His cock bulged like it was trying to break free. My mouth went dry. Then Romano grabbed Violet waist underwater and pulled her into his lap. She gasped..loud. Slapped his chest. Moaned when he bit her shoulder. No one cared. No one looked away. Violet ground her hips against him, moaning louder, wet sounds echoing as the water sloshed. He pulled her bikini to the side under the surface. I could see the motion. His hand. Her twitch. She was riding his fingers. Right there in the pool. I turned to Nico. He winked at me. Then swam up behind Sofia and wrapped his arms around her chest. One hand palmed her tit. The other slipped beneath the water. She arched back against him with a filthy little moan. Tasha was laughing. Her nipples poking out. Her legs brushing mine. And I was soaked. But not from the pool. I moved to the edge. Climbed up. Sat on the hot tile with my legs dangling in. That’s when I felt it. Him. The stare. My spine straightened. My nipples tightened. I didn’t need to look. But I did. High above. Second-floor balcony. Damon. Leaning on the railing. Shirtless again. Cocky. Dangerous. Unmoving. Just watching. His eyes locked on me like a sniper’s scope. Like he could see my cunt clenching through the water. Like he could smell what was leaking out of me. I should’ve covered myself. I didn’t. I arched my back a little. Spread my knees just a hair. Let him look. I wanted him hard. I wanted him furious. I wanted him down here with his hand on my throat and my body bent over the nearest chair. The pool exploded with moans. Sofia was getting fingered hard now. Nico’s hand worked beneath the water while her head rolled back, mouth open, tits bouncing. Violet was full-on grinding on Romano’s cock. I could see it through the water. The movement. The tension. The way her tits slapped against his chest. Her moans were real. Tasha laughed again, then swam toward me, breasts bouncing in the water, tongue flicking out to taste salt or sex or both. “You okay?” she asked, grabbing the edge beside me. I nodded, barely breathing. Her hand found my thigh under the water. “You’re trembling,” she whispered. I looked at her. Then looked up. Damon was still there. Watching. Tasha didn’t follow my gaze. She didn’t know. She just leaned close. Her voice was a purr. “You want to be fucked so bad, don’t you?” I couldn’t speak. She dragged her fingers higher. Past my thigh. Under my suit. Straight to my pussy. I jerked. She didn’t stop. “I knew it,” she giggled. “You’re soaked. And it’s not the pool.” “Tasha…” “Shh,” she whispered, her fingers stroking. “Just for a second. Just let go.” And I did. I came with a whimper. A soft, broken sound that melted on the sun. She kissed my cheek and giggled again. “Told you this summer would ruin us.” And when I looked up? Damon was gone. But I knew..next time? He wouldn’t be watching. He’d be doing. And he’d make me come so hard I’d forget my name.~Lyra~I blinked, too hard. “What? No. I’m acting totally normal. This is my normal. This is my exact personality.” Her eyes narrowed further. “Hmm.” Oh God. “Hmmm.” Stop hmmmm-ing me! Then she leaned in just a little, elbows on the counter, voice low like she was about to deliver a sermon. “Are you… lying to me?” Boom. That was it. My body betrayed me instantly. My fingers jerked, my knee hit the stool leg, and the water bottle I’d just grabbed to calm my panic decided to betray me in public. I tilted it up too fast, missed the timing, and nearly drowned myself on the spot. A full spasm of coughing exploded out of me as the cold water shot down the wrong pipe, up my nose, and straight into my frontal lobe. I slammed the bottle down, choking and coughing and sputtering like a possessed blender, eyes tearing, throat burning, chest heaving like I’d just run from the police. Tasha didn’t blink. She just stared. Then—bam. She laughed. Again. “Got you ag
~Lyra~ She straightened up, wiping a tear from her eye, still giggling like she’d just pulled the world’s most expensive prank. Her laugh had that high-pitched, wheezy chaos to it — the kind of sound that came from the gut, like she was unhinged and delighted and fully prepared to emotionally destroy me before breakfast. “You should’ve seen your face,” she choked out between gasps. “You looked like you were about to shit yourself and cry at the same time. Like a constipated Disney princess mid-breakdown. I thought you were about to pass out, bitch. Like faint, fall, and land in your own sin.” I blinked again. Jaw dropped. Soul missing. Pride on life support. “Haha,” I said stiffly. “Yeah. Right. So funny. Such a good joke. Bestie things. Love that for me. This was a very expensive joke, emotionally, mentally, spiritually… but sure. Let’s laugh about it. Let’s all just ha-ha our way through the gaping hole in my soul. Let’s sprinkle some trauma seasoning on it while we’re at i
~Lyra~Not metaphorically. Like, literally. Toast-in-throat. Juice-up-nose. Panic-mode choke. I smacked my chest. Coughed. Wiped at my nose with my hoodie sleeve like a feral raccoon. Then stared at her like she’d just opened the gates of hell and asked me if I knew Lucifer personally. “What the—what are you talking about?” I squeaked, voice three octaves too high and eyes too wide to look innocent. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t fucking anyone!” She didn’t even blink. She just tilted her head slightly to the side like a therapist about to diagnose me with ‘Lying Whore Syndrome.’ I tried to recover, took a deep breath, and powered through the most chaotic, badly planned lie of my entire existence. “I was using a dildo,” I said quickly. “And my fucking fingers. Okay? That’s it. That’s literally all. Self-care. Like normal girls do when they’re… hormonal and ovulating and bored. I was just… discovering myself. Spiritually. With batteries.” Tasha didn’t say a word. She just stared at
~Lyra~ I didn’t even sit up. Didn’t bother wiping the cum off my thighs or pulling the sheets over my wrecked, twitchy, utterly defiled body. I just held the phone to my ear with one hand, stared at the ceiling like I was God’s favorite disappointment, and let a smile slowly curl across my face. “Oh my God,” I whispered sweetly into the receiver. “Marcus. What a surprise. Did your dick finally get signal?” He stuttered. Actually stuttered. Typical. “I—uh—I just wanted to check on you. See how you were doing.” “How I’m doing?” I purred, voice sticky with fake innocence. “That’s so sweet of you. Really. Because the last time we spoke, you called me useless. Remember that? Because I wouldn’t let you stick your pinkie-dick in me in the backseat of your mum’s Corolla after youth service?” Silence. Oh, I was just getting started. “Well, guess what, baby,” I cooed, flipping onto my back with a wince because my poor pussy was still screaming in multiple languages. “I
~Lyra~I could feel it. His cum was sliding down the insides of my thighs like it belonged there. “And the worst part?” I whispered into the sheets. “The worst part is that I know you’re going to do it again. You’re not done. You haven’t even started. You’re going to keep me here, and make me call you Daddy, and fuck me so many times I forget what daylight looks like. You’re going to ruin me and then smile when I thank you for it.” He groaned again, deeper this time, and I felt his knot twitch. My pussy clenched again. “I’m eighteen,” I whimpered. “I’m supposed to be applying to universities and having existential crises and drinking boba tea while crying over boys who don’t know I exist. Not… this. Not getting bred by my best friend’s dad while my uterus sings the fucking Hallelujah chorus because your cock hasn’t moved in thirty seconds.” I turned my head and looked back at him, my cheeks burning, my hair stuck to my face, my entire body trembling with every tiny movemen
~Lyra~ Because he looked so satisfied. So smug. So calm. Like this was all part of his evil little masterplan. Like he was already planning what desk to bend me over when I started online classes. “You’re smiling,” I hissed, my whole body trembling from where I was still stretched around his cock. “Why are you smiling? This is not a smiling situation. “This is a ‘call the police’ situation. This is a ‘burn the house down and flee to Cuba’ situation. This is not the time for that sexy, arrogant mafia smirk thing you do when you know you’ve won..oh my God you think you’ve won.” His hand slid across my ass, slow, heavy, possessive. “I have won,” he said calmly. “You’re not leaving.” My breath caught. I shook my head so hard it made the pillow shift. “No. No no no. I still have options. I can run. I can get a job. I can join a convent. Or pretend to be possessed. Or fake a coma. Or jump out the window and let Jesus take the wheel. I’m not staying here.” He did