LOGINMark POVShe thought she was in control.Sitting on that bench in Lincoln Park, laying down her rules, her conditions, her boundaries like she was drawing lines in the sand.No sex. No touching. No flirting.I sat there and nodded. Agreed to every word. Smiled when she told me to stop smiling.But here's the thing about lines in the sand.The tide always comes in.I drove back to my apartment after our conversation and tossed my keys on the counter. The place was too big for one person. Two bedrooms, open kitchen, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. A graduation gift from my father, just like the car.Theodore Kingsley didn't do small.I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat on the couch, replaying every word she said.I'm in charge. Completely.The way her jaw tightened when she said it. The way her voice held steady even though her hands were shaking in her lap. She thought being firm would keep me at a distance.It did the opposite.Bailey Adams was
Bailey POVI lasted three days before I called him.Seventy-two hours of sitting in my apartment with the curtains drawn, scrolling through job listings that made my stomach turn. Lola called every few hours to check on me. My brother kept texting, but I wasn't ready to tell him I lost my job. The cardboard box sat in the corner of my living room untouched, and every time I looked at it, something inside me sank a little deeper.On the third night, I picked up my phone and dialed Mark's number.He answered on the first ring."I'm in," I said.No greeting. No small talk.A pause."Yeah?" he asked."Yeah. But we need to talk first. In person.""Name the place.""Lincoln Park. Tomorrow morning. Six o'clock.""I'll be there."I hung up before I could change my mind.The next morning, I got to the park at five forty-five. The sun was barely up, the sky still gray and pink around the edges. The air was cool, damp with dew, the kind of morning that reminded me of early training days back whe
Bailey POVMark stood outside my window, his face tight with something between concern and anger.I wiped my eyes quickly with the back of my hand, but it was too late. He had already seen.He tapped the glass again."Open the door, Bailey."I shook my head."Just go, Mark.""Open the door."His voice was firm. No room for argument.I turned off the engine and unlocked the door. He opened it and stood at the door of the driver's seat, his eyes scanning my face, taking in the red eyes, the swollen lids, the tear streaks I hadn't managed to hide."What happened?" he asked."How did you know I was here?""Word travels fast in that building. I heard ten minutes ago and came straight here."I couldn't look at him."I got fired."The words came out flat. Empty. Like all the emotion had already been wrung out of me in the last hour."Fired?" His brow creased. "For what?"I reached into the back seat and grabbed the letter. Handed it to him without a word.He read it standing up. His eyes mov
Bailey POVTwo weeks later, it happened.I walked into the USTAF Academy on a Monday morning with a coffee in one hand and my training bag over my shoulder. The sun was out. The air was crisp. I had spent the weekend putting together a new sprint program for my group, and for the first time in a while, I felt something close to normal.Then I saw the envelope on my desk.White. Sealed. My full name typed across the front in bold letters.No stamp. No return address. Hand delivered.I set my coffee down and picked it up. Something about the weight of it made my fingers go stiff.I tore it open.The first line hit me like a fist.~Dear Ms. Bailey Adams, we regret to inform you that your position as Assistant Coach and Sports Trainer at the USTAF Academy has been terminated, effective immediately.~My eyes read the words three times before my brain caught up.Terminated.Effective immediately.I kept reading.~Following a review of staff performance and professional conduct, the decisio
Bailey POVA week passed.Seven days of showing up early, coaching my groups, and going home to an empty apartment. Seven days of avoiding Mark's side of the track, eating lunch alone in the staff room, and pretending the hollow feeling in my chest was nothing.The whispers had died down. Or at least, I stopped hearing them. People moved on to other gossip, other drama, other things to talk about behind closed hands.But the damage was already sitting in places I couldn't see.It showed up in small ways first. I forgot to log my weekly training report on time. Mixed up two athletes' sprint times on my clipboard. Zoned out during a staff meeting and had to ask the person next to me what was said.Tiny slips.The kind most people wouldn't notice.But Coach Mercer wasn't most people.He found me after practice on a Thursday afternoon. I was stacking cones by the equipment shed when his shadow fell across the grass in front of me."Bailey."I straightened up and turned around.He stood wi
Bailey POVI made my decision Tuesday morning.The whispers hadn't stopped. If anything, they had gotten louder. I caught two more glances in the hallway before lunch. Another conversation that went quiet when I walked into the staff room.The walls were closing in, and I was running out of time.So I texted Mark after practice.~Meet me at the college track. 6pm.His reply came in seconds.~Everything okay?I didn't answer.The drive to the campus felt heavy. My hands gripped the steering wheel too tight. My chest ached with something I couldn't name. Or maybe I could, but naming it would make what I was about to do even harder.He was already there when I arrived. Sitting on the bench near the starting blocks, elbows on his knees, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when he heard my footsteps and smiled.That smile almost broke me."Hey," he said, standing up.I stopped a few feet away from him. Kept my bag on my shoulder. Didn't sit down.His smile faded."What's wrong?" he a
Monalisa POV. The Next Day. I woke up with a throbbing headache, my head feeling mushy like marshmallows. After Greg brought me in from the party, I'd drifted off to sleep, falling into a heavy slumber like a log of wood, sinking to the bottom of the sea. Last night, whatever Lil Cash made me sm
Monalisa POV.She writhed on his tongue, her waist moving over his mouth.Pleasure was clearly visible on her face as she began fucking his tongue, while he held onto her clit with his teeth, wrenching out her orgasm."Too sweet, too sweet," she thrashed her head, from side to side, "My God, Greg.
Monalisa POV.I had never been in a plane before.Neither had I flown in a chopper.A week ago, I didn't know Greg's family owned a yacht, nor did I know Greg had a helipad on the roof of his house where choppers came to pick him up.But here I was, looking out the window of this "Ride", as he had
Monalisa POV. Everyone chanted with jubilation as Myles rained his urine down on Kayla. I wasn't excited, but I watched anyway. After a few minutes, the show was over. A steward appeared with a black bag that was full of cash. Myles dipped his hand into it and brought out a bundle, without counti







