1. DIRTY STRANGER

VIOLET

I had just walked in on a man twice my age stroking his thick, veined cock to a naked photo of me and he didn’t startle. He didn’t apologize or scramble to cover himself.

Instead, he kept his eyes locked on my phone screen and gave himself one last slow pump before tucking his thick cock back into his pants with the calm control of a man who’d merely been interrupted checking his emails.

“You do realize this is men’s restroom, right?” His voice was low, rough, and edged with irritation.

I glanced around wildly, my cheeks burning. Of course. Of course. In my desperate haze to find somewhere—anywhere—to cry, I hadn’t even glanced at the sign on the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and I stepped inside, cradling the cake box in my hands as though it were made of fragile glass. My heart didn’t just race with excitement—it thundered with six long months of pent-up hunger, a raw, aching need that had been gathering like a storm on the verge of breaking.

I had landed at Chicago Airport only an hour earlier after a three-hour flight from Denver, yet the journey felt like nothing more than a hazy blur now. Today was George’s twenty-fifth birthday, and after half a year of separation, I was finally here, standing on the threshold of surprising the man I loved more than anything.

The thought alone sent a delicious shiver racing down my spine.

I could already imagine the look on his face when he saw me—the way his brown eyes would widen and how that familiar boyish grin would split across his handsome face right before he pulled me inside, kiss me senseless, and fucked me against the nearest wall hard and urgent, he couldn’t wait another second.

Because he knew that was exactly what I needed. What I had been craving with every fiber of my being.

Six months without him had been pure torture. No cock stretching me open, no rough hands pinning my wrists, no hot mouth devouring me until I screamed. Nothing but me and my growing collection of vibrators, desperately fucking myself late at night while I watched him stroke his beautiful cock on our video calls.

Three years together, and still I craved him with an intensity that sometimes left me feeling almost ashamed. George had always teased me that I possessed the insatiable sex drive of a succubus, and he wasn’t wrong. Even when we had lived in the same city, sharing the same bed every night, I had wanted him every single day—sometimes multiple times a day. My appetite for dick was endless, and the long-distance separation had only sharpened it into something almost painful.

When George had first moved to Chicago to start his own business, the distance had nearly driven me insane. But we both knew he had to take the opportunity. It was his dream to build something of his own in tech and I refused to be the kind of girlfriend who held him back.

So I stayed behind in Denver, holding onto my stable job at the marketing firm. I sent him money whenever he said the business needed it, all while quietly and tirelessly searching for positions in Chicago—anything that would allow us to finally close the distance and start building the future we had promised each other so many times.

My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored wall of the elevator, and I couldn’t help but smile. Loose, tousled waves of hair framed my face, and my green eyes sparkled with a heady mix of excitement and barely contained lust. The short, fitted dress I had chosen hugged every curve of my body like a second skin, the deep neckline dipping just low enough to reveal the soft, inviting swell of my breasts. I had picked this dress deliberately, knowing exactly what it would do to him.

I wanted him feral tonight. Wild. Unrestrained. I wanted him to lose control the moment he saw me.

The elevator chimed at the fifth floor, and I stepped out, my heels clicking softly on the polished hallway floor. Apartment 512 waited at the very end of the corridor, exactly as George had shown me during one of our video calls when he’d proudly given me the grand tour of his new place.

I shifted the strap of my purse higher on my shoulder and balanced the cake box with both hands. By the time I reached his door, I was practically vibrating with a intoxicating blend of excitement, love, and raw, throbbing need.

I pushed the door open with a quiet creak. The familiar scent of George’s cologne wrapped around me as as my gaze drifted across the living room. A smile began to bloom on my lips until it shattered at the sound of a woman’s voice drifting from the bedroom.

"I can't keep doing this forever, babe. When are you going to leave her?"

My steps faltered.

Leave her?

The words didn’t make sense. They couldn’t. My mind scrambled to reject them, to twist them into something harmless, anything but what they sounded like. I must have misheard.

Clutching the cake box tighter that suddenly felt heavier in my hands, I forced myself forward.

"Very soon, baby. I promise." George's voice answered, husky and familiar in a way that made my chest tighten.

“I just need her to send one more transfer. She’s getting her bonus next week, twenty thousand dollars. Once that clears…” He let out a quiet breath. “I can cut her loose clean.”

The world tilted.

Something inside me twisted, sharp and unbearable, as if my insides were being wrung out.

Still, I kept moving toward the bedroom door.

“Mmm... ,” the woman said, her tone shifting to something playful yet needy. "George, I miss you inside me"

“Fuck, baby I miss you too,” George replied, his voice dripping with lust. "You know I do. And once I squeeze that bonus out of her? She's gone. We're done playing house with her money. Come here."

A soft, breathy moan followed. Then another, deeper and more urgent.

Every instinct inside me screamed to turn around. To run. To pretend I'd never come. But my feet refused to move. With a trembling hand, I pushed the bedroom door open.

There he was. My boyfriend of three years. Completely naked, his hips thrusting hard and rhythmically into the woman beneath him.

“Fuck, Bella,” he groaned, his voice raw and hoarse with ecstasy. “You’re so fucking sweet. No one feels like you."

Bella.

The name struck me like a physical slap across the face. Bella—the same Bella he had always brushed off as just his childhood friend. The one he swore was like a sister to him.

The cake box slipped from my hands and hit the floor with dull, sickening thud that seemed to echo like a gunshot.

George froze mid-thrust, his entire body going rigid. His head whipped around toward the doorway.

Toward me.

His eyes widened in pure shock, the color draining from his face.

“Violet? Oh shit—Violet!” He scrambled off Bella, nearly tripping over his own legs as he fumbled desperately for his discarded pants on the floor. “What the hell—how did you get here? I didn’t know you were coming!"

“If you knew I was coming,” I said, my voice strangely calm despite the earthquake ripping through my chest. “you would’ve hidden the fact that you’re fucking your so-called friend.”

Bella sat up slowly, not even bothering to cover herself fully. A smug, satisfied smile played on her lips as she looked at me with cool amusement, as if she had been waiting for this moment.

George stepped toward me, still fumbling with his pants. "Baby, it's not—"

"And the business?" I cut him off. "The one I’ve been bleeding myself dry for… it’s all a lie, isn’t it?”

“No. No, the business is real,” he said quickly. “I swear to you, Vi. Things just got… complicated."

"Complicated?" The word tasted bitter on my tongue. "You're living with her. Taking my money. Planning to drain my bonus. What part of that is complicated, George?"

"Baby—"

“Don’t.” I snapped, my voice sharpened with anger. “Don’t you dare call me that again.”

"This is more dramatic than I expected" Bella said as she stretched out on the bed, one hand resting lazily on her bare stomach.

"Well, you should probably know I'm pregnant too. But don't worry, he was never going to marry you anyway."

The words hit like a physical blow. Pregnant.

George whirled on her. “Bella, shut the fuck up!”

She shrugged, smirking. “Just telling the truth, baby. Something you clearly can’t say.”

He spun back to me, eyes wild with fear. “Violet, please. Don’t listen to her. It was one mistake. I got drunk, she showed up, things got out of hand—”

"One mistake?" I laughed, but it came out hollow and broken. "Were you still drunk when I walked in on you fucking her?!"

He opened his mouth but no word came out.

"Three years, George!" The words tore out of me. "Three years of my life. I gave you everything. My time. My savings. I paid your business expenses. I put my entire future on hold for us. Meanwhile you are cheating on me!"

Tears burned at the edges of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not in front of her.

“Violet, I love you” He reached for my arm, but I jerked away as if his touch were poison. “I swear I do. The baby doesn’t change that. We can still fix this. The business is so close to taking off. If you could just send one last transfer—twenty thousand—I’ll prove it to you. I’ll cut her off. We’ll go to counseling. We’ll get married like we planned. Please, Vi.”

“More money?” I spat, disgust burning my throat. “After everything, you still have the audacity to ask me for more? You want me to fund her pregnancy too?”

"That's not what I meant—"

"It's exactly what you meant." I stepped back, putting distance between us. "You know what? Consider all money you've collected from me as a gift. A parting gift from the woman you used while you built a life with someone else."

"Violet—"

"We're done, George."

I turned and stormed out of the apartment, my vision blurring as I hurried down the hallway.

His desperate calls followed me down the hallway—Vi, wait, I'm sorry, please, I love you—but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Because if I stopped, I would fall apart. And I refused to let him see me fall apart one more time.

The cab ride back to the airport was a blur of streaking lights. I stared out the window, completely numb, the excitement and hope I had carried with me few minutes ago now replaced by a hollow, crushing ache deep in my chest.

By the time I reached the airport terminal, my phone began to vibrate incessantly in my clutch—call after call, text after text, his name flashing like a cruel reminder on the screen. I'm so sorry. Please answer. The business is real I swear. I love you. We can fix this. Just send the last twenty thousand and I'll prove it. Vi, please. I need you.

I blocked him and shoved it back inside my purse as I wandered toward the restrooms, desperate for any private corner to finally fall apart.

The moment I locked myself inside a stall, the dam inside me shattered.

Sobs tore from my chest, raw and uncontrollable.

I cried for my parents, ripped away from me in that fatal car accident when I was only six. I cried for the life I thought I was building with George. And for the twenty-two-year-old woman who had just lost everything all over again.

My phone buzzed again. I pulled it out to see Auntie Lydia’s name glowed on the screen.

I wiped my tear-streaked face with the back of my hand, drew in a shaky breath, and answered.

“Violet, dear!” Her voice bubbled with excitement. “I finally spoke to your father’s best friend about you. You remember Mr. Kane, right?”

I leaned against the cold marble sink, frowning. The name stirred a faint, distant memory—someone tall and serious from my childhood, back when my parents were still alive.

“I… barely remember him,” I said quietly.

“You'll get to know him tomorrow." She replied.

"He told me there’s a wonderful position open at his company right there in Chicago. Can you imagine? It could be exactly the fresh start you need. You’d finally be closer to George—”

“There’s no point anymore. George and I have broke up”

“What happened?” she asked, her voice softening instantly.

Fresh tears welled up, spilling over before I could hold them back. They slid down my cheeks in relentless streams as I told her everything that happened.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Her tone shifted instantly, thick with fury and sorrow. “That worthless boy. I always knew he was using you, but I kept my mouth shut because I saw how much you loved him. I’m so, so sorry you had to find out like this.”

A sob caught in my throat. “It hurts so much, Lydia,”

“I know, baby. I know it does. But listen to me—this job offer is still yours. In fact, it’s more important now than ever. The salary is more than double what you’re making. And it’s coming from a man who loved your father like a brother. Don’t you dare let that cheating bastard take anything else from you.”

I wiped at my eyes again, the weight of her words sinking in. Part of me wanted to say yes, to run toward something new. But right now, everything hurt too much. “I don’t know, Lydia. I just… I need time.”

“We’ll talk more when you’re back,” she said gently. “But promise me you’ll at least consider meeting him when he’s back in Denver tomorrow.

We spoke for a few more minutes—her offering gentle reassurances, me promising weakly that I would think about it. When we finally hung up, I splashed cold water on my flushed face, patted it dry with a paper towel, and stepped out of the restroom. Only when I reached my seat did I realize my phone was no longer in my purse. I must have left it behind.

Cursing under my breath, I hurried back.

I pushed the restroom door open and slipped inside, letting it click shut quietly behind me.

One step forward and a low, guttural groan stopped me cold. The sound was raw, masculine, and so thick with need that every nerve in my body lit up in warning.

Leave. Now.

But my legs refused to obey.

Then I saw him.

A tall, powerfully built man stood at the marble counter, offering only his side profile as he faced the wide mirror. He looked to be in his late forties, with dark hair impeccably styled, a sharp, defined jawline, and broad shoulders that strained against the expensive fabric of his tailored suit.

His huge, veiny cock jutted out proudly from his open pants, thick and flushed dark with arousal. One large, tattooed hand gripped the heavy shaft, stroking it in slow, deliberate pumps while his other hand held a phone.

My phone!

The realization struck me like ice water. That was my phone in his hand. And on the screen… I was wearing only a tiny red lace bra and matching panties, my body arched seductively. The very photo Lydia had scolded me for keeping as my wallpaper.

A violent flush of heat swept through me.

I should have been horrified. Violated. Furious that this stranger had my phone and was using my body to get himself off.

Instead, my nipples tightened into painful peaks beneath my dress, and my thighs pressed together against the sudden, aching throb between them.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I'd just watched the man I loved fuck another woman and here I was dripping wet than I’d been in months. My nipples tightening against the fabric of my dress like my body had completely divorced itself from my brain.

"Yes… fuck, just like that," he groaned, his fist moving faster. His eyes stayed glued to my photo, devouring it like he was imagining all the filthy things he wanted to do to the girl on the screen.

I should have cleared my throat. Snatched my phone. Screamed at him. Called for security.

I did nothing. I simply stood there, pulse thundering between my legs, watching this beautiful, dangerous man fuck his fist to my body like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

My purse suddenly slipped from my numb fingers and hit the floor with a sharp crack.

His head snapped toward me.

The moment our eyes locked, the air turned electric.

His hand stilled mid-stroke, still gripping his thick cock. Those piercing blue eyes darkened, turning sharp and dangerously hungry like a predator who had finally cornered its prey.