Chapter 5 _ Digital Tease

Alexandra's POV

Portland had settled into a cold, quiet January rhythm by the time the itch became unbearable.

Two weeks since Caleb. Three since Jace. The bruises on my hips had faded to pale yellow ghosts, but the memory of his hands hadn’t.

Every time I sat down to work, every time I crossed my legs under the table, every time the shower spray hit between my thighs, I felt him. The stretch. The rhythm. The way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing that existed in that storm-drenched hotel room.

I hated how much I wanted it again.

I hated more that I didn’t know his last name, his number, his anything beyond the way his cock felt when he buried himself to the hilt and groaned my name like a prayer.

So I did what any self-respecting, sexually frustrated graphic designer in 2026 would do: I downloaded the app everyone was whispering about.

EchoLink.

Anonymous. Encrypted. No photos unless both parties agreed. No real names. Just voice notes, text, and—if you were brave—video.

Designed for people who wanted connection without the mess of faces and futures.

I created a profile in five minutes flat.

Handle: VelvetRain

Bio: “One night left me ruined. Looking for distraction that doesn’t ask questions.”

Avatar: a close-up of rain-streaked window glass, nothing identifiable.

I didn’t expect much. Just something to take the edge off.

The first few matches were predictable. Dick pics (instant block). Boring small talk. A guy who wanted to role-play as professor and student (hard pass).

Then came the message that stopped my thumb mid-swipe.

ShadowForge: “Ruined how?”

Simple. Direct. No emojis. No follow-up thirst trap.

I stared at the screen for a full minute, heart doing that stupid flutter thing it hadn’t done since the elevator doors closed behind us.

I typed before I could overthink it.

VelvetRain: “He fucked me like he knew every secret I’ve ever tried to hide. Then I left before he could wake up. Haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

ShadowForge: “Sounds like he’s still thinking about it too. Bet he’s replaying every second. Bet he’s hard just remembering how tight you felt.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, then lower. I shifted on the couch, thighs pressing together.

VelvetRain: “You’re awfully confident for someone who doesn’t know me.”

ShadowForge: “I know women who run don’t run because they didn’t feel it. They run because they felt it too much. Tell me—what did he do that you can’t stop replaying?”

My fingers trembled as I typed.

VelvetRain: “He went down on me like he was starving. Slow at first, teasing, then relentless. Sucked my clit until I came on his tongue, then kept going until I was begging. Then he fucked me so deep I saw stars. Twice. I’ve never come that hard.”

The response was instant.

ShadowForge: “Fuck. I can picture it. Your thighs shaking around his head. Your fingers in his hair. The way your back arched when you broke. Did you scream his name?”

VelvetRain: “Yes. Loud enough the neighbors probably heard.”

ShadowForge: “Good girl. He deserved to hear it. Did he tell you how good you tasted? How wet you were for him?”

My breath came shallow. I was already slick, aching. I slid a hand under the waistband of my sleep shorts, fingers brushing my clit—light, testing.

VelvetRain: “He growled it against me. Said I was dripping for him. Called me perfect.”

ShadowForge: “You are. Touch yourself right now. Slow circles. Imagine it’s his tongue again.”

I obeyed without hesitation. My fingers moved in lazy loops, spreading the wetness, teasing the swollen bud. My head fell back against the couch.

VelvetRain: “I’m doing it. God, I’m so wet.”

ShadowForge: “Describe it. Every detail.”

VelvetRain: “My clit is throbbing. Slick everywhere. Two fingers inside now—stretching. Not enough. Wish it was him. Wish it was thicker, harder, filling me completely.”

ShadowForge: “Add another. Fuck yourself like he would. Deep. Rough. Pinch your nipple with your other hand. Hard.”

I gasped aloud as I followed. Three fingers now, curling, hitting that spot that made my toes curl. My free hand tugged my tank top down, pinched my nipple until it stung deliciously. The dual sensation shot straight to my core.

VelvetRain: “Fuck yes. It’s building fast. I’m so close.”

ShadowForge: “Not yet. Edge yourself. Slow down. Tell me when you’re right there, then stop.”

Sadistic. Perfect.

I slowed my fingers, whimpering at the loss of rhythm. My hips bucked, chasing friction that wasn’t there.

VelvetRain: “I’m there. Right fucking there. Please.”

ShadowForge: “Stop. Hands off. Count to ten.”

I whined—actually whined—out loud in my empty loft. My whole body was trembling, clit pulsing angrily.

I counted.

One.

Two.

…

Ten.

VelvetRain: “I hate you.”

ShadowForge: “No you don’t. You love it. Now start again. Faster this time. Imagine it’s me fucking you against the wall of that hotel room. My cock slamming into you. My hand around your throat. My voice in your ear telling you to come for me.”

The image hit like a freight train. I plunged three fingers back inside, thumb flying over my clit, hips grinding against my hand.

VelvetRain: “Yes. Fuck. I can feel you. So deep. So hard. Choking me just enough. Telling me I’m yours.”

ShadowForge: “You are. Come for me, VelvetRain. Now. Scream my name when you do—even if you don’t know it.”

I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me—violent, blinding, hips jerking off the couch as I clenched around my fingers, wetness soaking my hand, my shorts, the cushion beneath me. I cried out, raw and broken, “Jace—fuck, Jace—”

When the aftershocks faded, I was panting, boneless, tears pricking my eyes.

The chat bubble blinked.

ShadowForge: “Good girl. That was beautiful.”

Then, quieter:

ShadowForge: “I hope he finds you. Whoever he is. Because you deserve to be ruined again. Properly.”

I stared at the screen, chest heaving.

For one wild, irrational second, I wondered…

No. Impossible.

I closed the app. Deleted the chat history. Turned off my phone.

But as I cleaned myself up in the bathroom, legs still shaky, I couldn’t shake the echo of that voice in my head—the one that wasn’t really there.

Low. Rough. Commanding.

The same voice that had whispered “come for me” against my throat in a rain-soaked hotel room.

I looked at myself in the mirror—flushed cheeks, wild eyes, swollen lips from biting them.

And I whispered, just once, to the empty room:

“Jace.”