10

Sophia's POV

My heart dropped into my stomach.

I froze.

My hand stilled between my thighs and breath caught in my throat.

He was standing in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. His eyes were dark, unreadable, fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him the soft click of the latch echoed in the silence.

"Did I ask you to fucking stop?"

I stared at him my brain struggling to process what was happening. "I—you—"

"Continue."

"Thorne I can't—"

"You can." He walked toward the bed each step slow and deliberate. "and you will now continue Continue….Keep touching yourself. Let me watch.” he ordered, his voice still cold, but now edged with something that made my stomach flip a mix of authority and a dark, almost predatory interest.

My face burned as my body was trembling, caught somewhere between embarrassment and arousal. I should have covered myself and asked told him to leave.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

Because I wanted him to watch I wanted him to see what he did to me. I wanted him to know that even after everything he said, after all the cold, cruel words in his office, he still had this effect on me.

My hand moved again, slowly at first, then faster my eyes never left his.

He stood at the foot of the bed, watching me with those dark, hungry eyes with his jaw was tightened and his hands clenched at his sides.

"Faster," he said.

I obeyed my fingers working against my clit, chasing that building pressure.

Soft sounds escaped my throat.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So desperate so needy…. Tell me what you want?” he asked his tone flat, almost clinical, as if he were asking about a homework assignment rather than the throbbing need between my legs.

I swallowed hard with my throat dry. “I… I want you,” I confessed the words raw and desperate. “I need you to… to touch me. To… to make me cum.” My voice cracked on the last word, a whimper escaping despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re such a dirty little slut,” he said the words dripping with contempt and something that felt dangerously like admiration. “Look at you, spreading yourself for your stepfather, begging for his touch while you’re still dripping wet.”

“Please…Ungh” I whimpered

“Spread your pussy for me,” he commanded his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to vibrate through the air. “Show me how bad you’ve been.”

He reached out and grabbed my ankle yanking me toward him. I gasped as he settled between my legs, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

"Thorne—"

His hand replaced mine. His fingers finding my clit circling it with practiced precision making me cry out and bucking against his hand.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" His voice was low, rough. "You wanted me to see you like this. Wanted me to touch you."

"Yes," I breathed. "Yes."

"You're so wet for me." His thumb pressed harder sending sparks of pleasure through me. "You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. Please….."

"Remember,” he said his voice icy again, “I’m your fucking stepfather. You’re not supposed to want this. You’re not supposed to let me touch you like this.” The reminder hit me like a bucket of cold water, but instead of dousing the fire, it only seemed to fan the flames, the taboo nature of his words making my pulse race even faster.

"Please—I'm so close—"

I was right there the pressure was building, coiling tight in my belly I was going to cum and then he stopped.

I whimpered my hips bucking uselessly against his hand. "No—please—"

He pulled away completely, leaving me aching and empty. I looked up at him, confusion and desperation clouding my mind.

He looked down at me with his face cold, hard and unreadable.

"You think you deserve this?" he said quietly. "You think you deserve to feel good after what you did?"

"I —"

"You were a very bad girl earlier today and only good girls get to cum,” he said his voice cold and final each word a reminder of the power he held over me

He shook his head. "And then you come here, to my house, and you touch yourself thinking about me like some desperate little whore."

The word hit me like a slap.

"That's not—I wasn't—"

"Did you think I was going to give you what you wanted?" He chucked. "Did you think I was going to fuck you and make you feel better about yourself?"

I felt tears burning in my eyes.

"You're nothing sophia." His reminds with his voice flat. "You're a one-night stand that should have never happened”

"That's not true—"

"This is what happens when you act like a slut, Sophia." He walked toward the door. "You get used and then you get discarded."

He opened the door and paused, looking back at me over his shoulder.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, his voice cold and final. “And next time you feel the need to touch yourself, make sure you do it somewhere I can't hear you with the thoughts of someone else, I've had enough of your pathetic little games. And remember… this never happened.”

He walked out and closed the door behind him.

I lay there naked and trembling tears streaming down my face.

The pressure and ache was still there but it was buried now, underneath the shame and the hurt and the devastating realization that I meant nothing to him.

Less than nothing.

I pulled the sheets up over my body curling into a ball as the tears came, hot and endless. I pressed my face into the pillow to muffle the sobs.

I'd wanted him to want me. I'd wanted him to touch me instead he reminded me of my place.

And the worst part?

Even after everything he said, every cruel word, every cold look

I still wanted him.

I hated myself for it.

But I still wanted him.