Chapter 23: Just This Once

I understood what he meant the moment the words left his mouth. My stomach twisted into a tight knot. I had money. Plenty of it. I could wire him enough to change his life. Anything to make this stop.

“Ethan, please,” I said, my voice shaking but steady enough. “I have money. I can make you famous. Connections. Whatever you want. Just name it.”

He looked at me, eyes dark and unreadable. For a second I thought he might listen. Then he shook his head slowly.

“Just this once,” he said. “Let me enjoy you. After that, we act like we never knew each other.”

Before I could answer, he closed the distance between us. I stood frozen, back straight, heart hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears. His hand came up, fingers gripping my chin, tilting my face up. His mouth came down on mine, hard and deep. I didn’t kiss him back. I couldn’t. My lips stayed still, cold under his.

He didn’t seem to care. His hands moved then, roaming over my body like he owned every inch. They slid down my sides, cupped my breasts through my clothes, squeezed my waist, grabbed my ass. I wanted to push him away. My arms twitched but stayed at my sides. I knew I couldn’t stop this. Not really. This mess was my fault.

He broke the kiss just long enough to lift me clean off the floor. My legs dangled for a moment before he carried me to the bed, still kissing me the whole way. When my back hit the mattress, he pulled back a little.

“Just this once, okay?” he said again, voice low.

I didn’t answer. I turned my face to the side, staring at the wall. Hot tears slipped from the corners of my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I felt the bed dip as he climbed over me.

Ethan’s hands were rough as he pushed my skirt up. He hooked his fingers in my panties and yanked them down my legs in one quick motion. The cool air hit my clit and I shivered. He grabbed my thighs, spreading them wide, lifting my legs up toward my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut.

He pushed into me deep, all at once. A sharp gasp escaped my throat. It hurt. Not just physically. The humiliation burned deeper than anything else. Here I was, even with all the money I had, yet I was still pinned down and taken like this.

“Fuck, you’re the right fit for my dick,” he muttered, starting to move.

I stayed silent, tears flowing freely now. He thrust harder, holding my legs high so I was folded almost in half. Every stroke felt deliberate, like he wanted me to feel exactly how exposed I was. My body rocked with each push. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixed with his heavy breathing. I bit my lip to keep from making any noise.

After a few minutes he pulled out and flipped me over like I weighed nothing. He yanked my hips up so I was on my knees, face pressed into the pillow. I turned my head to the side, gasping for air.

He slapped my ass once, hard enough to sting, then drove back inside me from behind. This angle was deeper. I gripped the sheets tight, knuckles white. He set a fast rhythm, one hand on my hip, the other reaching around to grab my breast. He pinched my nipple, twisting just enough to make me whimper.

“Doesn’t feel so good when you’re not in control, does it?” he asked between thrusts.

I didn’t answer. He laughed softly and kept going, pounding into me. My knees slid on the sheets. Every time he pulled back and slammed forward, fresh tears soaked the pillow. The humiliation sat heavy in my chest. I had offered him everything, and he chose this instead. To use me. To remind me I wasn’t as powerful as I thought.

He slowed down after a while, grinding deep instead of thrusting hard. His hand slid down between my legs, fingers finding my clit. I tried to twist away but he held me firm.

“Stay still,” he ordered. “Feel it.”

His fingers rubbed in slow circles while he stayed buried inside me. My body betrayed me with unwanted sparks of sensation, but the shame only grew. I hated how he could touch me like this and make me react even when I didn’t want to.

“Stop,” I whispered finally, voice breaking.

He leaned over my back, lips close to my ear. “You owe me this, Evie. After everything.”

Then he pulled out again and rolled me onto my back once more. This time he didn’t lift my legs. He pushed them apart and settled between them, face hovering above mine. His eyes locked on mine as he slid back in, slower now, watching every flicker of emotion on my face.

I turned my head away but he caught my chin again, forcing me to look at him.

“Eyes on me,” he said. “I want to see you while I fuck you.”

He started moving again, deep and steady. Each thrust pushed a small sound from my throat despite how hard I tried to stay quiet. His body pressed me down into the mattress, heavy and warm. Sweat slicked our skin where we touched. He kissed me again, tongue invading my mouth while he rocked his hips.

I tasted salt from my own tears.

After what felt like forever, he shifted positions once more. He sat up against the headboard and pulled me onto his lap, facing him. My legs straddled his thighs. He guided me down onto him, hands on my waist.

“Ride me,” he said.

I shook my head, fresh tears spilling.

“Do it,” he repeated, voice firmer. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

My hands trembled as I placed them on his shoulders for balance. I moved slowly at first, hating every second. He watched my face the entire time, eyes dark with satisfaction. His hands roamed my body again, squeezing my breasts, pinching, slapping my ass lightly when I slowed down. He thrust up to meet me, making me take him deeper. My breathing came in short gasps. The humiliation wrapped around me like chains. Every moan he drew out of me felt like another piece of my pride stripped away.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around me and flipped us again, putting me on my back with my legs over his shoulders. The new angle made everything more intense. He drove into me hard and fast, chasing his own pleasure now.

That same evening, Mark stood outside the house, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He kept replaying that night with Evie. The way she turned him down felt off, like something important was missing from the picture. He couldn’t shake it. His mind wouldn’t let go.

He shook his head and stepped back inside. Evie’s mom was in the living room, folding laundry on the couch. She looked up when he walked in and smiled.

“Still thinking about Evie?” she asked.

Mark nodded and sat across from her. “Yeah. I wanted to talk more about what we discussed. About Evie moving in with us. Have you heard anything from her since?”

Evie’s mom set down a shirt and leaned back. “Give her time, Mark. She has a lot going on. She’ll think about it and come around. You know how stubborn she can be.”

“I do,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just want her close. Feels like the right step for all of us. Did she mention anything to you about it?”

They talked for a while longer, voices low and easy in the quiet house. She told him about her day and the little things that needed fixing around the place. He shared a story from work that made her laugh. Time slipped by as they chatted. Eventually they moved toward the bedroom to put away the folded clothes.

That was when Mark noticed the trousers on a chair in the room.

“Whose are those?” Mark asked, pointing. “They don’t look like they belong to me.”

Evie’s mom glanced at the pants. “Oh, these? I found them while clearing out Evie’s room earlier. They seem like they belong to Alex. Must have been left behind.”

Mark suddenly froze. His mind flashed back to that night, Evie pushing him out of her room in a hurry, the strange tension in the air, her shaky voice telling him to leave. The pieces clicked together too fast. Alex’s trousers on her floor. The way she wouldn’t look him in the eye. His jaw tightened as a dark suspicion settled in his chest. Something had happened in that room. Something Evie was hiding.