SCREAM FOR ME, KARLEE 3

KARLEE

I don’t remember walking the rest of the way home.

One minute I was still standing in the alley with his cum running down my thighs, and the next I was unlocking my apartment door with shaking hands. My missing heel was still somewhere on the wet concrete. My dress was stained. My panties were gone — I didn’t even know when he’d taken them. I locked the door behind me, dropped my bag, and slid down to the floor with my back against it.

My whole body was still trembling.

I could feel him leaking out of me every time I shifted. The scrape on my cheek stung. My pussy felt stretched and sore and filthy. But worse than any of that was the sentence he had left me with.

*Next time you take the shortcut, Karlee… wear a longer dress.*

He knew my name.

I sat on the floor in the dark for a long time, replaying every second. The voice. The size of his hands. The way he had moved. Nothing about him had felt completely unfamiliar once the fear started mixing with the fantasy. Some part of me had almost recognized the way he spoke against my ear, but the hood and the panic had kept the truth from clicking into place.

I dragged myself to the shower and stood under scalding water until my skin turned red. I washed between my legs three times. I watched his cum swirl down the drain and still felt marked. When I finally got out I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and stared at myself.

There was a raw scrape on my cheek from the brick. Faint bruises already forming on my hips where he had held me. My lips were swollen. I looked exactly like what I was — a girl who had just been used in an alley and come hard while it happened.

I crawled into bed naked and lay there staring at the ceiling, legs pressed together, still feeling the ghost of him inside me. Sleep didn’t come for hours. When it finally did, I dreamed of brick walls and a low voice saying my name like he owned it.

The next three days were hell.

I went to class. I went to work. I answered texts from my friends like nothing was wrong. But every time a man walked behind me on the street my heart rate spiked. Every time someone said my name I flinched. I kept replaying the moment he had leaned in and spoken it against my ear, trying to match the voice to someone — anyone — I knew.

On the fourth night I couldn’t take it anymore.

I went back to the alley.

It was stupid. Reckless. Exactly the kind of decision the fantasy version of me would make. The real version of me stood at the entrance with my pulse hammering in my throat, wearing another short dress and the same jacket, keys clenched so tightly in my fist that the metal bit into my palm.

The alley looked the same. Same flickering light. Same damp brick. Same smell. I walked slowly, heels clicking, every sense on high alert. I made it halfway before I heard him.

Footsteps. Deliberate. Matching my pace.

I didn’t run this time.

When the hand closed around my arm again I already knew. He spun me, shoved me against the same stretch of wall, and pinned me there with his body. This time I didn’t struggle as hard. This time when his hand covered my mouth I only let out a shaky breath.

He leaned in close. The hood was still up, but his voice was clearer now that I was listening for it.

“I told you to wear a longer dress, Karlee.”

The way he said my name made my knees weak. I knew that voice. I had heard it in daylight, in normal places, saying normal things. The recognition hit me so hard I went still.

He felt the change in me. His free hand slid up under my dress and cupped my bare pussy — I hadn’t worn panties this time — and he let out a low, dark laugh when he found me already wet.

“You came back,” he murmured. “And already soaked. Did you miss this cock that much?”

I made a small, broken sound against his hand. He rubbed me slowly, spreading the wetness, then pushed two fingers inside me like he had every right to.

“I know you figured it out,” he said against my ear, thrusting his fingers in a steady rhythm. “Took you long enough.”

He pulled his hand away from my mouth but kept me pinned with his body. I dragged in a ragged breath. My voice came out hoarse.

“Take the hood off.”

For a second he didn’t move. Then he reached up with his free hand and pushed the hood back.

I stared.

I knew him.

The shock and the arousal crashed together so hard I felt dizzy. All the times I had seen him in normal life — talking, smiling, existing in the same spaces as me — collided with the memory of him fucking me senseless against this wall four nights ago. My pussy clenched hard around his fingers.

He watched my face and smiled slowly, dark and knowing.

“There she is,” he said softly. “Now you know.”

He pulled his fingers out, spun me around to face the wall again, and shoved my dress up. I heard his zipper. A second later the thick head of his cock pressed against me — the same cock that had already ruined me once — and pushed inside in one deep thrust.

I moaned out loud this time. No hand over my mouth. No pretending I didn’t want it.

He fucked me against the brick like he had been waiting for me to come back, one hand locked on my hip, the other reaching around to rub my clit in tight, perfect circles. The recognition made everything sharper, filthier, more intense. This wasn’t a stranger anymore. This was someone I knew, taking me in an alley like I belonged to him.

“You thought about me every day since, didn’t you?” he growled against my neck. “Every time you sat down and felt that ache. Every time you got wet remembering how hard you came on a ‘stranger’s’ cock.”

“Yes,” I gasped. The admission felt like surrender.

“Good.” He thrust harder, deeper. “Because this is what you get now. Whenever I want. Wherever I want. Understand?”

“Yes—”

He rubbed my clit faster. The orgasm built with terrifying speed. When it hit, I cried out into the dark alley, pussy pulsing around him, legs shaking so hard he had to hold me up. He followed a few strokes later, burying himself deep and flooding me all over again.

This time when he pulled out he didn’t walk away immediately. He turned me around, looked at my wrecked face, and wiped a smear of cum from my thigh with his thumb before pushing it past my lips.

I sucked it clean without being told.

He watched me do it, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Next time,” he said quietly, “I’ll text you where to be.”

Then he fixed his clothes, pulled the hood back up, and walked out of the alley, leaving me against the wall with his cum running down my legs and the full weight of who he was settling over me like a second skin.

I stayed there until my breathing slowed, the fantasy and the reality finally the same thing.

I knew his name now.

And I already knew I would answer the text when it came.