Chapter 2: Did You Fuck Me?

ELARA.

“Babe… babe… it’s not what it looks like.” Mason said, his eyes locking on mine. His dick was still hard, pointing at me. Bianca sat on top of him looking like someone who had just been interrupted mid-snack.

“Get these locks off me, Bianca,” he snapped, jerking against the handcuffs.

I stood in the doorway and felt every single cell in my body melt. My heart was slamming so hard against my ribs I was surprised it hadn’t cracked one of them. 

My throat burned, my eyes burned, everything burned.

Yes. Definitely. It wasn’t what it looked like. 

It wasn’t my boyfriend of one year handcuffed to a bed while my stepsister rode him like she was trying to win a prize. 

“You’re such a fucking jerk,” I said and the words came out hoarse because tears had already started chokingm me. I didn’t wait for whatever pathetic explanation was forming in his head, I turned around and walked out.

I don’t remember climbing down the stairs or starting the car. I only remember the way my hands shook on the steering wheel. 

I drove back to his apartment on pure autopilot, heat flooding my veins.

“I’ll make that bastard pay,” I muttered as I unlocked the door. “After everything… after every fucking thing.”

My hand reached for the portrait first and I dragged the whole thing off the wall and sent it crashing to the floor. 

The frame cracked clean down the middle. 

“Fuckkkk!” I roared.

The tears came harder mixed with hurt and anger. I grabbed the flower vase next—the one I’d bought him for his birthday because he said he wanted something “nice” for the apartment. 

I lifted it over my head and dropped it. 

One by one I picked his glass cups up and smashed them against the counter, against the wall, against anything that would make a satisfying noise.

I moved through the living room, tipping over chairs, ripping posters down, throwing his precious game controller so hard it left a dent in the wall.

I was destroying everything he owned the same way he had just destroyed my heart. 

My hands found his laptop open on the coffee table and I lifted it, ready to send it the same way as everything else, but my wrist caught the edge of the keyboard on the way up.

The screen lit up and moans filled the apartment.

It sounded utterly familiar, so familiar that I froze.

My voice, higher and breathier than I ever heard it in real life, spilled out of the speakers. 

I looked down at the screen and my stomach dropped so hard I almost threw up on the spot. 

It was a video of Mason fucking me.

I choked hard and my heart rate spiked so fast my eyes blurred. I stabbed at the trackpad, trying to exit the video, trying to make it stop, but the moment I closed it I saw the rest.

A folder, containing dozens of videos. Maybe a hundred. 

Most of them were me, different nights, different positions and different rooms and some of them were from the early stages of our relationship.

He had been filming me from the start.

My knees gave out and I sank onto the edge of the couch, staring at the screen while tears poured down my face. I scrolled through the list with shaking fingers. 

There were other girls too, but mostly it was me. Me, over and over, captured without my knowledge.

Was this all it had ever been?

I loved him. God, I had loved him so hard.

It felt like something was clawing at my chest and it hurt so bad.

I deleted everything, folder after folder, file after file until it was totally empty.

The laptop was as empty as I felt, so I stood up, lifted it over my head, and brought it down on the corner of the coffee table with every ounce of strength I had left. 

I walked out without looking back and headed for the bar just out of town.

I used to have a drinking problem—the kind that made me do things I only learned about the next morning from other people. 

One time I had apparently tried to put my parents’ house up for sale online. Another time I woke up in a stranger’s bathtub wearing someone else’s clothes. I had promised myself I was done with that version of me.

Tonight I didn’t care.

“Two shots of whiskey,” I said, sliding onto a stool.

The bartender poured and I knocked them back so fast his eyebrows raised. 

The burn was absolutely perfect, just what I needed for the night.

“Another two.” I said softly.

He poured again and I gulped them down almost immediately.

“And another.”

I stopped counting after that. The room started to blur, the ache in my chest didn’t disappear, but it got quieter, muffled under layers of alcohol. 

I kept drinking until the bar lights blurred and the sound of other people’s laughter felt like it was coming from underwater.

Just play it out, I told myself. Just let it go black, just let me stop feeling this intense pain for five fucking minutes.

My eyes opened to a headache that felt like someone was trying to jackhammer their way out of my skull from the inside. 

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar and the morning light cut through the half-closed blinds in the corner.

A face stared down at me.

Immensely handsome, dark hair, sharp jaw. The kind of face that belonged on billboards and sports magazines.

“Am I in heaven?” I croaked, my voice sounding like I had swallowed stone. 

“Oh, trust me,” The man said, his voice low and lethal. “You’re in hell.”

I blinked my eyes rapidly, trying to completely make out the face.

My pulse spiked.

Kyle, captain of the hockey team, the last person on earth I ever wanted to see me like this—looked at me with a disgusted expression on his face.

How did I even get here?

Reality slammed into me so hard I almost blacked out again. The last thing I remembered was the bar—

Oh shit.

What the fuck had I done now?

I sat up so fast the room spun. My dress was still on, thank God, but it was wrinkled and twisted and there was a suspicious stain on the hem. 

Kyle's gaze was fixed on me, his face contracted into a frown.

My mouth was dry and my heart was trying to climb out of my throat. 

The full horror of the previous day—Mason, Bianca, the videos—crashed back over me at the exact same moment I realized I had no idea how I had ended up here.

I looked at him, at the rigid set of his shoulders and the look in his eyes, my heart beating hard and fast.

“Did you fuck me?”