The Vampire's Dirty Little Nerd

Ivy

My throat felt tight, the sound barely escaping me.

“Have you… put it in?”

The words cracked, trembling out of me like they were too fragile to be spoken. I was lying there, naked except for my thick black-rimmed glasses, under the weight of the boy I’d been secretly in love with for years.

Jaxon.

God, even his name sounded like trouble. The golden boy of campus. Hockey captain. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, hair that always fell effortlessly into place like some commercial. He was the boy girls whispered about in locker rooms. The boy I never thought would even look at me, not when I was the nerd who hid behind thick lenses and over-washed cardigans.

But now, here he was, half-dressed, trousers hanging low on his hips, the room spinning with the sour, heavy scent of alcohol clinging to his breath. His weight hovered over me, warm and too close.

And here I was, completely bare, heart beating like it was about to break through my chest.

This was it. The plan. My only chance to lose my virginity to someone like him. Sober Jaxon would never have touched me. But drunk Jaxon… I thought maybe, just maybe…he would.

His fingers fumbled with his waistband, brow furrowing as though reality was slipping its way back into him. “I… I can’t,” he mumbled, voice thick and uncertain.

Panic slammed into my chest so hard I almost gasped. My hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist. My fingers shook, but I forced my voice steady, pleading. “Let’s do this,” I whispered. My eyes begged him to want me. Just this once.

And then his eyes finally focused. Really focused.

The drunken haze in his gaze shattered, and what replaced it wasn’t lust. It wasn’t desire. It was shock. Disgust. His lips curled back, eyes widening as if he was staring at something revolting.

“What the hell—how did you even get in here?!” he barked, shoving me back like I burned him.

His voice sliced through me, clean and brutal.

I froze. The air thickened around me. My cheeks burned with hot shame as my stomach plummeted like a rock dropped in a well.

My arms scrambled to cover myself, but there was nothing.

He yanked his trousers back up with a clumsy jerk, muttering curses under his breath. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. My own heartbeat roared in my ears like a siren.

And then I ran.

Bare feet slapping against the cold floor, body shaking, lungs burning. The world blurred. My tears blurred the hallway lights as I burst out into the night.

What the hell did I just do?

I was insane. Pathetic. Stupid.

This wasn’t just about Jaxon. It wasn’t just about sex. It was about dying. About not wanting to leave this world untouched. The doctors said I had a month. A month before the sickness chewing at my insides would win.

The dull patches on my skin. The sunken look. The glasses I wore to hide behind, none of it was something makeup could fix.

There was no cure. No future.

Maybe that’s why I did it. Because I didn’t want to die a virgin. Because this, this disaster, was supposed to be my moment.

Rosa, my best friend, had whispered the plan like a dare. She said Jaxon would be in that “sex room” tonight. The place where girls lined up for him like he was some kind of god. He never slept with anyone twice, everyone knew that. But I didn’t want twice. I just wanted once. A single, fleeting moment.

Instead, I got humiliation branded into my skin.

“Boo!”

I screamed, spinning around so fast my glasses nearly flew off.

Rosa was leaning against the wall, grinning ear to ear like she’d just watched a comedy.

“Jesus Christ,” I hissed, clutching my chest. “Do you want to kill me?”

Her grin only widened. She folded her arms, her whole body practically vibrating with laughter. “So? Did you? Did you finally break it?”

My throat locked. No words came. I just brushed past her, my jaw tight, shame burning so deep I could barely walk straight.

She followed, her laughter trailing behind me like sharp needles pricking my back. Rosa was beautiful, effortlessly beautiful. Glowing skin, soft curves, the kind of girl who never had to try to be wanted. She had already lost hers ages ago, with a boy who adored her. She reminded me of it every damn day.

I was the opposite. The sick girl. The quiet one. The one with no time.

By the time we got back to her house, where I’d been staying since my parents flew off for another “business trip”—I collapsed onto her bed. The ceiling stared back blankly as I lay there, tears biting at the corners of my eyes.

Sleep didn’t come. My mind replayed everything over and over like a cruel reel.

I shoved the blanket off, dragged myself to the kitchen, and grabbed a glass of water. My hands shook around it.

“I hate this,” I muttered, my voice breaking. “I hate everything.”

I shoved my glasses up the bridge of my nose, trying to keep myself from crying. But that’s when I heard it.

“Papi… keep going…”

The soft moan froze me mid-step. My head snapped toward the hallway.

No. No way.

My heart hammered against my ribs as my feet moved on their own, quiet, careful. The door to Rosa’s father’s room wasn’t fully closed.

I should’ve walked away. I should’ve.

But curiosity snaked its way through me, sharp and hot.

I nudged the door open, just a little.

And then I saw him.

Mr. Dante. Rosa’s father. Shirt off. Hands gripping Mrs. Tessa…the woman who had walked in earlier that day with glossy lips, a floral dress, and a voice like honey. I’d thought she was pretty. But now, with her legs spread and her head thrown back in pleasure, she looked… otherworldly.

He was behind her, thrusting into her like he owned her. Like the world belonged to him.

My breath hitched.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound. My heart was beating so fast I swore it might give out.

I should’ve backed away. God, I should’ve run.

But I didn’t.

I stayed frozen, watching through that tiny crack.

Her voice broke into a moan that melted into a scream. “I’m coming!”

Heat flooded my face, crawling down my neck. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away.

He groaned, low and rough, his pace quickening. And then, he pulled out.

And I saw him.

Every inch of him.

My lips parted. My heart slammed against my ribs. His cock was thick, veined, glistening. My thighs pressed together involuntarily, shame and heat tangling together inside me.

What is wrong with me?

Why did I want him? Why did this feel… electric?

Rosa’s dad. My best friend’s father.

And yet, my body reacted like it didn’t care.

He slid back into Mrs. Tessa, and the sound filled the room, wet, rhythmic, filthy. Clap. Clap. Clap. Her moans tangled with his grunts, raw and primal.

My breathing turned shallow. My fingers dug into the wall for balance as warmth pooled between my thighs. Images I didn’t ask for burned into my head, his hands on me. His voice against my ear.

When he grabbed her hair and shoved himself into her mouth, thrusting deep, something inside me snapped.

I came.

Just from watching him.

The wave hit me hard, leaving my knees weak and my chest rising and falling too fast. Shame and euphoria crashed into each other inside me. I leaned against the wall, dizzy.

And then… he turned.

His head shifted slightly, eyes narrowing, like he felt me there.

My breath caught. My legs locked.

“I think someone’s outside,” his voice growled, deep and dark.

He pulled himself free from her mouth, stepping closer to the door. The sound of his footsteps grew louder, heavier.

My blood ran cold.

Every instinct screamed at me to move, to run, but I was rooted to the floor, caught between fear and whatever sinful, stupid thing had just happened to my body.

And then his voice came, sharp and commanding—

“Who’s there?”