Chapter 12: Ripped By My Roommate’s Dad(12)

“He recorded you,” she whispered. “He’s been recording you.”

I froze.

Like completely. My blood just stopped. Like my lungs didn’t know how to move anymore. Like every single part of my body turned to ice and heat at the same time, burning and freezing in the same breath. Because what the actual fuck? What did she just say? He what?

“He’s been recording you.”

That was what she said. And I didn’t need her to say it again because my brain was already spiraling, already connecting all the dots I’d been too naive, too blind, too stupid to see.

He had been watching. From the beginning. From the first night I stayed over. From that moment I shut the guest room door and peeled off my bra and didn’t even realize the mirror was tilted. From the way I bent over in that tiny towel.

From the way I danced around when I thought no one was looking. From that stupid night I slept without panties because my period cramps were too bad and I thought the sheets felt nice. He saw everything. He had everything.

And all I could think—fucked-up, filthy, disgusting little me—was why the fuck does that make me so wet?

I should have screamed. I should have run. I should have packed my bag, blocked him, deleted every memory of this house from my mind, and called my mom to come get me.

But I didn’t. Because I heard Kayla’s footsteps, loud and angry, stomping down the hallway like a goddamn thunderstorm, and I couldn’t ignore that. Something about the way she moved—like the whole world was about to collapse—pulled me right out of the bed and made me follow her barefoot and stupid and guilty as hell.

She didn’t knock.

She didn’t pause.

She didn’t even breathe before she shoved that door open like she was ready to kill someone. And maybe she was. The sound of it hitting the wall made the whole hallway shake. I swear the pictures on the wall actually tilted, and I stood there wearing nothing but Dean’s shirt—his fucking shirt—and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even blink. I just pressed myself against the wall, like maybe if I stayed still enough the house would forget I was there.

And then I heard her voice.

“Fucking bastards.”

And that’s when I knew it wasn’t just a fight. It wasn’t just some overreaction. It was me. She was talking about me. I was the betrayal. I was the fucking wound that broke everything open.

She screamed, “What the fuck, Dad!”

And I could feel my knees go weak. My chest started tightening. My stomach twisted so hard I nearly threw up right there. My hands were trembling. My eyes burned. And all I wanted was to melt into the floor and disappear.

He didn’t say a word.

Of course he didn’t.

Because he never spoke until he wanted you to bleed.

And I could picture his face—calm, cold, that quiet evil that lived in his smirk. The way he looked at you like he was already two steps ahead, already pulling your strings while you thought you were making your own choices. The way he looked at me that first night. Before he even touched me.

She was furious. I heard something slam against the desk. Maybe a book. Maybe the paperweight. I don’t know. But it was loud. Sharp. Violent.

“You put a fucking camera in the guest room?” she screamed. “You watched her? Are you insane? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

And still—nothing.

Just silence.

The kind of silence that suffocates you. The kind of silence that isn’t empty. It’s full. It’s watching. Waiting. Calculating what piece of you to break next.

“She’s eighteen, Dad,” Kayla said. “Eighteen. She trusted you. I trusted you.”

Then he spoke.

And it was like a dagger in my spine.

“I never asked her to trust me,” he said.

No emotion. No shame. Just facts.

“I never told you to trust me either.”

Kayla’s voice cracked. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous tone that always made my legs shake, “you brought a dripping wet, pantyless virgin into my house, Kayla. You left her unsupervised. You let her walk around in shorts that didn’t even cover her ass and tank tops so tight they screamed ‘fuck me.’ So don’t act surprised when I did what I do.”

I almost screamed. But not out of fear.

Out of something worse.

Need.

I wanted to die and moan at the same time.

He said it like he owned the words. Like he owned me. And the worst part? I couldn’t stop touching my belly. I pressed my palm to it like maybe if I held it hard enough, I’d wake up from this nightmare. But I didn’t want to wake up. Because it wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Every inch of it. Every inch of him.

Then Kayla dropped the bomb.

“You got her pregnant, Dad.”

I swear I didn’t even hear the rest.

The world just…stopped.

No sound. No air. No movement. Just those words echoing in my head until I couldn’t tell where my body ended and the shame began.

And then—

“I know,” he said. “And I’m not sorry.”

That’s when I broke.

Because that was it.

He wasn’t sorry.

Not for watching. Not for touching. Not for fucking. Not for coming inside me and marking me from the inside out. Not for ruining me. Not for making me his.

He wasn’t sorry.

And I came.

I swear to God, I actually clenched so hard I felt it. Not loud. Not messy. Just a quiet, shameful, devastating release that made my legs shake and my soul shatter all over again.

I pushed the door open.

Slowly.

Quietly.

And everything stopped.

They both turned. Kayla looked like the apocalypse. Eyes red, lips trembling, hands ready to slap the universe. But Dean?

Dean looked at me like the sun had just walked into the room.

He looked at me like I was the only thing he wanted to touch again.

“Maya,” he said.

That was it.

Just my name.

And I felt it between my legs.

Kayla turned to me with horror in her face. “No. Don’t. Don’t you dare look at him like that. He’s my dad.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I whispered. “It just—”

“She’s mine,” Dean said, cutting me off, voice low, deep, full of something so possessive it made my knees wobble. “Now and forever. This isn’t your business anymore.”

“Not my business?” Kayla screamed. “She’s my best friend! You’re my father! You put a fucking camera in my room and impregnated my roommate and it’s not my business?”

He stood.

Slow.

Like a predator.

And he didn’t even glance at her. He walked straight to me. Past the daughter. Past the guilt. Straight to the girl he broke. The girl who let him. The girl who still wanted him.

His hand went to my stomach.

Just like that.

Flat. Warm. Possessive.

And I didn’t flinch.

I leaned into it.

Because it was the only thing that felt real.

Because it was the only thing that was real.

Because I was already his.

He looked into my eyes. Deep. Burning. Starving.

And then he said it.

“Get on your knees, kitten.”

And I did.

Right there.

In front of Kayla.

In front of the blinking camera.

In front of God.

Because I wasn’t just his. I was his forever.

And I didn’t care who knew.