บททั้งหมดของ Noiseless Wet Dreams of You: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

 "Uhm... Yuna..." He started, the name stumbling off his tongue with jagged edges. He looked awkward, a version of Jake I had never seen. The man who could command a boardroom of billionaires or a stadium of fans was suddenly faltering in the dim light of my bedroom. My heart hammered against my ribs. Was I right? Was I actually his temptation? Was he finally realizing that the masterpiece he’d been designing wasn't for the world to see, but for him to possess? A dizzying rush of hope flooded my veins. If Drake was right, if they divorced... I could be the one in that master suite. I could be the one he drove into until the world turned white. I would gladly give my virginity to him, right here, right now on the very bed where I had just been imagining his face. 

  "You’re going to be the death of me, Hollander," I whispered into the phone, a small, forced smile playing on my lips. "If I am, at least it’ll be a headline-worthy exit," he teased. "See you at seven, Aubrey. Wear something that makes me remember why I’m the luckiest guy in the country." I hung up on Brendan and let the silence of my room settle over me like dust. Seven o’clock. The countdown had started. But the silence was too loud, too heavy with the memory of Jake’s voice from the night before, so I did what any girl in my position would do to keep from losing her mind. I opened my group chat. Sera: BITCH FINALLY. THE KISS. THE RED DRESS. I AM DECEASED. 

"Everything is clearly not leading toward breaking up with Brendan. Okay? Stop butting into my affairs. We are okay. This is just a fan threat and nothing more," I threw the words over my shoulder like a shield, hating the way Drake’s voice sounded, that low, knowing gravel that made me feel like I was walking into a trap I’d set myself. I didn't wait for his rebuttal. I disappeared into the cool, dark sanctuary of the house, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm on the marble.But the silence of the foyer offered no peace. Every shadow seemed to stretch into the shape of the man in the archives following the man who had left, running away from me. I tried to call him but he wasn't even going to take my calls. By seven o'clock, the house had been transformed into a stage. My mother had the staff light the silver candelabras, their flickering flames reflecting off the polished mahogany of the dining table. The scent of the pan-seared sea bass, seasoned with lemon and capers, wafted throug

The video on my laptop screen was a glitchy, chaotic mess of pixels and muffled audio, a digital riddle I couldn’t solve no matter how many times I hit replay. My fingers hovered over the keys, typing a frantic message to the anonymous sender, but the silence on the other end was deafening. Five minutes. Ten. The cursor blinked like a mocking heartbeat until the door groaned open.Drake didn’t knock. He never did. He just barged in, his presence filling the room with an agitated energy that made the air feel thin."Brendan’s leaving," he said shortly.I turned in my swivel chair, forcing a smirk to hide the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. "And when did you become my personal messenger?" I asked, my voice laced with a practiced nonchalance as I stylishly snapped my laptop shut. "Why didn't he come tell me that himself? You had to be the one to deliver the news."Drake shrugged, leaning against the doorframe with a look that was far too composed for my liking. "Well... because

  He didn't stop. He worked his way deeper, his hands gripping my hips with a punishing strength, bruising the skin as he pulled me closer to his face. I was drowning in it, the sensation, the heat, the sheer, forbidden wrongness of it all. The soundproofed walls of Drake’s room felt like they were shrinking, pressing the air out of my lungs until all I could breathe was the scent of our combined arousal and the heavy, metallic tang of desire. I closed my eyes, the darkness behind my lids becoming a canvas for my obsession. I began to manifest a ghost. I imagined Jake crawling in between my legs, his broad shoulders filling the space between my knees. I pictured his rough, calloused hands, not Drake’s, anchoring my thighs. In my mind, it was Jake’s tongue buried into my core as if it were the only thing he could do in his life. Like my body was his