جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 70

[Lena’s POV]“You feel so good tonight,” Marcus says, his mouth brushing my ear, voice low and a little husky.I turn my face toward him just enough. “You always say that.”“Because you always do.” He keeps moving slow, deep slides that never change pace. “Tell me you like it.”“I like it,” I whisper, tightening my legs around his waist.“More than that.” His hand slips under my back, pulling me closer. “Tell me you love feeling me inside you.”“I love feeling you inside me,” I say, letting the words come out soft and breathy the way he wants.He groans quietly. “Fuck, Lena. You’re killing me.”I smile in the dark and start counting in my head, the way I’ve done for longer than I want to admit. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. His rhythm is so steady I could set a clock to it. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. I clench around him once, just enough to make him think I’m close too.“You getting there?” he asks, breath catching.“Yes,” I lie. “ don’t stop. I love how you feel when you’re close.”Twenty-

Marcus started acting weird in the sweetest way at first. He brought home flowers I didn’t ask for, cooked dinner with candles, rubbed my feet while we watched TV, bought me lingerie, a black lace bra and thong set with garters. The kind of stuff he used to buy when we were dating, but I never wore it for him because sex with him felt like a chore. Now he would lay the box on the bed, look at me hopeful, and say, “Try it on, baby. I want to see you in it.”I did once. Posed for him. Felt ridiculous. He fucked me slow and gentle, whispering, “You’re so beautiful,” “I love you,” over and over. I faked the moans, loud and dramatic, clenched around him until he came quick, and held me after like I was the center of his world. Guilt chewed at me every time, but I pushed it down, told myself it was just one more lie on the pile.Then one night after dinner, he sat me on the couch, poured wine, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “I know, Lena. I know everything.”My stomach dropped so fast

After that first night in our bed everything shifted into something regular, almost routine. Twice a month Martins would text me a day or two ahead. “Friday 8 pm. Bring your A game slut.” I’d read it while Marcus was in the shower or making dinner and feel the familiar heat bloom low in my belly. I’d reply “Yes sir” or sometimes just a dripping emoji and then spend the next forty-eight hours wet and distracted. Marcus noticed. He always noticed now. He’d catch me staring off during dinner and ask soft “You thinking about him?” I’d nod bite my lip and he’d get hard under the table without another word.The first time Martins brought someone else it was this tall quiet guy named Jide. Martins walked through the door slapped my ass hard enough to make me yelp and said “Living room tonight strip and get on your knees.” I obeyed fast dropped my robe hit the floor in front of the couch. Jide stood there awkward at first until Martins pushed his head down and said “Suck him like the whore yo

I barely made it through the back door before he was on me, my stepbrother already waiting in the dim kitchen light like he’d been counting the seconds until I got home, and the moment our eyes met he didn’t speak—he just lunged forward, hands clamping around my waist and hauling me up onto the island counter so fast my skirt rode up and my thighs parted instinctively around his hips while his mouth slammed into mine, all teeth and tongue and desperate need that tasted like he’d been starving for this since the last time we risked it.“Oh fuck—yes,” I gasped into his mouth when he ripped my blouse open, buttons flying somewhere across the tile, and his rough palms shoved my bra up so my breasts spilled out for him to devour, his lips closing around one stiff nipple and sucking hard enough that my back arched off the granite and a sharp, needy whimper tore out of my throat. “Harder—please—suck it harder.”He growled against my skin, teeth grazing the sensitive peak as he switched to th

I woke up to my phone screaming, notifications still going off like bombs. The photo had hit every group chat, every story, every subreddit tied to the university overnight. My name was everywhere, paired with words I never thought I’d see next to it. Slut. Attention seeker. Coach’s side piece. I wanted to throw my phone across the room.Instead, I dragged myself to the mirror. My eyes were puffy, my hair a mess. I looked like someone who hadn’t slept. I looked like someone who was about to fake date the man she hated most.Jax texted at eight sharp.“Game tonight, 7pm. Stands, section C, row 3. I left a hoodie for you at the ticket office. Wear it.”I stared at the message, hated how bossy it sounded, hated more that my stomach flipped reading it.I typed back, “I’m not your Barbie doll.”He replied instantly, “You’re my fake girlfriend for the next few weeks, Barbie. Wear the hoodie or people will think you hate me more than usual.”I wanted to reply something cutting, but I didn’t