And Tasha?
Tasha was standing there, sweat glowing on her skin, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, and her eyes locked onto me like I was something she’d stepped in.
“Lyra?!”
Her voice cut through me like a lash.
It didn’t sound like a best friend’s voice.
It didn’t sound like concern.
It sounded like accusation.
It sounded like hate.
Like I’d violated something sacred.
Like I was the disgusting one.
I blinked, my vision blurry. My heart was thudding so violently I could hear it in my ears, louder than her moans, louder than the slaps of skin still echoing from minutes ago.
I tried to cover myself, but my hands were shaking too hard. The robe was twisted around my body like a trap. My thigh was exposed, glistening. My n*****s were stiff and visible under the thin silk, and I could still feel the slick between my legs pooling, warm and wet and incriminating.
She saw.
Of course she f*****g saw.
Her eyes ran over every inch of me, slow and deliberate, like she was cataloging every ounce of filth she could find on my skin.
And she didn’t even look surprised.
She looked like she expected it.
Like she already knew how disgusting I was.
“What the f**k are you doing?” she snapped, grabbing a towel off the counter and wrapping it around her bare body with zero shame, t**s still bouncing, her p***y still glistening between her thighs.
“Were you just standing there watching me get f****d like some kind of pervert?”
“No,”
I whispered. My voice was paper-thin. Pathetic.
“I didn’t mean to…”
“Didn’t mean to?” she barked.
“Then what, Lyra? What the f**k were you doing standing there in the dark with your robe open and your thighs soaking wet? What were you waiting for, huh? Your turn?”
My breath caught in my throat.
I wanted to speak.
I wanted to deny it.
But I couldn’t.
Because she was right.
I had watched.
I had stood there, dripping down my legs, my fingers twitching like I wanted to touch myself again just from the sounds. Just from the way the Beta slammed into her. Just from the way she moaned.
But she didn’t know the worst part.
She didn’t know that it wasn’t the Beta I was imagining.
That the c**k in my fantasies wasn’t his.
It was his.
Damon.
“You’re f*****g disgusting,” she spat.
“I saw your face, Lyra. You looked like you were gonna cream yourself just watching us.”
Her words slapped me harder than any hand ever could.
I wanted to shrink into the floor.
I wanted to disappear.
But my cunt was still pulsing.
Still aching.
Still betraying me.
And she wasn’t done.
“You want him, don’t you?” she said, her voice lower now.
“You want the guard. That’s why you stood there dripping on the floor like a little b***h in heat. You wanted him to see you. You wanted him to stop f*****g me and bend you over that f*****g counter.”
I swallowed hard.
The truth twisted behind my teeth.
No.
Not him.
Never him.
But her eyes saw something else.
And she hated it.
“You wanted him to grab you by your hair,” she said, voice curling with poison.
“To shove his c**k inside you so deep you forgot your own name. You wanted him to f**k you stupid while I watched, huh? You sick little freak.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
The tears came before I could stop them.
But they weren’t just tears of humiliation.
They were tears of heat.
Of pain.
Of need.
Because even now..especially now..I still wanted it.
But not from the man she thought.
I wanted to be bent over.
Split open. f****d senseless.
But not by some Beta.
Not by a soldier.
By the man who ruined my mind just by walking past me. The man whose voice left me wet for hours. The one who hadn’t even touched me and still made me break.
Damon.
Alpha.
Daddy.
But she didn’t know.
She crouched low, eye to eye with me, her breath hot in my skin.
“Don’t you f*****g dare tell anyone what you saw,” she hissed.
“Especially not about me and the guard.”
“If you even breathe a word, Lyra,” she said, her voice sharp as glass, “I’ll tell everyone what you looked like when I caught you. The way your thighs were shaking. The mess between your legs. The f*****g look in your eyes. Like you were begging to be f****d next.”
My cheeks burned so hot they could’ve blistered.
But she wasn’t wrong.
Because I had been begging.
Silently.
Shamelessly.
Late Nights Heaten
For something darker.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.