Chapter 147: Chapter 147
Lyra
Next Morning
The next day ca way too fast, and I was supposed to start school. And honestly? I wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t even close to ready. But phew this is the last grade. I woke up to the annoying beeping of my alarm and stared at the ceiling for a full five minutes, wondering if there was any possible way to fake my own death and skip this day entirely.
My chest felt heavy, my body still sore in places I didn’t even know could get sore, and my brain was screaming
"Nope" before I’d even gotten out of bed. I just lay there, tangled in sheets that still slled like sweat, sex, and Damon, trying to gather the strength to function like a normal teenager and not a freshly-ruined, emotionally unstable little whore who got her world rocked the night before.
To make things worse, my mum sent
a fucking email. Not a simple "Good luck" text or a cute voice note. No. An actual long-ass email.
The kind with a motivational quote and emojis and a paragraph talking about how proud she was of .
She said she hoped I’d learn a lot, stay focused, and be strong in my "young woman journey." I almost laughed.
Actually, no, I did laugh. Out loud. Because if only she knew that her daughter had spent the entire night being pinned, choked, knotted, and fucked half to death by her best friend’s father, she would’ve sent a damn priest, not a prayer-filled email.
Do I want to go to school today? No. Not even a little. Not even a tiny, delusional part of
is excited about walking into that building.
And the reason is very simple. Tasha. Tasha goes to that school. She’s not just in the school — she’s in my class.And yeah she fucked my ex. So we are it best friends anymore.
Co to think of it, I’ll have to sit in the sa room with her, see her face, hear her talk, and pretend like I didn’t just moan her father’s na until I lost my voice.
I’ll have to act normal, like I didn’t spend last night with my legs in the air and my throat being fucked and my mind being turned inside out by the man who gave her life.
And the idea of sitting in that classroom, just a few feet away from her, while my pussy still twitches at the thought of what he did to , is actually making
nauseous.
But I have to go. I don’t have a choice. I can’t avoid her forever, and I can’t exactly tell the school counselor,
"Sorry I can’t attend today, I got dicked down by my best friend’s dad and I’m still emotionally unstable." So I’m going. Reluctantly. Slowly. Dragging my ass out of bed like I’m headed to my own execution.
But here’s the twist. Despite everything — despite the dread and the awkwardness and the Tasha of it all — I’m actually in a good mood this morning. I know that makes zero sense.
You’re probably thinking I’ve lost it, and maybe I have. But the truth is, I woke up with a little smile on my lips. Because last night? Damon fucked the hell out of .
No, seriously. I don’t just an it was good. I an it was life-altering. Back-breaking. Soul-shaking. I’m-still-seeing-stars kind of sex.
He took
to hell and heaven and left
sowhere in between, tied up, crying, and begging for more.
My body is still throbbing in the best way possible. My thighs are still sticky with dried slick. My entire existence has been rearranged, and I don’t even regret it.
So yeah, school sucks. Tasha is going to be there. I’m going to be stressed out, uncomfortable, and probably unable to make eye contact with anyone for more than three seconds without blushing.
But at the sa ti, I feel powerful. I feel chosen. I feel like I’ve been claid in the dirtiest, most delicious way imaginable. I was the one he kissed. I was the one he tied up. I was the one he filled, over and over again, until my body forgot how to breathe.
He didn’t touch her. He didn’t even look at her the way he looked at .
And maybe that’s wrong. Maybe that’s delusional. Maybe I’m a little too cocky right now. But I don’t care. Because while his fancy, lip-gloss-wearing, rehab-returning wife was downstairs pretending like she still mattered, I was the one moaning into a pillow, getting eaten out like it was his last al.
I was the one with his tongue on my clit, his hands holding my thighs open, his voice calling
kitten like I was sothing holy. And that? That’s enough to get
through a hundred awkward school days.
So I’ll go. I’ll walk through those school gates with my head held high, my pussy still aching, and my heart beating just a little faster.
I was halfway down the stairs, trying to walk like a normal person and not soone who had been split open and stretched wide for hours.
My thighs still ached with every step, my skirt felt too tight against my ass, and the last thing I needed this morning was so kind of soap opera encounter before breakfast.
But of course, the universe hates .
Because the mont I reached the bottom step, I saw her.
Camilla.
Standing right there in the kitchen like she fucking lived here. Which she did, technically, but still. It felt wrong. She was wearing tiny shorts. I an tiny. Like bend-over-and-I’ll-see-your-womb kind of shorts.
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