Trigger warnings specific to Part 1: Dubious consent, high school bullying, humiliation, and degradation.

Trigger warnings for the short story as a whole: Non-consent, blackmail, revenge porn, dubious consent, high school bullying, humiliation, degradation, and a forced D/s dynamic.

About this story: Hello! This is Part 1 of a short story I'm working on. I've already written the first few parts, and I'll post them somewhat regularly with some space between each. This is a plot heavy story, meaning that there's a lot of focus on characters and character development, but with plenty of smut, too. If you've read my other short story, The White Rose, then you can expect a similar experience here.

If you like this story and want to read more, you can find a list of all my stories here!💜 You can also find a list of the parts of this story whenever they are published.🥰

Eight years ago

Cole, age 18

She’s so beautiful it hurts. It hurts to look at her. It hurts to look away. All I want is for the pain to go away, but that’s all I can feel when I think about her. When I simply breathe in the same room as her, her flowery perfume overwhelms my senses. When I hear her sweet, angelic voice in my ears, I swear I feel blood rushing to between my legs.

Am I a creep? Probably, but thinking about Poppy Eaton is the closest I can get to making her mine.

The way her blonde ponytail swings around just a second after she turns her head. The way those long legs go on for miles before ending somewhere beneath her little skirt. I’ve thought about all the ways I could ruin her, if only she’d let me. But I’m not stupid.

I know she hates me. And her boyfriend, Brendan, can’t stand me either. How am I so sure? Well, any time I get a chance to look at Poppy is usually a few seconds before one of them throws an insult after me.

I don’t have a chance with her, I know. Not only am I being a creep, but I’m lanky as anything. I’m thin but somehow extremely tall. And I can’t grow a beard for shit, instead having a scruffy stubble covering parts of my face. I know I’m not her type, not with how huge her boyfriend is. He’s not as tall as me, but he’s muscular, and could easily beat me in a fight.

And I only realise I’ve been caught staring at Poppy for five minutes when her eyes meet mine. She’s pinned between Brendan and her locker, and I thought I was safe since his arm was blocking her line of sight. But then he moved his hand to scratch his jaw, and Poppy immediately looked at me, face contorting in disgust upon catching me staring at her.

“What do you want, Cole?” she asks with a frustrated voice.

I start to walk away when I see Brendan turning around, but his bark stops me in my tracks. “Keep moving, Beckett.”

I do as he says, but I don’t miss Poppy’s muttered, “God, he’s such a creep,” as I go.

I know I’m being a creep, staring at her like this, but I can’t help it. All I want is her. I’m obsessed with her, to such a degree that I know it’s close to unhinged.

But I don’t even feel bad. And maybe one day I’ll make her mine. Maybe one day I’ll see what she’s hiding beneath that mask she wears. But I know she won’t choose me.

She never will.

Now

Poppy, age 26

“Ava, I am not wearing this.” I place my hands on my hips as I look at my figure in the mirror. “I just know you’ll be able to see my ass if I bend over.”

“And?” my best friend replies with a casual shrug. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

I turn to face her. She’s wearing an innocent expression, one that says, you know I’m right. “No! It is not!”

“Whatever,” she waves me away. “You look hot and you need some action anyway, Poppy. When’s the last time?”

“It’s been…a while,” I grumble. Okay, so it’s been almost a year since I got laid, but it’s not like I miss it anyway. Mediocre sex with men who don’t know what a clit is and think PIV sex is the best thing since grilled cheese is not exactly a great time.

And besides, do men vibrate? I didn’t think so.

Ava stands, then grips my shoulders. “You look gorgeous, babe.” She kisses my cheeks. “Any guy you may or may not go home with tonight would be a lucky fucker.” I let out a quiet laugh. “Hell, I’d fuck you if I had a dick.”

I give her a glare, even as I’m smiling. “I’m sure you would, Ava.”

“If you don’t want to wear the dress, you don’t have to. But you look beautiful, and I think you should try it.”

“Fine,” I mumble, but I do want to wear it, I realise. It’s a gorgeous red bodycon dress, barely covering my ass, like I said. It’s strapless, leaving my shoulders bare and making my cleavage look spectacular.

Ava gives me a little pat on my butt, then skips over to grab our shoes, returning with two pairs of heels. Ava is truly intimidating in high heels, as she’s already a pretty tall girl. Gorgeous too, with silver hair falling to her waist and a slim figure.

She’s a smart girl too, so she knows how to wield her beauty like a weapon. Truly, being on her bad side is not something I’d wish on anyone.

I met Ava in college when I began studying to become a teacher. She studied something completely different. Something about biology. Yes, I’ve asked. No, I still don’t understand what the hell she actually does, even years later.

We were assigned as roommates in our tiny little dorm. I’d had a tough time in high school, and to be honest, I was a social recluse when I first started college. I’d escaped to Seattle, a completely different part of the state, the second I could. A little while later, I met Ava, a complete social butterfly, and she made it her personal mission to break me out of my shell and get as many dicks inside my vagina as possible.

She did succeed. Somewhat. Okay, so she did hook me up with the first guy I’ve slept with since Brendan, the boy I dated in high school. It was fine, mostly, and to be honest it felt good to finally feel normal again after what happened at the end of my senior year.

But I still didn’t enjoy sleeping with random men. Like I said, I’ve yet to meet a man that vibrates, and I’m not holding out hope for that anymore.

And even though I still feel anxious in crowds and nervous about meeting new people, Ava has been amazing with helping me get out and meet people. That’s why I didn’t hesitate for long when she invited me to this party tonight. I know she’ll keep an eye out for me, which makes it easier.

After slipping on our heels, I hook an arm through Ava’s. “Do you know the guy who invited us?” she asks me.

“No, I don’t.” She didn’t tell me, only that his face is at least an 8 out of 10 on the sitability scale. She invented the scale, and I still don’t get the rules.

“His name is Jay,” she explains, leading me out the door. “Loaded, apparently. His house is huge, and he’s invited, like, a million people to the party.”

“Why did he invite me, though?”

She doesn’t hesitate, like she was hoping I’d ask. “Because I told him you’re hot and have cobwebs in your vagina.”

I groan. “Ava! You did not!” Okay, it’s been a while, but cobwebs? If ever there was a way to gross a guy out.

She just snickers. “His friend was hot too, you know. At least a 7 out of 10.” She doesn’t have to tell me how she judged him. “Big beard,” she says as she wags her eyebrows suggestively. “Huge too. Like, at least 6’5. Super muscular. I’d go for him myself if it wouldn’t be rude to Jay.”

“Don’t tell me,” I say.

“What? If I set you two up?” I nod. “No, no. I just showed him a picture of you, and he got, like, all stupefied. I swear he didn’t blink for a good five minutes while he stared at your photo. All I’m saying is the guy seemed into you, if you wanna give it a shot.”

Maybe I do. But God knows I need a few drinks first.

Ava was right. Whoever Jay is, he must be rich as hell.

His house is massive, sitting in a gated community. It’s surrounded by an equally massive garden, currently littered with people and discarded beer bottles. The porch is also covered with people and trash of all sorts. There are more windows than I could count, all throughout the four-story building.

Once we make it inside, my breath catches. The entrance is as large as my entire apartment, and the big living room beyond is several times that. It’s connected to several adjoining rooms, including a kitchen, where Ava is currently dragging me off to.

“What will it be, miss?” she asks me, grabbing two cups for us. I go to answer, but she starts pouring beers for both of us.

“Thanks,” I say when she hands my cup to me. “Where is your friend, anyway?”

“Should be around here somewhere,” she says, glancing around a little. “But I don’t want him to see us sober, girl. Drink up.”

I do as she says, and we spend the next hour drinking until I feel a comfortable buzz in my veins. We talk to a few people, but Ava keeps looking around for Jay.

“Doesn’t he live here?” I ask. “Shouldn’t be that hard to find.”

Ava hurries to finish her sip, then points to a man approaching us. “Speak of the devil,” she says and wraps herself around the man’s chest.

In her heels, Ava is just two or three inches shorter than the man. He has dirty blonde hair and a faint tan. His arms and chest bulge a little in the fitted shirt he wears, like it was moulded onto his skin, and when his gaze slides to me, his grin is nearly infectious.

“Who’s your friend, Ava?” he asks.

“I told you. This is Poppy.” She slides over to my side, looping an arm through mine. “And she is very single.”

I groan, and her friend pipes in, “So I’ve heard. Something about cobwebs, right?” He grins.

My eyes widen a little, because I genuinely thought she was joking. I hide my flushed face beneath my hands. “Oh my God. Please don’t listen to a word that comes out of Ava’s mouth.”

She scoffs, pretending to be offended. “Poppy, this is Jay.” She points between us. “Jay, Poppy.”

I extend a hand, which is quickly swallowed by his much larger one. “A pleasure,” he drawls, his eyes briefly glancing down to my chest. Despite how brazen and flirtatious he’s being, I don’t feel uncomfortable under his stare. He genuinely seems nice, and definitely like Ava’s type.

“Jay.” Another man approaches, and I quickly realise this must be the friend that Ava mentioned.

He’s a massive guy, with a full, black beard that matches his hair and big, muscled arms, just like Ava said. His outfit is all black, made up of a button-up shirt and skinny jeans, which hug his muscular thighs in a mouthwatering way.

And when his green eyes slide to mine, a grin forms on his face. I frown a little, because I swear I recognise those eyes, yet I can’t place it.

His voice too, I realise, sounds familiar. It’s sexy as hell, regardless, so maybe my brain is just tricking me into thinking this guy is safe.

But I know better. He could snap me in half. He probably has a foot on me height wise, and his forearm looks bigger than my thigh.

He’s truly intimidating, but then he turns to Jay and gives him one of those bro hugs men like to do, and suddenly he looks like the friendliest guy in the world.

“Hey, man!” Jay greets, clapping him on the back. “I was just talking to Ava and her friend.” Both their gazes slide to mine, waiting for me to introduce myself.

“I’m–“

“Poppy,” the man interrupts, and Ava squeals a little.

“You remember!” she exclaims, and I wince a little. I’d really, really, like to know what she told them about me, beyond the whole cobwebs story.

“Could never forget a face like that,” he drawls, oozing confidence. It quickens my pulse whenever he speaks.

Okay, fine, he’s attractive. Sue me for thinking Ava’s 7 out of 10 on the sitability scale is too low, because I’d kill to feel that beard between my legs. That mouth of his, formed into an easy grin as his eyes peruse up and down my body, looks so damn enticing I swear I feel shivers down my back at the image of kissing it.

“Hi,” I greet, extending my hand to his. Just like with Jay, my hand is swallowed up in his, but this one is more calloused. A little rougher around the edges.

Men’s hands are to women what legs are to men, I swear. Because I can’t keep my eyes from widening at the way his veins bulge, hidden beneath the few scars that litter his rough knuckles.

He must catch my perverted gaze, because when I look up again, he wears an expression that could melt my underwear right off.

I step back, stopping when my shoulder bumps into Ava’s arm. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because he never introduced himself.” Jay rolls his eyes. “Rude fucker,” he mutters, earning a backhand to the shoulder from his friend. “Poppy, this is–“

“Ah-ah,” he interrupts. “I can introduce myself to Poppy just fine, Jay. Thank you.” He looks to Ava. “Ava, why don’t you take Jay to another room before he says something he’ll regret.” His threat is told with a lazy smile, and I think my brain must’ve short circuited, because he looks a little impatient too. Maybe a little nervous?

Is he nervous about talking with me?

No, that can’t be it. I’m tiny, and he’s huge. What could he be nervous about with me?

“Of course,” Ava drawls with a wicked grin. She gives me one last look, one that says, Give me a play by play of all the ways he fucked you later.

Once Jay and Ava leave, the stranger comes up to me, standing so close I have to crane my neck at a nearly uncomfortable angle to look up at him. I feel his body heat, his heavy breaths, and I think he’s looking into my brain with how intense his eyes are.

“So, you’re Poppy, huh?” he asks, tilting his head.

“I am. And what about you, stranger?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t give my name that easily, Poppy. Jay should know better.”

I laugh, unable to help myself. “What, so you get my name, and I don’t get yours?”

He smiles in a way you do to a toddler who says they want to become an astronaut. “Tell you what,” he says, his hand coming up to tuck my hair behind my ear, which sends flutters through my abdomen. “You answer a few questions about yourself, and I might give you my name.”

I laugh again. “Is your name Gilbert or something? Is that why you’re so shy?”

“Not at all,” he purrs, and I actually believe him.

I sigh. “Fine, go ahead.” I give in because I can sense that he’s not going to give me his name if I don’t comply. He seems to thrive on being in control. I’d also be a liar if I said the mystery didn’t intrigue me a little.

“Good girl,” he whispers into my ear, then he pulls away, making me feel cold all over my body. He leans against the counter beside me. “Ava mentioned you’re a teacher?” he asks, taking a sip of his beer.

My eyes widen a little in surprise, because that’s usually not what most people first ask me when they meet me. “Uh, yeah, I am.”

He shakes his head a little, and he lets out a soundless laugh. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he responds. “Just a little…” He trails off, shaking his head again, like he’s clearing the thought from his mind. “Don’t worry about it. Why did you become a teacher?”

Now this question I’m used to, and I always give the same answer. “I had a pretty hard time in high school. You know, kids being mean and catty. Shitty boyfriends, that sort of thing.” I swear I catch him smirking a little, but it’s gone before I can be sure. “I wanted to be a teacher so I could make sure no one had to go through what I had to go through. And,” I point at him to defuse the tension, “I always enjoyed talking about and explaining topics I’m interested in.” I shrug. “It was always the natural fit for me.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, like he’s shocked by my answer, which is fair enough. After a minute, he asks, “Where do you teach, anyway?”

I tell him the high school I teach at, which sits somewhere on the other side of town. “I teach senior English.”

He whistles, his gaze perusing up and down my body, and I roll my eyes. “If you say one damn word about my senior boys being lucky to call me their teacher, I will seriously slap you across the mouth.” Being a young woman in high school is hard enough, but when I’m as short as I am and most of my seniors tower over me, it can be uncomfortable at times. I know I’m attractive too, something I hear about a lot during the year.

“Okay, okay.” He throws his arms up in surrender. “Can’t blame me though, can you?” I glare at him, and he winces a little. “You look gorgeous, is what I’m trying to say.”

I give him a smile, because he’s kind of cute when he’s nervous. Having this effect on a large, intimidating man like him is fun, even if he’s still a little scary. “You don’t look half bad, either, I suppose.”

He gives me a full smile from ear to ear. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

“Depends how big your ego is, I guess.”

“Ouch.” He places a hand on his heart, pretending like he’s hurt.

I laugh. “Okay, but what about you?” I turn to face him, placing an elbow on the counter. “What do you do?”

“I studied in New York for a while, then I began working as a financial adviser for a tech company. I came back to Seattle a month ago.”

“Are you from here? Seattle, I mean?”

“No.” He looks away, like he’s thinking. “I grew up in another part of the state, but I haven’t been there in years.”

“Oh,” I breathe. “Me too, actually. I moved here right after high school. Where did you grow up?”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, like I asked something stupid. “I thought I said I was going to ask about you, in exchange for my name.”

I smile and roll my eyes. “Well, excuse me for wanting to know more about the man behind that pretty face.”

He rubs his chin. God, I wish I could rub his chin instead, just to feel that beard between my fingers. “You think I have a pretty face?”

My cheeks heat a little. “I…Maybe.”

He moves closer, putting his cup away on the counter. His hands brace on the counter, caging me in, and he gives me an eyeful of his muscled chest. His mouth comes down to my ear, nipping it. “Don’t get shy on me, now.”

Shivers run down my spine at his deep, masculine voice. “I’m not,” I retort, voice trembling a little.

He tuts in my ear. “You sure aren’t. Not with that little dress of yours that’s just begging to be torn off.” He places a hand on my waist, searing my skin. His thumb plays a little with the material.

“How I dress has nothing to do with how shy I am,” I say.

He chuckles. “No, but shy girls don’t let strange men kiss them.”

“What are you–“ My words die in my throat when he slams his mouth into mine. We both moan against each other, and I open my mouth for him, letting him push his tongue inside me.

It’s a slow kiss, careful almost. He’s taking his time exploring my mouth with his tongue, like he wants to map it for later. His hands are gripping my waist almost possessively, and it feels like he’s branding my skin. The gorgeous beard I was desperate to touch is tickling my face in the best way.

When he pulls away, he leaves my lips feeling swollen. “I guarantee you’re fucking drenched under that little dress, Poppy,” he says with a grin. His confidence is nearly obnoxious, but he’s exactly right. I can feel how wet the kiss made me, how even looking at his face makes me pulse between the legs. “You want me to check?”

I laugh, but it sounds hollow. “I know you think you’re good in bed, but I don’t think you can give me what I need. I have a drawer full of purple friends better than anything you can give me.”

“You really don’t know anything about me, Poppy.”

I go to speak, but he brings a finger to my lips, shushing me. I think he tries to say something, but his eyes become fixated on where he’s touching bottom lip.

After a minute, he finally looks into my eyes again. “I know what you need, Poppy.” I quirk an eyebrow, and his mouth comes down to my ear. “You need someone to bend you over and fuck you until you can’t walk. You need someone to take charge, to pull your hair and tell you what to do. You need me to make you come on my face until you can remember nothing but the way my tongue feels inside you.”

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. How does he know these things about me? Is it printed on the dress I’m wearing, or can he see it in my face? But coming on his face, soaking that beard…It sends heat through my whole body, just imagining it.

It's probably the buzz of the alcohol affecting me, or the vague familiarity of him. Or maybe it’s just how fucking hot he looks, and how wet his dirty words made me.

Either way, I want nothing more than to let him do all those things to me.

He smirks when I don’t reply. “Come with me,” he practically orders, then drags me with him.

I try voicing some protests, but it’s a half-hearted effort, because this man could lead me to my death, and I’d follow like a lost puppy. It’s taken a lot for me to be able to sleep with men after Brendan, but that doesn’t mean I like sleeping with just about anyone.

But this man is intriguing me. I desperately want his name, to find out who he is, but I also really want to know what’s behind the zipper of his jeans.

Still, I ask, “Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer, but the second he leads me down a hallway, I know I’m not keeping my dress on for long.

He shoves me into a room at the end of the hallway, and I quickly realise it’s a guest bedroom. “Are you staying over?” I ask.

He looks over at me after he closes the door, then leads me to the middle of the room. “No, I have my own apartment. Jay just lets me use this room whenever I’m visiting.”

“Use this room..?” I ask, because what he’s insinuating sounds like–

“Not like that, Poppy. No need to be jealous.” He smirks when I roll my eyes. “You’ve got me all to yourself.”

I hum, then my breath catches as I feel him come up behind me. His hand dips beneath my dress and he immediately finds evidence of what his kiss did to me.

He groans. “So fucking wet for me already, huh?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

He pulls away, making me whine a little. “Get on your knees, Poppy,” he orders gruffly with a helpful hand to my shoulder.

He pushes me down until my knees hit the carpeted floor. A moment later, he unzips his jeans and pulls his length out. It springs free, and my eyes widen a little at the size.

“Open your mouth.” I do as I’m told, and he immediately pushes his cock into my mouth. Then further and further in, all the way until it’s in my throat. I gag around him, but he doesn’t move. He just grips my hair and stays there for what feels like minutes, all the way until my throat burns.

He pulls out, and I gasp. “I can’t go that deep,” I sputter, coughing a little.

“But you just did,” he deadpans, like I’m dumb. I go to reply, but he shoves my head down onto his thick length again.

I try my best to adjust to his size, opening my throat, but any time one of us moves, I gag again. And I’m pretty sure he’s intentionally making me gag whenever I seem to adjust.

He finally pulls out again, then leans down to kiss me. “Such a good little whore,” he breathes against me, and the degradation makes me that much more needy for him.

“God…” I moan when his tongue licks at my lips.

“Tell me you’re a good little whore, Poppy,” he orders, and I look up at him with a furrowed brow. He grins. “You know you want me to fuck your little mouth some more.” Despite myself, I nod. “Tell me.”

“I…I’m a good little whore,” I mutter.

“Louder,” he demands.

I repeat myself, louder this time, and he hums his appreciation. “Now ask me to fuck your little mouth.”

I look at the floor in shame and mutter his request, but his calloused palm grabs my chin, tilting my face up. He gives me a pointed look, and I know he doesn’t need to repeat his earlier request. “Please fuck my little mouth,” I ask loudly, humiliation heating my cheeks.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, then does exactly what I asked of him. He doesn’t hold back, gripping my hair and forcing me up and down his length. I suck at him whenever I can, but he’s moving so quick I barely get a chance to. He’s using my mouth for whatever the hell he wants, and he's relentless.

Eventually, he pushes me all the way down his length, and I moan despite the pain. I expect him to come down my throat, but he doesn’t, and I only realise what he’s about to do a second before he pulls out and comes all over my face.

I gasp, causing a few drops of his come to drip down to my lips and into my gaping mouth. He groans at the sight, then pushes more of his release into my mouth using his thumb. I swallow everything he gives me.

Once satisfied, though still with plenty of his come on my face, he drags me up. Next, he helps me take off my dress, then my panties, leaving me bare.

“Get on the bed and bend over,” he orders loudly, and I worry that someone outside the door might hear him at this volume.

Still, I obey, making my way over to the bed. He places a hand at the nape of my neck, pushing me down and down until my ass is high in the air and my come filled face is pushed into the pillow.

Is he going to sleep on that tonight? I fucking hope not.

But any thoughts vanish when he kneels behind me and his breath fans my wet core. And I swear I see stars when he licks up my entire seam before sucking my clit into his mouth.

I moan and back into his face, urging him on. He licks and sucks at me with abandon, like this is his last meal. His tongue wrings moans and gasps from me I didn’t think I could produce.

I’ve never had a hook up like this, where there’s no penetration, just oral. Yet it’s better than anything I’ve ever had. The way he fucked my mouth, the way he’s licking away at me, feels so much better than any of my friends in my bedside table.

He nips at my clit with his lips, making a little popping sound as he releases it. “Do you wanna come?” he asks against me, sending vibrations through my body.

“Yes,” I moan into the pillow.

“Beg for it, Poppy.”

I must be under a spell. A lust-filled, horny as fuck spell. Because I don’t hesitate for long before I do as he says. “Please make me come,” I beg. “Please, please, please.”

He hums, giving me another lick up my entire slit. “Call me Master,” he demands.

“Huh?” I ask, dumfounded, because I’ve never had a guy demand that of me.

“Did I fucking stutter, Poppy?” he asks, and I shrink a little into the mattress.

“I…Please make me come, Master,” I mutter, but he grabs my hair and pulls my head back.

“Louder.”

“Please make me come, Master!” I push out in desperation, wincing when he releases me.

“Such a good slut, aren’t you?” He goes back to sucking my clit into his mouth and it doesn’t take long before my climax crashes over me.

I groan and shake all over as I come on the stranger’s face. He keeps licking, not giving up until the last of my orgasm fades away, and even then he gives me one last lick, making me shudder.

He goes to stand, then helps me follow. “You know what polite girls say?” he asks, and I shake my head. “They thank their Master.”

Blood rushes to my face when I look up into his eyes. My face is still covered with his come, though all that remains has dried. I’m still naked as well, so the humiliation of having to follow his command is overwhelming.

Yet I still don’t delay for long before I say, loud and clearly this time, “Thank you, Master.”

He smirks, and I frown, because I expected him to give me praise like he did earlier.

He unceremoniously hands me my clothes, and I realise he’s about to kick me out. “Wait,” I grab his arm after I pull on my dress. “You still didn’t tell me your name.”

A sigh escapes his luscious lips. “I’m not going to tell you, Poppy.”

“What? But you promised…”

“I didn’t promise a damn thing.” I reel back at the sudden bite in his tone. “Now please go. I need to clean up.”

Hurt grips my chest at how he’s kicking me out, but I don’t stick around to let him see it, even as tears well in my eyes. I hurry to leave, not even closing the door behind me.

A few minutes later, I find Ava in the kitchen, chatting with Jay. “Hey, girl,” she greets when I approach, but she must see the hurt on my face, because she places a concerned hand on my upper arm. “Are you okay? What’s wrong, Poppy?”

“Nothing,” I mutter. I just really want to go home at this point.

“Cole!” Jay yells, but I’m barely paying attention. It’s only when I turn to face the person approaching that I realise it’s the same man who made me come on his face a few minutes ago. “What’s up, man? Where did you go?”

Wait. His name is Cole?

“Did you two..?” Ava asks, pointing between us.

“What?” Cole chuckles. “No.” I wince a little at the way he denies sleeping with me, but only he notices. He gives me a smile. It’s not a kind smile at all. It’s the smile of a man who just hurt me and gets off on knowing how much he tore my heart apart.

I look into his green eyes, just as he looks into my blue ones. His face, even hidden beneath that beard, looks so fucking familiar I can’t take it.

But it’s only when he walks away that the realisation crashes into me.

My heart stops. I grab Ava’s arm in a panic. “What’s his last name?” I hurry out.

“What? How would I know?” I groan, but Jay speaks up.

“Cole? His name is Beckett. Cole Beckett.”

I close my eyes when my realisation is confirmed. Because the man who just came on my face, then made me come on his, is not a stranger at all.

How did I not see it? I mean, how many fucking people in this world are that tall and have green eyes? But his full beard, the muscles cording every inch of his large body. And the new confidence he carried himself with. It all threw a veil over him, making it impossible to recognise him eight years later.

And I know that he recognised me. There’s just no fucking way he didn’t. Because unlike him, I look almost identical to how I did back then. I’m still tiny and I’m still blonde. He had me suck his dick and humiliate myself for him, all without revealing who he really is.

Was that what this was about? Revenge for what happened in school? How vindictive, conniving, and petty does he have to be to treat me like that, just for revenge? I know I was bad back then, but I wasn’t so bad that I deserved to be treated like that.

I can’t pretend I didn’t like it, the way he treated me. But I can be angry as fuck with how he clearly did all that for his own sick pleasure.

Ava looks at me like I’m about to collapse, and I probably am. Tears are streaking down my cheeks, which I only realise when I go to wipe them away without thinking about it.

I don’t stay for long. I hurry out of the house, hearing Ava yelling and running after me.

But I don’t listen to her. Because meeting Cole Beckett again after almost a decade is something I can’t handle. I never expected to see him again, and now that I have, I don’t know what to do.

Should I contact him and apologise? Or should I just hope to never run into him again? I mean, that strategy worked for this long. What’s another eight years?

Yeah. That’s definitely the best option. It’s a coward’s choice, but that’s all I’ve been when it comes to him for the past eight years.

Now I just hope to God I never run into him again.

Thank you for reading!💜 Like I said, this is Part 1 of many, and I'll post the next few parts soon-ish🥰