Addiction
I don’t know when it stopped being wrong and started feeling like oxygen. All I know is that every time they touched me, whether it was Caleb’s rough fingers dragging over my skin or Richard’s filthy words curling against my ear—I felt alive in ways I never thought possible.
Days bled into nights, and the routine of sin became my comfort.
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The afternoons belonged to Caleb. He would catch me glancing at him in the hallway, his smirk daring me to follow. My heart always raced as I slid into his car, the tinted windows trapping us in our secret. The moment the door closed, his hand was between my thighs, his voice growling, “Spread for me.”
I obeyed. Always.
The seatbelt cut into my skin as he pushed me against it, his fingers sliding inside me with brutal rhythm, the
