The Fourth Round Of Shame And Ruin.
1970 Words
Chapter 13.
If anyone had told me that I would take the c**k of a man for the fourth round in a single day, I would never have believed it.
But I did. I took Maxwell’s c**k, over and over again until I could barely feel my legs.
Four rounds. Four rounds of sweet, dominating s*x that left my p***y dripping and aching in ways I didn’t know it could hurt.
I lay on the bed, tired, helpless, and sore from how good Maxwell had f****d my p***y like I was his to ruin.
The air in the room was thick and heavy… the scent of s*x clogging the air like fog.
Maxwell lay behind me, his eyes watching and piercing into my back amidst the silence that draped over the room.
My skin burned, the weight of his gaze piercing into me.
I was tired. Exhausted from how used I was, and every time I tried to drag myself out of the bed, it sent a dull sting through my thighs — a reminder of what I had permitted until I could barely breathe.
The weight of the silence pressed in, and I could tell he wanted to say a word, but he didn’t.
This should be my call to leave, but how could I? When my legs were trembling and wobbling in both pleasure and soreness.
Amidst the conflict between my thighs, I stretched my shaking fingers, reaching out for my dress which was currently on the floor.
I got out of bed, walls aching from the reminder of him.
I should stay, a voice in my head whispered, but I dared not think of staying a second.
As I slipped the dress over my head, I watched Maxwell’s expression through the corner of my eyes.
His brows pulled together, and he rolled over to the edge of the bed where I lay before.
“Clara,” he called, his voice deeper yet softer — it made my knees sink deeper.
I spared him a glance, one so quick I refused to give it meaning.
“It’s late,” he countered, his voice dragging me through the abyss of something deeper.
But I shut it out immediately. As much as my body screamed for rest, my heart screamed louder. I needed air… space… anything that wasn’t him. Anything to get rid of his shame that was burning through me like fire.
The dress clung to my damp skin as I slipped it on fully.
This time, Maxwell was already standing beside me. “Clara,” he called softly, grabbing one of my wrists.
The warmth of his palm slipped into me, trying to peel out my layers of resolve.
But I suppressed a swallow, pulling my hand from his. “I have to go.”
“It’s late,” Maxwell countered, his tone coming a little strained.
I avoided his gaze as I grabbed my bag from the bedside. “I know. I just want to be at home.”
“Clara,” he called, trying to grab my hands again, but I pulled away immediately, clutching the handle of my bag.
“Good night,” I let out a gentle whisper, walking away before he could say another word.
With every step I took, Maxwell stood watching me walk away. I knew he wanted to chase after me, but he was a man who respected decisions, and I hate to admit it, but I loved that about him.
I walked into the elevator, still clutching the handle of my bag. And by the time the elevator closed, my heart cracked and all my pent-up emotions swirled in.
Exhaustion washed over me, followed by a feeling of shame that had tears forming against my lids.
I blinked back once, trying to decipher every tear, but they came rolling freely, burning my cheeks like scorching fire.
I clutched my bag, struggling to ground myself, but a sob escaped my lips before I could even stop it.
“Oh…” I cried into the corner, my legs barely holding me together.
Why? Why was this happening? Why was my body desiring what my heart doesn’t? Why do I want him so much even when I know he was up to no good?
Why was my p***y still dripping even after four f*****g rounds of being f****d in ways no one has ever done to me?
Why? Why was I into this like it shouldn’t be just a fling?
Another tear slipped down my cheek, but this time I hurriedly wiped it off, pulling myself together before stepping out of the elevator.
When I returned home, I prepared for the next day, reminding myself that I had to be better so I could spare customers the best of smiles.
*
The next day.
For the hundred and tenth time today, I haven’t stopped thinking about Maxwell — the graze of his lips and every f*****g thrust he gave. My p***y is still sore, yet every thought had me desiring him like I shouldn’t hate him.
Work ended some minutes back, and I was currently walking into my apartment, melting under the cold air of the room.
I slumped into the chair, and within that minute, it didn’t take more than a second to be pulled out by the beeping sound of my phone.
My brows knitted and I spared the screen a glance — Leo?
I rolled my eyes, grabbing the phone before picking the call.
“Clara.” Leo’s voice came in smooth and cheerful, like we were both lovey-dovey.
“Why are you calling me?”
“There is a charity dinner tonight, Clara. Come with me.”
Silence fell over the room for some seconds, a soft scoff slipping past my lips.
“Not interested,” I replied bluntly, wondering what gave him the effrontery to ask me when he has a mistress.
Before Leo could say another word, I ended the call, throwing my phone across the chair.
A loud hush fell over the room, but the silence only lasted for a second because another call came in, and I could have sworn it was Leo again.
But when I picked my phone up, my breath hitched and my grip on the phone loosened.
I stared back at the screen, heart skipping while I hesitated for some seconds before picking up the call.
“Clara.” Maxwell’s voice came in — thick yet smooth, it held a charm that made my insides churn.
My lips parted, but he spoke again. “There is a charity dinner this evening. I would love to go with you.”
Charity dinner? The same one Leo spoke of minutes ago?
Silence settled over the phone and the only thing I could hear was his soundless anticipation. Then I finally replied, “Not interested.”
The air in the room stilled and I could feel his fingers tightly wrapping around his phone.
“Why?” His deep voice came in, holding an edge of concern I knew too well.
Why? Leo’s words settled in and a thought suddenly struck my mind.
His lips parted again to speak, but I came in first. “I have been asked on the date already…”
Before he could give another reply, I ended the call promptly, ignoring the reaction my body had gotten from hearing his voice again.
I glanced at my phone for a second longer before placing a call to Leo.
“Hey…” His voice came in with amusement, but I chipped in immediately, leaving no room for further questions.
“Come pick me up,” I informed briefly, ending the call immediately.
*
Evening came by quickly. Now I was staring back at the reflection of myself which was wearing a beautiful black dress, its slit stretching across the corner of my thighs, exposing the beauty of my skin.
A loud honk came from the car park, and I didn’t need to know Leo was here already.
With my clutch in hand, I spared my reflection one last look in the mirror before walking out.
The cool air of the evening grazed my skin the moment I stepped past my door. Some inches away, Leo stood, dressed in a black suit and an expression enough to convey lust.
Clearly, the air in my lungs vanished and his eyes lingered on me for seconds longer.
I walked closer to the car and with every step, his gaze burned me like a blaze, but the only thing I felt was disgust. Raw, aching disgust.
“You are beautiful, Clara,” Leo said as I opened the door, sounding more like he never knew I was.
“Thank you,” I mumbled softly, getting into the car.
When he joined me in, his eyes darkened, still raw and heated with something I knew better.
“You know…” His voice came in gently as he tilted his body slightly just to see me. “We could skip the dinner, you know… just you… and…” His fingers brushed my arm slowly, but I slapped his hand away before he could push further.
“Don’t push it,” I said sternly, looking away to hide the disgust shimmering in my eyes.
A smile formed at the corner of Leo’s lips, then he raised his hand in mock surrender. “You can’t blame a man for trying,” he whispered, winking his lashes at me, but I looked away, resting my head on the window.
The ride to the destination was long, and all through it, I had my head on the window, watching the city as it moved in blurs.
When we arrived at the venue, the hall glimmered, and the chandelier bathed it in a warm glow.
Conversation quickened and laughter filled the air. Music drifted from inside. And while I stood still, Leo tried sneaking his wrist around my waist, but I stepped away before his hand could land.
His brows raised and he asked, “Guarded now, huh?”
I stood with disgust-filled eyes, tilting my chin in utter sophistication. “Go and enjoy yourself. Find someone to keep you company.”
A look of confusion masked his face. “You came with me.”
“And now I am letting you off early,” I replied and walked off before he could say another word.
I walked deeper into the hall, finding a spot to sit while watching the crowd buzz with conversation. Waiters passed with trays of champagne, and the room smelled of roses and perfume — a world that didn’t feel like mine.
I sat still, watching every movement until my mind drifted back to Maxwell’s apartment — to the sound of his heartbeat against my ear, to the way his lips pressed into my skin, stirring a heat like it was doing now, and to the look he gave me when he said stay. For a moment, I almost regretted walking away. Then I remembered how helplessly needy my body was when I was with him. And that… that was all it took for the regret to vanish.
A waiter passed and I reached for a glass of wine from his tray.
I lifted the glass to my lips, and the moment I made to sip, my eyes caught the sight of someone, and I stilled mid-action.
Raven hair, grey eyes, broad shoulders. My grip on the glass tightened and I lowered it, watching as he walked towards me.
Tall and effortlessly composed. When his eyes caught mine, I could swear I saw them glisten.
Conversation faltered and my eyes lingered on him, noticing the calmness in each step.
There was something calm about the way he moved… not pushy like Leo, not heavy like Maxwell. Just… sure.
- Writer
