Elijah closed his eyes, drawing in steady, deep breaths to calm the storm within.
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The sounds began again—soft, gasping moans from Evelyn followed by the sharp smack of skin meeting skin.
He glanced at his phone.
3:14 a.m.
They had been going for what felt like hours, but time blurred into the cadence of her voice—velvety, fragile, rising in brief crescendos then crashing into quiet valleys. As the night stretched on, Evelyn’s pleas softened, became almost shy whispers.
Elijah stared until his phone’s screen dimmed, then placed it face-down on his leg. The cold tile pressed beneath him, a numbing contrast to the fire smoldering in his chest—an ache he couldn’t quite name.
The rhythm picked up again, sharper, insistent. His teeth clenched involuntarily.
This wasn’t what he expected. He’d braced himself for a short, clumsy encore of Evelyn’s first night with the older couple—just a few minutes filled with muffled moans, awkward thrusts, then fleeing into the dark.
But this? This was relentless.
Fingers curled into fists as his other hand adjusted the mounting tension in his pants.
“Say it again,” Ivan’s smug voice called through the closed bedroom door. “Say it while I fuck you.”
“I love your cock so much,” Evelyn whispered in breathless reverence.
A sharp pang hit Elijah.
He wanted to block it out—to reach for his headphones, drown the scene in noise, run to some other room. But he stayed.
Because she had asked him to.
So he sat, heart tight in his throat, as Evelyn’s breathy cries tangled with Ivan’s growls in the next room.
She sounded so alive, so undone—her voice cracking, gasping after each hard slap, unraveling with desperation and need. And listening to her, his body responded, swelling with a need of his own.
Ivan wielded his confidence like a weapon—his words sharp, possessed.
“Look at me. Don’t you fucking dare look away.”
“You love this cock, don’t you?”
“Moan for me when you come.”
Elijah’s stomach tightened with anxiety.
Was this what she craved? The man who fucked without hesitation, untiring, taking what he wanted in an endless storm?
What if he couldn’t give her that?
He exhaled sharply, trying to quiet the tremor in his hands.
Maybe Val had been right.
“Pretty girls like that know how to play people,” she had said. He’d dismissed it, chalking it up to protective jealousy.
But now, sitting in a cold hallway of a rich stranger’s home, Evelyn’s name carried in moans from the room beyond, the words rang bitterly in his mind.
He felt small.
Ivan had it all—wealth, looks, power. He didn’t have to try; women like Evelyn were drawn to him as if by gravity.
Elijah, by contrast, felt like an afterthought, a backdrop to a scene in which he wasn’t truly a player.
A creak of the bed snapped his attention back.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Each blow echoed like thunder, followed by a guttural moan from Evelyn, soft, shaky, drunk on pleasure.
“Oh my god, don’t stop…”
His cock shifted beneath his pants as a wave of shame and desire roiled within him.
He shouldn’t be hard. He shouldn’t want this. But he did. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, tracing the contours of her voice—the way she begged, the way she sobbed Ivan’s name.
“Fuck, Ivan… right there… oh god!” Her cries crashed over him like fierce waves.
She screamed his name, as if she belonged to him alone.
Elijah squeezed his eyes shut, chest aching. He recalled her words—the plea for him to stay, that this moment was for him. That he was special.
“Jesus! Ivan! Ivan!!”
He clung to that hope.
Another cry pierced the quiet.
The air thickened, every sound wrapping around Elijah, pulling him like a moth toward the flame, even as his mind screamed to stay away.
He pictured her—legs spread wide, eyes closed, Ivan’s rough hands locked on her hips, her mouth open, begging for him.
His fists clenched tight.
A searing ache settled low in his belly.
He wanted to be the one unraveling her, the one who guided her through pleasure.
No, he needed it.
Desire and curiosity burned too fiercely.
Rising carefully, he crept on the soft carpet toward the bedroom door.
It was ajar—left open carelessly.
He pressed his hand to the frame, heart racing as he peered inside.
Evelyn knelt on all fours, arms stretched long over the sheets, face pressed tenderly to the mattress. Her back arched in a perfect, sinful curve.
Behind her, Ivan gripped her hips, driving deep with powerful, relentless thrusts.
Muscles rippled under sweat, his pace harsh and unforgiving. Their bodies slapped together in a rhythmic beat that filled the still room.
Slap.
Slap.
With every strike, Evelyn’s body jolted—her breasts swaying, hips rippling with fervor. Elijah’s gaze traced the lines from her thighs to the curve of her chest, settling finally on her face.
Suddenly, Evelyn’s eyes fluttered open, locking with his.
Half-lidded, glazed, she smiled softly.
“Hi…” she mouthed, voice a breath against Ivan’s ragged grunts.
Warmth flooded Elijah’s chest.
Ivan yanked a fistful of her hair, pulling her upward until her back arched deeper, face tipped to the ceiling.
“Goddamn tight little thing,” Ivan growled between pants. “You gonna cum for me again?”
Elijah remained frozen, painfully erect, the tension pressing against the fabric of his pants.
He tried to adjust discreetly, but it did little.
He watched Ivan’s hard thrusts punctuate her cries; Evelyn’s eyes never left his.
Even as her fingers curled into the sheets, as Ivan’s rhythm grew wild and more aggressive, and the sound of their bodies slapped loud as thunder, she watched him—smiling like it was the apex of her world.
That smile cut deeper than any words.
She glowed just from seeing him. Even bound, used, trembling beneath another man, she was his.
It didn’t make sense, but he felt it—the invisible tether coiling tight around his chest, an unspoken bond.
Until Ivan’s fingers closed around Evelyn’s throat, choking gently as he bit into her shoulder.
Then Ivan shifted his gaze to Elijah, eyes sharp and wicked.
Elijah stood frozen, caught and vulnerable, wishing he could vanish into the shadows.
Ivan’s thrusts didn’t cease. Sweat traced his bare back as he continued, each movement forcing Evelyn forward in agonized bliss.
“Didn’t I tell him not to look?” Ivan growled.
Evelyn averted her gaze.
Elijah said nothing.
“I said,” Ivan barked, voice low and dangerous, “didn’t I tell him not to look?”
Evelyn shuddered, Ivan pulling her fully onto his cock.
“Yes. You did,” she breathed.
Ivan grinned.
“Guess that means I have to show him why he should’ve stayed in the hallway.”
He slid out slowly, slick with her arousal, guiding her to her knees with a firm grip on her hips.
Evelyn obeyed silently, like a secret script.
Elijah watched as Ivan grasped her hair, pressing his thick cock to her parted lips.
She opened without hesitation, taking him in. A muffled moan escaped as she wrapped a hand around his base, bobbing gently with slow, languid motions. Her lashes fluttered while she swallowed him deeper.
“You know what’s funny?” Ivan said, never breaking eye contact with Elijah.
Pulling her head back, he slowly withdrew—slapping himself across her cheek. Her mouth stayed parted, tongue flicking with every impact.
“She doesn’t have to do this,” he said. “She makes more than enough online—from clips, messages, sponsors…”
His hand spanked lightly across her other cheek.
“…She chooses to do this.”
“She wants it. She wants to be on her knees, her throat destroyed, with you standing there like a fucking extra.”
Ivan’s gaze bore into Elijah’s.
“You’re here not because she loves you, but because she likes the idea of you watching. You’re a toy—nothing more.”
Elijah’s chest constricted.
He looked to Evelyn, expecting denial, a protest, something to affirm that he meant more.
But she only moaned, throat working, lips glossy and wet as she took Ivan deeper.
Her grip tightened, spit pooling at the edges, throat flexing with every stroke. Ivan held her head, guiding her unrelenting performance.
Elijah felt shards of his heart break apart.
She glanced once toward him, registering the pain in his eyes. Then hesitated.
Slowly, her lips slid from Ivan’s cock, glistening wet, chin slick with saliva, eyes soft and vulnerable.
Ivan pushed forward again, undeterred.
“I didn’t say stop,” he snapped.
Evelyn looked from Ivan to Elijah, silence stretching thick between them.
Elijah held his breath, torn between hope and despair, waiting for her to choose him.
Instead, Ivan brushed damp hair from her face, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. His fingers lingered gently on her cheek.
“I didn’t say stop,” he repeated, softer.
With a tender smile, Evelyn shut her eyes and sank back onto Ivan’s cock.
Ivan groaned deeply, his hands braced behind her head as he thrust with calculated possession.
Evelyn gagged lightly as he pushed deep into her throat, clutching his thighs, breath hitching with every move. He pulled out, dragging spit and precum down her chin, then plunged in harder.
Tilting his head, Ivan locked eyes with Elijah.
“Keep watching,” he said coolly. “You signed up for this role, and you’re playing it well.”
Elijah stood still, unblinking, body trembling with need.
He watched Evelyn take each powerful thrust, her moans weak but steady as she welcomed Ivan deep, again and again.
The raw, dominant dance hypnotized him, stirring desires he hadn’t known were there.
He should’ve left. Turned away. But he remained, breath shallow, heart racing.
Eventually, Ivan grunted and pulled Evelyn up roughly, dragging her back onto the bed.
He flipped her onto her back and slid in with slow, deliberate force.
She moaned sharply, arching beneath him, striving to meet his pace.
She tried to steal a glance toward Elijah, but Ivan caught her jaw in his hand.
“No,” he murmured, almost tenderly. “Eyes on me.”
They kissed—tongues swirling, hips grinding in a slow, intimate rhythm. Evelyn’s moans softened, steadying into genuine pleasure.
She melted into him, unraveled beneath his steady hold.
And Elijah believed it.
Ivan was right—this wasn’t about need or obligation.
She chose this, craved the fierce, possessive passion Ivan gave her.
She wanted him.
And she knew Elijah couldn’t give her that.
Maybe that was the truth he’d come to witness all along.
“Pretty girls like that know how to play people,” Val’s words echoed sharply.
Elijah stepped back slowly, leaning against the cold marble wall, sliding down until he settled on the floor.
The chill seeped into his skin as he curled into the warmer center of the carpet, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
He felt pathetic.
Anyone else would have gone hours ago—blocked her number, erased every memory.
But he stayed.
Because he remembered her voice, her smile.
“Will you stay?”
The plea hadn’t been casual or seductive—just raw, vulnerable.
She never pretended to be more than herself, never expected more from any man but him.
She never begged. She just asked.
And he said yes.
Because he wasn’t like the others.
Because he could endure it.
Because he wanted to.
That must mean something.
Right?
The sounds softened now—no taunts, just the slow rhythm of bodies moving in unison, Evelyn’s moans swallowed by Ivan’s skin.
Elijah closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling him under, cock still painfully hard beneath his pants.
He didn’t touch himself.
He simply lay down on the carpet, surrendering to fatigue and the relentless beat of Evelyn’s surrender.