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the rain came down hard against the glass pane of patrick sumners’ dimly lit office. heavy like hail, hurling itself down from the dark clouds that hung above the english sky. patrick stood at his desk as he urgently packed up all his necessary items, impatient to get home to you—his wife. patrick had usually been less busy, however his office had experienced quite an influx in patients over the last several days due to changing seasons. the common colds, the allergies, the injuries sustained from slipping on ice, you name it. it wasn’t uncommon for patrick to be on his feet all day, but this day in particular had him counting down the minutes until he could run out the door. he made sure everything was arranged correctly for the next day, but not as neatly as it normally was, there just wasn’t time for that. he had spent the last few days overworking himself, to the point where the few times he saw you was when he came home to you sleeping, or woke up to you sleeping. the candles were blown out, and the office was locked up. he walked down the darkened hallway of the building, passing by the offices of other specialists housed within the miniature medical clinic, all of them empty by now leaving patrick the last man out. he had meant to be home an hour ago, but patrick found it quite difficult to decline his services, especially when he knew it was an urgent matter. you were probably worried sick about him. he imagined you hopelessly staring out the window at the rain, an endless list of what could’ve happened to him warping around your mind and leaving you unsettled. in reality, you were waiting for him but not as worried as he thought you up to be. you had decided to spend your time waiting for him in the bathtub, a ritual you performed on certain nights when the home felt too cold without patrick’s presence. you stepped into the warm basin of water and held the sides to ease yourself in, letting your back rest against the cool porcelain. you tipped your head back and sighed, finally feeling soothed, although it would’ve been much better if your husband could join you. nonetheless, you let yourself get comfortable in the warm tub, scooting down slightly to cover more of your body. you reached over the side and grabbed a small bar soap and a coarse washing brush, lifting one leg out of the water to begin gently cleansing yourself. the water became considerably cloudy as a result of the soapy suds, shielding the view of your body under. your eyes were closed until you heard the unmistakable noise of the front door opening and shutting. patrick was home. heavy boots thumped up the stairway in an attempt to be gentle, patrick assumed you were already in the bed asleep until he saw the only lit room on the floor; the bathroom. the door was barely ajar, only a small sliver of light poked through from the bottom. patrick walked over to the door and slowly opened it, revealing you in the bathtub. his gaze landed on you and stayed there, not wanting to look at anything but his wife.

“aw patrick, i’ve missed you. please, sit” you smile gently at him, and gesture towards the small wooden stool beside the tub.

he walks forwards and makes himself comfortable on the stool. one wet hand reaches out from the water to tenderly caress his beard, small droplets of water dripping down his neck and to his knee. he holds your hand in place with his, and you wince at how cold he is.

“i apologize for my timing, it was not on purpose that i come home to you this late” his tone is gentle and soothing to your ears. the kind of voice you could fall asleep to. his tired eyes scanned over the barely visible figure of your body beneath the water, and then back up to your face.

“it is not your fault, my love. it is merely what you signed up for.”

“i never wish to have another day as long as this one. i thought of you the entire time i worked” he quietly admits.

“really?”

“you plague my every waking moment, my darling” he says it as if it were obvious.

his words never failed to make you feel special. patrick had a habit of talking with formalities, even with you, but he meant every word he said to you. he treasured you like no other person could.

you leaned upwards nearing his face before he got the hint that you wanted a kiss. he bent his head down slightly and pressed his lips against yours softly, careful not to ruin the moment. you let your lips linger near his before leaning back down, your eyes never leaving his.

“would you tell me about your day?” you ask him sincerely, but not wanting to press him incase he didn’t wish to debrief.

“you truly want to hear about it? it’ll bore you to sleep, i’m sure” patrick huffs a small laugh.

“please do, i have not heard the sound of your voice in what has felt like ages,” and it was true; patrick had been working a little more than he usually did, and you could see the exhaustion in his face. “and please come closer, put your hands in the water, my love” you grab his hand, signaling him to scoot forward, his abdomen pressed up against the side of the basin. you pull one hand against your collarbone, and he immediately feels the difference in body temperature. you roll up the sleeve of his white dress shirt.

patrick relaxes against your touch, finding comfort when in contact with your body. he begins, “as you know, i started my day early. my walk towards the office was dreary, but that is to be expected at this time. as soon as my doors were open, my practice became flooded with patients. all different types of cases and such,” patrick talked with a smallness in his voice, some words whispered and others softly spoken. during his talking, you would slowly drag his hand beneath the foggy water, closer to your breasts. he noticed you were moving his hand, but he refused to do anything about it just yet.

“it becomes difficult to distinguish the differences between common illnesses, all of them seemingly blending into each other. at the end of the day, i can only believe i have made the most correct decision for each patient,” you continue to pull his hand lower before placing his hand on one of your breasts. patrick doesn’t seem to falter in his speech as he lightly squeezed the fat of your breast, cupping them and smoothing a thumb over your nipple. you continued to stare at him as he talked, admiring him with a heavy lidded gaze. what were the odds that you would end up married to a man so easy on the eyes? he carried on with his talking with his hand simultaneously moving lower and lower, finger tips scraping over your midriff delicately. his profession consisted of touching the skin of many people, however your skin was much different to him, he could touch it all day without getting tired of it.

“i treated a young patient who had fractured his elbow after sliding on ice, it is certainly a painful area to injure but he was a strong boy, barely shedding a tear. then a woman came in claiming she may have contracted chickenpox” his hand was at your navel now, rubbing back and forth to the sides of your waist. you whined quietly at the ticklish sensation, and it made patrick’s eyes move to meet yours, already understanding what it is that you wanted. normally, he would’ve asked you outright what you desired, but this time he was going to let something happen without involving words. his gaze flicked back down to where his hand was, and brushed his fingers against your mound.

“are you sure you want to hear all the details of my day? you don’t seem to-” he began to speak again but you interrupt him, holding his hand under yours.

“keep talking. all i want is your voice” you say with lust practically dripping from your lips, pushing his hand down all the way to where you want it to be. you feel his hand freeze against you, breath hitching, but quickly relaxes. the pads of his fingertips dusted over your nakedness. you moan quietly and lean your head back, closing your eyes in the process.

“very well then, my dear. as i was saying, the woman had chickenpox. she was inconsolable over it, but i assured her that it would clear up over the course of a few days. then i sutured a man’s gash closed,” his fingers slowly ran up and down your slit, collecting whatever slick liquid that was beginning to seep out. every time his fingers moved upwards, he would press down slightly on your clit, eliciting a shaky breath from you.

“it was a deep cut. he had told me he sustained it from a rough night out, he couldn’t quite remember how it happened but judging by the look of it, it must’ve been done by a perpetrator with a blade” now he was rubbing small circles over your clit, and little noises were starting to break out of you. he wondered how you could get off to his gruesome stories, but you weren’t exactly listening to his words, more so his voice. the way it rumbled and rasped when he spoke quietly, aware of how loud his voice sounded when speaking full volume in a small echoey bathroom. patrick was not the type of man to raise his voice, he was quite a soft speaker, never really projecting his voice unless he wasn’t heard the first time. this translated into the bedroom as well. he was vocal enough to let you know it felt good, but he stayed quiet as he much preferred to listen to yours over his.

“the rest of my day became a blur, i believe i may have overworked myself. i spent more time thinking of you than my patients, which i assume must make me irresponsible. it is something i cannot help. i will indulge in my thoughts of you if my mind so pleases” you whimpered both at his words and his fingertips pressing harder against you, his pace unchanging. you open your eyes, and examine his starved expression. this is what he had been waiting to do all day.

“talk about me, now” you mumbled.

“i may not tell you very often, but you are one of the only things that keep me going in this life. i have no purpose if i cannot serve you.”

you bucked your hips into his hand, a clear indication his words were getting you off.

“o-oh patrick mmph” your words made him go faster, the water around his arm creating small ripples.

patrick watched how your chest rose in and out of the water every time you breathed, a tiny portion of your breasts poking out beneath the clouded water, wet skin shining against the candle light.

“i remember, the day i met you, that you would be the death of me. i never believed i would’ve been able to find someone after my time india, but you changed everything.”

the sensitivity in your core had you clenching around nothing. he knew exactly how to stimulate you and he wasn’t wasting any time with it. his fingers were now rubbing your clit at a moderate speed, and you could feel that euphoric sensation building up. your hips continued to jerk forward every time he became a little more rough.

“it’s so good—please—patrick”

“please what, angel?”

“g-god…please continue!”

“you want me to tell you more? how your mere existence consumes every part of me? how i cannot stand when you are not by my side? how i wish to touch as i am now every time i see you?” he was flustered from how much was spilling out of him, how vulnerable he was being. he couldn’t help himself if he tried, his feelings just tumbled out of him. he held your eye contact as slowly watched you nearing your finish. at this point, you could only nod and whimper at everything he said, words becoming too difficult to form. you reached out to grip patrick’s shoulder, but he grabbed your hand instead with his other free arm and held it to his chest.

“you’re close, aren’t you?”

“mhm! v-very..”

“come for me, my darling.”

you closed your eyes to help yourself focus, every rough drag of his fingers pushing you closer towards the finish line. you took a few deep, ragged breaths before it all came out. you finished with a loud whine and a buck of your hips up into his hand, chasing more friction. patrick watched the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your eyebrows furrowed, your tongue when your lips parted and the sounds that would fall from them. god—it was such a beautiful sight.

“that’s it, thaatts itt. there you are. so good for me” he said, almost whispering to himself. he continued to circle your clit but very slowly and lightly now, pulling small aftershocks out of you. then he leaned down once again, lips locking against yours. one wet hand came up to caress the back of his head, dampening his hair slightly. you kissed him deeply as a thank you.

“patrick..” you pull away, lips mere centimetres from his.

“i’m listening.”

“would you..carry me to bed?”

“anything for you, my dove.”

luxurious. lavish. expensive. three words that described your entire life. it had always been that way, ever since you were a baby until the present, you got all that you’ve ever wanted. the word ‘no’ wasn’t even a word that existed in your mental dictionary given the fact that you almost never heard it. you were highly spoiled and came from extreme familial wealth, solidifying your spot in every possible space you wished to join.

throughout your life, you were only gifted with the best; a picturesque home, professional babysitters, the top education available, and a life filled with extravagant experiences. those who didn’t know you called you a princess, those who did called you a rich bitch…and so what? they weren’t wrong. the hardest things you’ve ever endured in life were the times when your freshly manicured nails would chip, or when you just couldn’t decide what to wear while standing in a walk-in closet the size of an average person’s bedroom. you were out of touch with reality, and you liked that. you couldn’t fathom why the outside world needed your attention when you could simply live in your own plush bubble.

it wasn’t your fault however, that’s just the attitude you were constantly surrounded by and how your parents raised you to act. even your own friends acted in their own selfish ways, always flashy and trying to one-up you as if seeing who was more wealthy was the ultimate game of life. it was bothersome, but you could handle it no doubt. i mean, why let such minor troubles affect you when you were off attending the best university in the country, partying til dawn every weekend and getting with every boy you laid your eyes on. life worked in your favour, and to say you had tremendous power over people was an understatement. that’s why when one person resisted your efforts, you were enraged.

it all began when an invite to a party was sent to your instagram dms. a house party, tucked away near the outskirts of the city at someone’s family mansion. nothing you weren’t used to. as much as you liked partying on campus and your dorm only being a short distance away, they were more monitored therefore you couldn’t let loose as much. you were no stranger to a good party, as your friends often dubbed you as the ‘party itself’. it was happening on a weekend to celebrate the end of the first term right before the second one started, and best believe you needed a huge house party after the unbearable amount of exams you just took. you weren’t the smartest girl out there, but you certainly weren’t dumb. yes, your parents knew the headmaster well and put in a good word for you, but that didn’t mean you weren’t somewhat deserving of going to a nice school which is what you told yourself for comfort.

you texted your groupchat with your closest girlfriends asking if they received the same invite, to which they did. in fact, almost everyone in your year was. that was a lot of people, but the more the merrier. it was currently a tuesday, and the party was planned for saturday night, so you really had a lot to look forward to. the mere thought of it even gave you a sudden boost in motivation to get your assignments done early so that you could completely let go the night of.

that saturday afternoon, you stood in a fluffy robe facing your fully packed closet. your hand lightly glided over the hung up dresses, getting a feel for what kind of vibe you wanted to bring to the party. the party was only a few hours away, but you already had your everything shower, fully lotioned yourself from head to toe, hair was done, nails were done, and makeup almost fully completed. you tilted your head back in frustration, not understanding why it always had to be this hard when choosing an outfit. you thought about calling a friend to help you out, but you were all about surprises especially when it came to dressing up, so you scratched that idea off. instead, your mind wandered to the guy you’ve been seeing for awhile now. dominic. he was tall and charming, the one you could bring back home no problem. he approached you at a christmas party on the guise of having mutual friends, but he really only wanted to get you in bed with him. truth be told, it definitely wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had but it was manageable since you happened to be a mid dick magnet. you thought about dominic as you continued to decide what to wear. what could impress him? more so, what could show him you were that girl? you finally landed on an outfit; a mini dress straight from an archive fashion collection. your silhouette was hugged in all the right places and there was no doubt that anyone would be wearing something similar. you paired the dress with some kitten heels, your signature jewelry, and a clutch. standing fully dressed in front of your mirror, you took a few mirror selfies before stepping forward and pressing your glossy lips to the cold material, symbolizing good luck.

you shared a limousine with your friends on the way there, making sure to pregame with a bottle of champagne. the mansion came up on a hill and was absolutely stunning. it was an older french country mansion, not like those lifeless modern homes that were composed of giant rectangles. you didn’t know the host well, but you knew his family had good taste. it was around dusk when you arrived and the house was nearly filled by now, with some people choosing to stand out in the front and the back for personal space. you and your friends walked into the large foyer and was immediately met with the smell of perfume and weed. there could have been hundreds of people in this house. suddenly, dominic came into your peripheral and hugged you, which did shock you slightly.

“always good to see you, babe. how are ya? you all just arrived or what?” he said into your ear, almost slurring his words like he was drunk. he definitely smelled like it.

“yeah i’m alright, we just got here…you can let go now” you said uncomfortably through a smile, itching to get his paws off your dress.

dominic let go but continued to hold your hips as he leaned down to kiss you. your friends let you know they were going to walk over to the bar and asked what they could get you, and the thought of getting another drink instantly pulled you away from his lips.

“a glass of red!” you said desperately. wine loosened you up like no other drink could.

“ohh fuck, ‘forgot to ask you if you wanted something..” he says, cradling your cheek. you winced at the smell of booze in his breath and you leaned away.

“don’t worry, you’ll know for next time” you flash him a smile that makes his knees wobble, and he chuckles.

“glass of red for the little party girl!” one of your friends hands you a generously full glass, and you immediately begin chugging it like it’s beer. you were famously irresponsible with your drinking but you always denied it, mostly because you never remembered much when you were drunk.

for the first half of the night, you chatted and danced like a proper party goer, and you were always the one who stood out amongst the crowd. the second half of the night was a little different. it was already a little late by then, around 10pm, but the house was now at full capacity. some people were fully drunk, others jumping into the pool outside, and some upstairs occupying the guest bedrooms. the basement of the home was where the more ‘lucrative’ part of the party was happening. obviously you had to go down there. dominic told you about the host hiring some drug dealers to deal to the party goers, almost in the same way you hire clowns to entertain children at a birthday party. it intrigued you. you hadn’t really done drugs except a little weed here and there, and one magic mushrooms trip when you were 14. dominic led you down the winding stairs towards the basement, making sure to keep your tipsy self from falling. the basement was darker and the smell of weed was much stronger. it was buzzing with people, and dominic was eager to get some coke from one of the dealers. he pulled you along through the groups of people until he came up to a man sitting at a couch with drugs laid out in little baggies in front of him. girls tripped over themselves as they waited in line for more drugs when they clearly had enough, while some guys stood anxiously as they attempted to get a lower price on the coke, but the dealer kept firm on his prices. when it was you and dominic’s turn, you took a moment to register his look; he had on dark clothing that blended into the couch he was sat on, shaggy cropped hair, pale skin, and a face that made your stomach flutter. he was laid back on the couch nursing a beer bottle.

“what can i do for ‘ya, mate?” the man said as he leaned forward slightly, looking up at dominic.

“just some coke man, nothin’ crazy” dominic said trying to joke around, although it sounded annoying coming from his mouth.

“anyfin for your lady?” the dealer said looking up at you while taking a sip. you liked the way he looked at you, even if it was just a regular stare.

“we’re sharing” said dominic.

“‘course, mate. how much?”

“an 8 ball.”

the man sorted through his little baggies and pulled out one that was filled to the brim with the powdery substance. dominic pulled out his wallet from his pocket and hands the dealer some money, while grabbing the bag in the other.

“gracias my amigo” dominic says again in a cheesy voice, and it literally grates your ears to hear him try to be funny.

“enjoy” the dealer says kindly, although annoyed by dominic’s presence.

dominic takes you to another couch, still in view of the dealer, and flops down.

“you ever done this before?” he says while scrambling to find something with a flat surface, instead opting to use his phone screen.

“mm, no” you say sounding uninterested, your eyes completely focused on the dealer handing out more drugs. you wondered what his name was, how the host knew him, and if he went to your university.

“wanna sniff the first line?” dominic already had two lines created in the time you spent staring off.

“i don’t think i want any coke tonight, sorry babe” you say with a fake smile, feeling a little uncomfortable.

dominic pauses and furrows his brows, “okay so, i just spend money on coke for the both of us, and you’re saying you don’t want any?”

“i never told you i wanted coke.”

“yeah, but i was under the impression you wanted some since you wanted to come down ‘ere so badly.”

“you’re having a laugh, babe.”

he uses his money that he rolled up to sniff the coke while you talk, and he takes a hard sniff to really get it up his nose. you could tell he just wanted you to piss off already.

“this couch is reserved for people who do coke.”

“guess i’ll go back upstairs then. text me when you wanna stop acting like a dick” you huff, grabbing your clutch and storming away from dominic. you head towards the stairs, but you take one last look at the dealer, and he’s looking at you too.

3am was rolling around, and the party was wrapping up. the host noted on the invite that everyone would be kicked out at 3 because their parents would be coming back at 7am. the mansion was pretty trashed at this point, beer cans were littered all over the property, some toilets were clogged, the smell of weed couldn’t have been removed even with 100 candles burning, and not to mention all the people who were passed out. this house would probably never see another party again. you were still annoyed at dominic for how he treated you, but you also couldn’t keep your mind off that dealer. you needed to know his name at least before you left. dominic had already left with a few friends, coked out of his mind, so you felt okay going back into the basement. you told your friends you needed to use the toilet before you left, and they waited in the foyer for the limousine driver. you made your way down the stairs of basement, and felt your nerves twisting as it was pretty quiet down there. there were only a few party goers left, most passed out, but the dealers were packing up. you spotted him on the same couch, packing his things into a backpack, completely oblivious to you padding over to him until he felt the couch dip slightly beside him. he quickly turned his head to look at you and raised his brows in surprise.

“shops’ all packed in now, babe. you could’ve bought sumfin’ 10 minutes ago” he says as he returns to packing.

“not looking to buy.”

“whatdya’ want then.”

“your name.”

he looks back at you, even more surprised but also a tinge of confusion as well.

“cook. james cook. and yours?”

you gave him yours in the sweetest voice you could put on, using your charm as a weapon like a snake with venom.

“nice to meet you, cook.” you say quietly but genuinely as you admire his facial features. he had a boyish beauty. a little rough around the edges. the fact that you felt some attraction was incredibly weird considering you went for preppy guys, but in the moment you didn’t acknowledge it.

“say cook…why don’t we have a little fun in that bathroom over there?” you tilt your head with a pout.

cook laughs awkwardly and looks at you, then shakes his head.

“nah, babe. weren’t you here with some bloke? the unfunny one?”

you frowned, feeling insulted.

“that’s not my man, he’s just some guy i shag…not that he’s any good though” you trail off slightly on that last part, a quiet admission of truth.

“sorry ‘bout that. i’m not doin’ any shagging tonight though, sweetheart.”

you understood the concept of consent, but the concept of being told ‘no’ was making you visibly upset, not to mention the fact that you were pretty drunk.

“every guy wants to shag me.”

“every guys’ not me, babe.”

“but..i always get what i want.”

“dunno ‘bout that, darlin'.”

you slumped back into the couch in defeat, you didn’t even realize your protesting was becoming embarrassing. for a moment, cook looked back at you, slightly entertained by the spoiled brat sitting next to him.

“whatever, i’m too good for you anyways, so is this pussy” you say angrily while getting up.

“you keep tellin’ yourself that” cook says in a nonchalant tone, which riles you up even more.

“fuck you! you don’t even know who you’re talking to, you knob!” now you’re yelling, and people are looking.

cook just laughs, the same way he used to laugh when he was younger and some idiotic scenario was happening in front of him. he was throughly entertained by you.

tears start forming in your eyes quickly from both the humiliation and the fact that your charm didn’t work. you made an angry groan before thumping the floor with one foot like a child throwing a tantrum, and stormed off again. this time not looking back.

the ride home was a disaster. two of your friends got motion sickness, another was arguing on the phone with her parents, and you were sat there sulking. never in your life have you felt so rejected, that’s how ‘perfect’ your life had been. to a normal person, this would’ve been a regular occurrence but for you this was a horrible situation. was cook still attractive to you? yes. was he a massive dick? also yes. you started to think about how it would be if you fucked a drug dealer, how dirty it would be. not only would your family cease to speak to you, but it would be such a bad look for you. did it really matter though? technically, you were seeing dominic, but it wasn’t like you’ve never been unfaithful before. you’ve done plenty of things with plenty of guys while being in relationships all because you weren’t being satisfied at home. it would’ve been your little secret anyways, to fuck cook. you were notorious for making extremely bad decisions. you were going to see him again, and you would be getting exactly what you wanted.

some time had passed, and the party started to become old news. you never stopped thinking about cook though. you spent hours searching his name on google, instagram, facebook, snapchat, you name it, and he just wasn’t there. your only option was to get in touch with the host of the party, but they had their phone taken away for awhile for obvious reasons. when you did get in touch, they told you that they only knew one dealer from the group, and that dealer brought his friends with him. they offered to give you his number and you happily obliged. you immediately contacted the dealer and asked for cook. he asked for the reason and you told him you wanted to buy specifically from him. the dealer said okay and would set up a time for you and him to meet. when he asked for your name, you gave a fake name so cook wouldn’t cancel for any reason. after the conversation ended, you smiled excitedly at the thought of your redemption. this was your greatest masterplan yet.

you approached the car in the half empty car lot somewhere outside the city, heels clacking on the pavement. you had decided to wear a little disguise; a designer trench coat with some dark sunglasses. after all, you really weren’t supposed to be out here doing this. you walked up to the drivers side door and leaned down to look through the glass. cook rolled his window in confusion, and you took that moment to remove your sunglasses.

“thanks for meeting me” you say with a tone of faux innocence, knowing damn well this was his job, not some hangout you two planned together.

cooks’ jaw falls slightly in shock, but then he just chuckles.

“‘course it’s you again.”

you walk around to the passenger side and made yourself comfy in his car, even going as far as to pull down the passenger mirror and check your lipgloss.

“whatdya’ want, then” cook watches you, not fully believing you were just here for drugs.

“oh, you know, an apology.” you say as you used your fingernail to clean up the bit of gloss around your lips.

“and why’s that?”

“i’m sure you remember, you were rude to me the night of that party.”

“s’not rude, just didn’t wanna bang ‘ya.”

“why not? tell me why you wouldn’t fuck me?”

“you were clearly pissed, and i don’t shag girls like you.”

“girls like me?”

“just spoiled, petty, bratty. i don’t get on with those types of girls.”

his words were a slap to the face. it wasn’t the first time you heard someone call you those words but his words stung harder.

“well i don’t shag guys like you. guys who sell drugs for a living like an absolute loser in dishevelled cars, like what a joke.”

cook huffs out a laugh but it’s not because he finds you funny, you genuinely hit a nerve. cook never wanted to be a drug dealer, he was just doing this to survive.

“you think you can just sit up in ‘ere and chat shit about me and what i do to get around?” he was actually a little upset now, but it only fuelled you in a disgusting way.

“yeah, i do.”

“get the fuck out me car, mate.”

“i’m not your ‘mate’.”

“i’m not gonna say it again.”

you wouldn’t say it, but you were absolutely getting off on cook’s anger like the sick person you were.

“what if i don’t get out?”

cook was done. he reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out a handgun, aiming it right in your face. in one moment, your face went from smug to shocked. there was a click. he turned the safety off. you couldn’t even move, you were paralyzed in his passenger seat as you realized this could’ve been it, the end of your life at the hands of some drug dealer.

“get in the back, then” cook said, gun unmoving. he motioned with his head to the backseat of his car. you tried to speak but only a breath came out, a weird incoherent sound.

“don’t say nuffin’. get in the back now.”

you moved very slowly, crawling over the console into the backseats. cook waited until you were fully situated and then climbed over himself, gun still in his hand.

“d-don’t hurt me…i’m s-sorry..” you’re unable to control the shake in your voice, tears on the brink of your lower lash line.

“not gonna hurt you. just gonna teach you a lesson” he says gently but it still feels very condescending, rightfully so.

“get on your hands and knees for me.”

your heart dropped. somehow it was exactly what you wanted but it wasn’t at the same time. when you didn’t acknowledge his words, he pointed the gun in your face again, and that got you moving.

“good girl” he said under his breath as he watched you take off your coat, and position yourself so that you were facing the outside window and your ass was facing cook. you were wearing a black slip under your coat, nothing too sexy but obviously it was for easy access incase cook gave in. cook got up on his knees and lifted your slip over your ass, revealing a black lacy thong. you felt his hand smooth over one cheek before feeling a painful smack, earning a shriek from you. his digits pulled the lacy fabric down and used two hands to pull the two cheeks apart, inspecting your nakedness. your humiliation was beginning to turn you on. he removed one hand from your cheek and smacked your pussy, making you squeak and jump again. cook said nothing and continued to smack you, harder every time. then you heard a belt unbuckling and a zipper being pulled down, then a warm nudge at your dampening entrance. you whimpered at the thought of him impregnating you. then he pushed in, slow and steady, and you felt every inch of it. he groaned above you, and it was filthy. cook began moving at a fast pace, like he was ready to get this over with so he could kick you out of his car. he slammed into you with every thrust, burying himself to the hilt. you couldn’t keep the moans falling from your lips, he was just too good, and you almost already knew that. you hated how every guy you’ve hooked up with were so passive in the bedroom, never wanting to get rough with you or treat you differently even for one night. cook was different; he wasn’t making love to you—he was fucking you. and he was absolutely fed up with you. his pace made you gasp every time his cock plunged into you.

“f-feels so fucking good! cook-”

before you could finish speaking, cook leaned forward, pressing his abdomen into your back and wrapping his free hand around your mouth abruptly, his other hand pressing the gun to the side of your head. it made you gasp under his rough hand. his pace barely slowed down.

“not a fuckin’ word from you. you say another word and i’ll hurt you” cook says threateningly into your ear, pressing the tip of his gun harder into your skull with every word. you can only close your eyes and nod, warm tears sinking down your face onto his hand.

the only sounds being made were the sounds of aggressive skin slapping and the occasional whimper from you. cook kept quiet for the most part, not wanting to reveal how good you felt clenched around him even though his mouth was still near your ear. your nails dug into the faux leather of the seat as you felt your orgasm approaching. your mouth hung open with brows furrowed as it was building rapidly, hoping no loud sounds would come out incase cook made good on his word. with a few more thrusts, you came, shakily exhaling as quietly as you could. your aftershocks pulled cook’s orgasm closer as well, and his thrusts became sloppier. then he spoke again.

“turn ova’, needa see your face” cook said breathlessly, making you think he needed to see your face to finish.

he pulled back and you quickly flipped over, revealing your fucked out expression. cook was tightly fisting his cock as he used the headrest to pull himself forward, nearing your face. oh, he was going to finish on your face. he tipped his head back for a moment and made a sound that was a mix of a groan and a whimper. you opened your mouth as you waited for his cum but cook angrily told you to close it. you squeezed your eyes shut and suddenly felt a warm liquid shooting at your face, making your breath hitch. cook grabbed the top of your head with his big hand and brought your face closer to his leaking cock, painting your face with his release. he chuckled wickedly, watching you turn from a petty snob to a whimpering coward. this was unlike anything cook had ever done to a girl, but you pushed him to be like this and that was his reasoning, not that anyone would know about this. you opened your eyes when you felt cook was finished and caught a glimpse of your face through the window. you looked disgusting. mascara pooled around the bottom of your eyes, your hair was dishevelled, and you had a man’s cum all over your face. somehow, a part of you was still into it.

“you can go now” cook said, “you got what ‘ya wanted, now fuck off” cook said looking down as he frantically pulled his jeans up and re-buckled his belt.

you turned to open the side door and awkwardly stumbled out, quickly grabbing your trench coat and using it as a wipe for your face. cook moved to the front of the car again and handed you the sunglasses that you left on the dashboard. you put them on immediately to cover more of your face. then cook started his car and drove out of the parking lot, the exhaust blowing in your face as he left. you stood there, watching his car disappear, wondering what brought you to this point. you took a deep breath and called an uber home, returning back to your normal, cozy bubble but deep down secretly hoping you would cross paths with cook again.