CHAPTER 1 AVA'S POV My name is Ava and I'm already fucked in the head. It's barely ten in the morning and I'm sitting in a half-empty lecture hall trying to focus on the professor, but all I can think about is the way Ryan's cock felt in my hand last night. Thick. Heavy. The vein that runs along the underside that I like to press my tongue against when I take him into my mouth. I can still remember the exact weight of it on my palm, the way it twitched when I squeezed, the low sound he made when I leaned down and licked the tip. Lisa's boyfriend. I'm a terrible friend. The worst kind. I shift in my seat and cross my legs tighter. I'm wet again. It's becoming a problem. Every time someone says his name, every time I see one of his stupid hoodies draped over Lisa's chair, every time I catch the faint smell of his cologne on her clothes, my pussy throbs like it has a memory of its own. I woke up this morning already aching. I had to press my face into the pillow and slide my hand between my legs before I even got out of bed, biting down hard so my roommate wouldn't hear. It didn't help much. It never does. Not when the real thing is walking around campus somewhere, probably texting Lisa sweet things while still thinking about how I let him come down my throat last night. The professor's voice drones on about something I should care about. I force myself to type a few notes, but the words blur. All I can see is Ryan's hand in my hair. All I can feel is the ghost of his cock stretching me open. I squeeze my thighs together until it almost hurts and try to breathe through it. Class ends eventually. People start packing up around me. I stay seated a few extra seconds, waiting for the worst of the ache to settle, then stuff my laptop into my bag and stand. My panties are already damp. I can feel it when I walk. I head toward the campus café where I work part-time. Two hours on the register. Smile at customers. Pretend I'm a normal girl who doesn't let her best friend's boyfriend bend her over in empty rooms and use her like a toy. Pretend I don't think about her father just as much. Marcus. Even his name sends a different kind of heat through me. Older. Heavier. The way he looked at me last week when I was at their house, eyes dark, like he already knew what I sounded like when I came. He hasn't touched me. Not yet. But the tension is there every time we're in the same room, thick enough to choke on. Sometimes I think about what would happen if he ever did. Sometimes those thoughts get mixed up with Ryan until I can't tell which one I'm dripping for anymore. I clock in, tie my apron, and start my shift. The café is busy enough to keep my hands occupied but not busy enough to stop my mind from wandering. Every time the bell over the door rings, some stupid part of me hopes it's Ryan. Every time it isn't, I feel both relieved and disappointed. I'm restocking the napkin holder near the back when a hand grabs my wrist. Hard. I don't even have to look. Ryan drags me past the counter, down the short hallway, and into the storage room. The door shuts. The lock clicks. The sudden quiet is loud in my ears. "You're late," he mutters, already pushing me back against the shelves. "I had class." "Don't care." His mouth is on mine before I can say anything else - rough, demanding, tasting like mint and something darker. His hand shoves under my skirt and goes straight between my legs like he owns that part of me. He groans when he feels how wet I am. "Jesus, Ava. You're dripping." "Shut up." He laughs against my mouth, low and mean, and yanks my panties to the side. Two fingers push inside me without warning. I bite his shoulder to keep quiet, forehead pressed against his collarbone. He's not gentle. He never is. His fingers curl and drag against that spot inside me that makes my knees weak. "Missed this tight little cunt," he says, voice rough. "Been thinking about it all morning. Almost fucked Lisa just to take the edge off, but it wouldn't have been the same." The mention of her name sends a sick twist through my stomach. It only makes me wetter. I hate myself for it. I hate how hard my pussy squeezes his fingers at the reminder of what we're doing to her. He pulls his fingers out, spins me around, and bends me over the stock shelf. Bottles rattle. I plant my hands on the wood and spread my legs without being told. I hear his zipper. Then the thick head of his cock is rubbing between my pussy lips, spreading my wetness around, teasing my clit with every pass. "Anyone could walk in," I whisper. "Then you better come quick." He shoves inside me in one hard thrust. I choke on a moan. He's big - thicker than he has any right to be - and he doesn't give me time to adjust. He just starts fucking me, deep and steady, one hand on my hip, the other covering my mouth. The shelves shake with every thrust. My eyes are open but I'm not seeing the boxes of coffee syrup or the stacked paper cups. I'm thinking about another cock. Older. Heavier. The way Marcus's hands looked last week when he braced himself on the kitchen counter. The way his voice dropped when he said my name. I shouldn't be thinking about Lisa's father while her boyfriend is balls-deep in me. But I am. Ryan's hand tightens over my mouth as he thrusts harder. The wet sound of his cock driving into me fills the small room. My panties are stretched around one thigh. My skirt is shoved up to my waist. I look exactly like what I am - a dirty secret, bent over and taking it. "Fuck, you're squeezing me," he groans. "You close already?" I nod frantically. I'm past close. The mix of shame and heat is too much. My orgasm hits hard, ripping through me with almost no warning. I come with a broken sound against his palm, legs shaking, pussy clenching around him in messy, desperate pulses. It feels so good it almost hurts. He follows a few seconds later, burying himself as deep as he can and flooding me. I feel every spurt. Feel the heat of it. Feel it start to leak out around his cock when he finally stills, breathing hard against my back. For a moment neither of us moves. Then he pulls out slowly. I can feel the mess dripping down my thigh already. He turns me around, looks between my legs at the cum leaking out of me, and smirks like he's proud of it. "Don't clean up," he says. "I want you walking around campus like that. Every step. I want you to feel it." I fix my skirt with shaking hands. My panties are useless now, just a damp scrap of fabric I pull back into place because I have no other choice. Ryan kisses me once, quick and filthy, biting my bottom lip before he pulls away. "Same time tomorrow?" I should say no. I should end this before it gets even uglier than it already is. I say, "Yeah." He unlocks the door and leaves first. I wait thirty seconds, trying to slow my breathing, then step out like nothing happened. There's a slow drip of him running down my thigh with every step I take. I can feel it sliding toward the back of my knee. It makes my face burn and my pussy throb all over again. I go back to the counter and smile at the next customer like I'm a normal girl. Like I didn't just let my best friend's boyfriend come inside me in a storage room. Like I'm not already wondering what Marcus would think if he knew. My phone vibrates in my pocket. A message from Lisa. **Hey, you free later? Need to talk.** I stare at the screen, still throbbing, still full of her boyfriend's cum, thighs sticky, heart beating too fast. For a second I almost feel sick with guilt. Then the heat rolls back in, low and shameless, and I type back with steady fingers: **Yeah. Meet you after my shift.** I put the phone away and press my thighs together, feeling the mess between them shift. Tonight's going to be a problem. I can already feel it.

CHAPTER 2 AVA'S POV I meet Lisa near the campus gate after my shift. She's already waiting with two iced coffees, one in each hand, phone tucked under her arm. When she sees me her whole face lights up, like I'm actually someone worth being happy about. The smile is real. Warm. It makes my stomach twist so hard I almost look away. I'm still walking around with her boyfriend's cum dried on my thighs, the sticky reminder of what I let him do to me in that storage room, and all she's doing is smiling at me like a good friend. "There you are," she says, holding my coffee out. "Extra ice, just how you like it. I had them add a bit of vanilla too." I take it. The cup is sweating in my hand. "Thanks." We start walking with no real destination, just the usual slow loop we always take when we need to talk. Lisa launches into her day - a boring lecture where the professor droned on for an hour, group project drama with a girl who still hasn't done her part, how she's already sick of the semester and wants to drop half her classes. Normal shit. Sweet shit. The kind of easy conversation we've had a hundred times. I'm only half listening. Every step I take makes me feel the sticky mess Ryan left between my legs. I had pressed my thighs together in the storage room afterward, trying to keep it from running down, but some of it still dried in a thin film on my skin. I can feel it pull slightly when I walk. The sensation is filthy. It makes me wet all over again, a fresh pulse of heat that soaks into my already ruined panties. I shift my weight and pretend I'm just adjusting my bag. I am such a fucking slut. Lisa glances at me after a few minutes, eyes narrowing the way they always do when she can tell something's wrong. "You've been quiet. Quieter than usual. Is it your mum?" I shrug and take a sip of the coffee to buy myself a second. "She got bad last night. Came home already drunk. Broke a plate, then a glass. Started screaming at nothing. I locked myself in my room until she passed out." Lisa's expression softens immediately. No judgment. No awkward pity. Just real worry. She stops walking so she can look at me properly. "You're staying at mine tonight," she says. "I'm not asking." "Lisa-" "No." Her voice is firm but gentle. "Ryan's taking me out later. Dinner and drinks. He's been trying lately, so I said yes. We'll be gone for hours. The house will be empty. You already have the key. Just go over, shower, eat whatever you want, sleep in my bed if it makes you feel better. I don't want you going back there when she's like this." I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste metal. The second she said "the house will be empty," my mind went straight to Marcus. His hands. The way he looks at me across the room like he already knows I'd drop to my knees if he told me to. The low voice. The size of him. My pussy clenches around nothing just from the thought, and I feel a fresh pulse of wetness mix with what Ryan left inside me earlier. I'm standing here with my best friend while her boyfriend's cum is still smeared on my thighs, getting turned on by the idea of her dad. The guilt is sharp, but the heat is stronger. "My dad's been working late all week," Lisa continues, already planning it out in her head like she always does when she's trying to take care of me. "He's probably not even going to be home. You'll have the place to yourself. You can even stay the whole weekend if you need to. I don't mind." The words go straight to my cunt. "Okay," I say, trying to sound normal, like my heart isn't beating in my pussy. "Yeah. I'll stay." She looks so relieved it almost makes me feel sick. Almost. The other part of me - the worse part - is already thinking about walking into that house, hoping Marcus is there, hoping he can smell the sex on me the second I step through the door. Hoping he does something about it. Lisa pulls me into a hug without warning. She smells clean and sweet, like the vanilla lotion she's used since we were sixteen. I stand there stiffly for a second before hugging her back, the coffee still in one hand. I wonder if she can smell me - the faint sweat, the sex, the way I'm already soaked again just from standing this close to the idea of her father. The thought makes my nipples tighten against my bra. "Text me when you get there, okay?" she says when she pulls back. Her hands stay on my shoulders for a second. "And eat something. You look like you haven't all day. There's leftover pasta in the fridge. Just heat it up." "I will." She squeezes my hand one more time, then checks her phone and makes a face. "I have to go meet Ryan. He's picking me up in twenty." She gives me another quick smile, the soft one that used to make me feel safe, and heads off toward the parking lot. I watch her go, smiling and waving like the good friend she thinks I am. The second she's out of sight, I step to the side of the path, slip my hand between my thighs, and press two fingers against my pussy through my skirt. Right there on the sidewalk. Just for a second. Just to feel how wet I am. The pressure makes my breath catch. I'm swollen and slick and disgusting. I am so fucking wet. I start walking toward her house with the spare key already in my hand, heart beating too fast, thighs rubbing together with every step. My mind is full of every filthy thing I want her father to do to me. I think about him pushing me to my knees in the hallway. I think about him bending me over the same kitchen counter Lisa and I have eaten at a hundred times. I think about how much thicker he might be than Ryan, and the thought alone makes my pussy throb hard enough that I have to slow down and breathe through it. By the time I reach their street, the sun is starting to drop and I'm aching. My panties are a mess. I haven't even gone inside yet and I'm already soaked again. I unlock the front door and step inside. The house is quiet. Too quiet. I close the door behind me and stand still in the hallway, listening, the key still digging into my palm. Then I hear it - a soft creak from deeper inside the house. A cupboard. Or a footstep. Someone is home. And I already know I'm not leaving.

CHAPTER 3 AVA'S POV I unlock the front door and step inside. The house is quiet at first. The kind of quiet that makes my ears ring. I close the door softly behind me and just stand there in the hallway with the spare key still digging into my palm, listening. For a second I almost believe Lisa was right and the place is empty. Then I hear it - a cupboard closing in the kitchen, followed by the low clink of a mug being set down on the counter. Marcus is home. My stomach drops and tightens at the same time. Heat flashes low in my belly so fast it almost makes me dizzy. Lisa said he wouldn't be here. She looked me in the eye and told me the house would be empty. Part of me is glad she was wrong. I walk toward the kitchen trying to look normal, like I'm just her best friend using the spare key after a long day, not the girl who still has her boyfriend's cum dried in a thin film on her inner thighs. My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my throat. Every step makes me aware of how sticky I still am between my legs. Marcus is standing at the counter with his back mostly to me, pouring coffee like it's any other evening. He's wearing a black T-shirt that stretches across his shoulders and grey sweatpants that sit low on his hips. He looks bigger than he does in my head. He always does. When he hears my footsteps he glances over his shoulder. "Ava." Just my name. Calm. Like he expected me. "Hey," I say, and I'm proud of how steady my voice sounds. "Lisa said I could stay tonight. She thought you wouldn't be home." He turns fully around, leaning back against the counter with the mug in his hand. His eyes move over me once - not obvious, but slow enough that I feel it. Face. Chest. The short skirt I never changed out of. My bare legs. I have the sudden, humiliating thought that he might be able to tell I'm still messy from earlier. "She was wrong," he says simply. "You staying anyway?" "Yeah. If that's okay." "It's fine." He nods toward the stairs. "Guest room's clean. Or just use Lisa's. She won't mind." I shift my weight from one foot to the other. The dried cum on my thighs pulls slightly when I move. I need to get out of these clothes. I need to shower before I do something stupid like push this further right here in the kitchen. "I'm gonna use Lisa's shower," I tell him, already taking a step back. "Change. I've been running around all day." Marcus watches me for a second longer than necessary, eyes dark and unreadable, then gives a small nod. "Alright." I turn and head for the stairs before I can stare at him too long. My legs feel unsteady. Every step up makes the sticky mess between my thighs shift, a filthy reminder of Ryan that only makes me think about Marcus harder. By the time I reach the top I'm breathing too fast. Lisa's room looks exactly the same as always - neat bed with the soft blue bedspread, desk still covered in her binders, the faint sweet smell of her vanilla lotion hanging in the air. I go straight into her bathroom and lock the door even though I know the lock doesn't mean much. I strip quickly. Blouse. Skirt. Bra. The panties are a lost cause - damp and ruined - so I ball them up and shove them to the bottom of my bag. When I look down at myself I can still see faint sticky traces on my inner thighs. I step under the hot water and finally breathe. I mean to shower fast. Instead I stand there longer than I should, hands braced on the tiles, letting the water run down my body while my mind stays downstairs with him. My fingers slide between my legs almost on their own. I'm still swollen and sensitive from Ryan. The second I brush my clit I have to bite my lip to stay quiet. I could make myself come right here if I wanted to. It wouldn't take long. I force my hand away, finish washing, and turn off the water before I do something even more pathetic. I dry off with one of Lisa's towels. That's when I realize what I actually brought: one clean pair of panties and an old oversized T-shirt of hers I've been keeping in my bag for nights like this. No shorts. No pants. The T-shirt is light grey and soft from too many washes. When I pull it on, it only comes down to the middle of my thighs. My wet hair drips onto my shoulders and makes the fabric cling to my chest and stomach. My nipples are still hard from the mix of cool air and leftover adrenaline. The shirt does nothing to hide them. I look at myself in the mirror. Flushed face. Damp skin. Hard nipples pressing against the thin cotton. Bare legs. I look like I just got fucked. Or like I'm about to be. I unlock the bathroom door and step back into Lisa's bedroom- Marcus is sitting on the edge of the bed. I freeze. He's leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped, like he's been waiting the whole time. His eyes go straight to me - wet hair dripping down my back, the way the T-shirt sticks to my body, my bare thighs, the fact that there's clearly nothing underneath. Neither of us speaks. Water runs from the ends of my hair, down my collarbone, and under the neckline of the shirt. My heart is slamming so hard I can feel it in my teeth. I'm suddenly very aware that I'm not wearing a bra and that the shirt is thin enough for him to see the exact shape of my nipples. I'm also aware that if I move wrong, he'll see everything else too. Marcus's eyes move slowly down my body and back up to my face. He doesn't look away. He doesn't pretend he's not looking. And I don't move. I just stand there in the doorway of my best friend's room, dripping wet, barely dressed, already aching between my legs, waiting to see what he's going to do about it.