Chapter 23

Twenty-Three

The world around me was unraveling, a slow, excruciating collapse that mirrored the chaos inside my head. My professors’ voices had become white noise, their lectures reduced to meaningless droning that I couldn’t bring myself to care about. The once-pristine notebooks I carried were now crammed with incoherent scribbles. Assignments piled up, and deadlines blurred into a single, suffocating haze.

Failing. I was failing at everything.

I’d been benched from hockey, my coach’s words still ringing in my ears. “Get your head on straight, Sinclair. You’re no good to the team like this.” I’d laughed at him—laughed—like it didn’t matter. Maybe it didn’t. Hockey felt meaningless without her. Everything did.

My teammates had stopped trying to talk to me. Even Liam.. especially Liam. I’d overheard the whispers, the judgmental stares from guys who’d once slapped my back after every goal. “He’s lost it,” they’d muttered. And maybe they were right. Maybe I had.

Every waking moment was consumed by Kira—by the need to find her, to have her back. I’d torn through her belongings, retraced her steps, and scoured every corner of her life that I could get my hands on. But no matter how hard I looked, she remained out of reach. An invisible thread connected us, pulling taut every time I thought of her, but it led nowhere.

I sank into the worn couch in my dorm, the silence around me deafening. Her scent had faded from the sweater I’d stolen, and I hated myself for noticing. My fingers brushed over the fabric, gripping it tightly as if it could anchor me. But it didn’t. Nothing did.

My thoughts drifted to that night , the memory sharp and unrelenting. She’d been the perfect storm—wanting me even as she didn’t fully trust me, her vulnerability and her love creating cracks in my defenses. Kira had been an unstoppable force, pulling me in no matter how much I fought against it. I didn’t want to care about her. I didn’t want to like her. So I convinced myself that if I used her, I could destroy the hold she had over me.

Warning: Graphic Non-consent

The party had been loud, a cacophony of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. I’d been watching her all night, my gaze locked on the way she moved, the way she avoided the crowd. She’d been so out of place, so vulnerable, and it had drawn me to her like a magnet.

She hadn’t smiled at anyone. Her eyes were guarded, but there was a flicker of hope every time they scanned the room. When our eyes met across the crowd, she’d looked away quickly, a blush creeping across her cheeks. I’d caught her sneaking glances at me throughout the night, her attraction impossible to hide.

When she’d tried to slip away unnoticed, I’d followed, my footsteps silent as I trailed her through the dimly lit halls. She hadn’t seen me, not until I called her name softly, my voice barely audible over the muffled bass of the music.

She’d paused, turning to face me, her expression a mix of uncertainty and something softer. “Owen?”

I’d stepped closer, keeping my movements deliberate and unthreatening. “Come with me.”

She hadn’t hesitated, though her hands fidgeted nervously at her sides. “Where?”

“Somewhere quiet.” My voice had been gentle, coaxing, as I held out a hand. She’d stared at it for a moment before placing hers in mine. It was trembling, but she didn’t pull away.

The room I led her to was already prepared. The ropes, the blindfold, the gag—I’d set it all up earlier, planned every detail. It was sick. I knew that. But I couldn’t stop myself.

When we’d stepped inside, she’d glanced around, her brow furrowing slightly. “Why are we here?”

I’d turned to her, closing the door behind us. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her breath had hitched, her lips parting slightly. She’d looked at me like she didn’t believe what she was hearing, like she couldn’t possibly be the center of my world. But she had wanted to believe it. I’d seen it in her eyes.

“I don’t trust you,” she’d whispered, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to,” I replied, stepping closer to her. “Just let me show you.”

There was something about the way Kira's breath hitched when I touched her that got under my skin. She was so responsive, so damn beautiful with her wide dark eyes and her body trembling beneath my hands. I traced my fingers down her arms, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. I leaned in, my lips grazing her ear. "Trust me," I whispered, and for a moment, I almost believed I deserved that trust.

I took my time undressing her, savoring each new inch of skin revealed to me. She wasn't fighting me, but her nervousness was palpable. It was a heady feeling, knowing I had this power over her. I guided her into the position I'd prepared, bending her legs just so, wrapping the rope around her thighs and ankles with practiced ease. I made sure the ties were secure but not too tight—she had to be comfortable, after all. Her hands followed, bound to her thighs, rendering her completely at my mercy.

She was exquisite like this, bound and vulnerable, her body displayed for me alone. I couldn't resist teasing her a little, running my fingers along the inside of her thigh before I attached the vibrator. She jumped, a gasp escaping her as it sprung to life against her. I couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, at the unmistakable evidence of her arousal. She was wet, soaked for me, and I hadn't even really started yet.

The ring gag was next, stretching her mouth open, ready for me. I leaned in, my tongue delving into her mouth, exploring, claiming. She tasted sweet, with a hint of something darker, something that matched the twisted need inside me. I reached over, grabbing the blindfold, and in one swift movement, I plunged her into darkness.

With her sight taken away, all her other senses would be heightened. She'd feel everything more intensely, and I was the one who got to control that. The thought sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through me. I didn't want to like Kira. I just wanted to get her out of my system, to use her and move on. But here I was, pretending to care, to make her feel safe, all so she'd let me do these things to her.

I stepped back, admiring my handiwork. She was a sight to behold, bound and blindfolded, the vibrator humming against her, her body already starting to squirm. I could see the conflict in her, the way she was fighting her own responses, but it was a battle she was destined to lose. And I was going to make sure of that.

I didn't even bother stripping down. I just unzipped my jeans, freed my cock, and there it was—her mouth, open and ready for me, courtesy of the ring gag. I watched her, her cheeks flushed, blindfolded, and desperate. The vibrator did its job, making her moan and gasp around my shaft the moment I pushed inside.

Gods, she was something else, arching into the sensation, her body betraying her as she sucked in rhythm with the pulsing toy. I wrapped her braids around my fist, tugging just enough to tilt her head back, and then I drove deep, pressing her face against my groin. She gagged, and I felt her throat constrict around the head of my cock, an exquisite sensation that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my balls.

She could take me, all of me. I marveled at it, at her. The sounds she made, the way she struggled to breathe, to adjust—it was intoxicating. I didn't just want her mouth; I wanted to consume her, to possess every inch of her. And as her orgasm hit, her body shaking, her screams muffled by my cock buried in her throat, I held her there, feeling her convulse around me.

I lost track of how many times she came. Her cheeks were flushed, tears rolling down from under the blindfold, and her hands—those delicate, bound hands—clawed at her thighs, desperate for release. But I wasn't about to let her go. Not now, not ever. She was mine, and I'd make sure she knew it, every second of every day.

My thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding. I could feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, my balls tightening. "You like that, don't you, you little slut?" I murmured, my voice barely more than a growl. "You love having my cock in your mouth, making you choke, making you come over and over again."

She moaned in response, her body quivering, and I knew I was close. I gripped her braids tighter, using them to guide her movements, to control her completely. And when I finally came, it was with a harsh groan, my hips jerking as I emptied myself down her throat. She swallowed convulsively, her body still trembling from the remnants of her own pleasure.

I pulled back, my cock slipping from her swollen lips with a wet sound. The remains of my cum spilling from her open mouth to fall onto her chest. I gazed down at her, flushed and panting. She was a mess, and I'd made her that way.

I should've felt satisfied. I'd just fucked her mouth like it was my right, and she'd taken it, every damn inch of me. But as I watched her, still bound and helpless, a new wave of fury washed over me. The fucking vibrator was doing its job too well, and her hips were moving in these desperate, little circles, trying to get more friction, more of anything that would send her over the edge again. Her loud moans, seemingly amplified by the gag forcing her lips open, were driving me insane.

She was supposed to be a one-time thing, a way to prove to myself that I could have her and then discard her like all the others. But every time I looked at her, every time I heard those needy sounds she made, it was like she was digging her claws deeper into me. I was obsessed, and I hated it.

In a fit of rage, I pulled out the earbuds I'd stashed in my pocket and jammed them into her ears. She flinched and gasped, but there was no escape. I used her thumb to unlock her phone, pairing it with the earbuds, and then I cranked up the volume until her music was blasting, drowning out everything else—including the sounds of her own pleasure and the voices of the partygoers just outside the door.

I stood there for a moment, watching her struggle against the sensory overload, her body writhing in a way that was all kinds of fucked up. It was wrong to enjoy it, but I did. I fucking did.

Leaving her there, I stepped out into the hall and beckoned to the group of drunken frat guys who'd been eyeing us with a mix of curiosity and envy. "She's all yours," I said, my voice thick with anger.

They didn't need any more encouragement. They piled into the room, their eyes hungry as they took in the sight of Kira, bound, gagged, and unable to hear a thing. They were animals, each one eager to take his turn with her mouth. And I watched, damning myself with every passing second.

I told myself this would be the end of it, that seeing her used by these mindless drones would cure me of whatever sickness I had for her. But it didn't work. If anything, it made things worse. The more they took from her, the more fucked I felt. She was mine, and watching them with her only fueled the fire raging inside me.

I didn't stay long. I couldn't. The sight of her, the sounds she was making—it was too much. I turned on my heel and left the room, the sounds of her music, the grunts of those assholes, and the moans of her release as they cheered faded behind me as I made my way through the crowd.

I needed air. I needed to clear my head, to get as far away from Kira as possible. I'd thought that having her, breaking her, would be enough to exorcise her from my system. But it was becoming painfully clear that it would take a lot more than that.

Now, sitting alone in my dorm, the memory made my stomach churn. I’d crossed a line that night, a line I could never uncross. And yet, some part of me still believed it had been necessary.

I leaned forward, burying my face in my hands. “Where are you, Kira?” I whispered, my voice breaking. The question hung in the air, unanswered, a cruel reminder of how far she’d slipped from my grasp.

My phone buzzed on the table, and I grabbed it, hope surging through me. But it wasn’t her. It was my coach, another reminder of how far I’d fallen. I didn’t answer, letting the call go to voicemail. What was the point? Hockey didn’t matter anymore. Classes didn’t matter. Nothing mattered without her.

I stood abruptly, the motion sending the notebook on my lap tumbling to the floor. I paced the room, my thoughts spiraling. She was out there somewhere, and I couldn’t reach her. Every second that passed felt like another brick in the wall separating us, and I was suffocating under its weight.

But I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t. Kira was mine. She’d always been mine. And no matter what it took, I’d find her. I’d make her see that we belonged together. That she needed me as much as I needed her.

I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door, the cold air hitting me like a slap as I stepped outside. The campus was quiet, the night stretching endlessly before me. My breath formed clouds in the air as I walked, each step a silent vow.

I’ll find you, Kira. I swear it.