23. Addison

23

Addison

I sat on my bed, my mind reeling from Michael's intense declaration of love before he left to prepare for his hockey game. His words echoed in my head, a dizzying mix of passion and possession.

I knew he was crazy, consumed by an all-encompassing need to have me, to control me. The red flags were glaring, warning signs flashing in neon. His behavior was unhealthy, bordering on obsessive. Any sane person would run, put as much distance between themselves and this kind of toxic infatuation as possible.

But... a part of me liked it. Craved it, even.

There was a dark, twisted corner of my soul that was drawn to Michael's intensity, to the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in his world. It was thrilling, intoxicating, to be the sole focus of someone's desire, even if that desire was tinged with something dangerous.

He was right about me. As much as I tried to deny it, to push it down and pretend it didn't exist, there was a shadow inside me that responded to Michael's darkness. It recognized a kindred spirit, a shared brokenness that pulled us together like two jagged pieces of a puzzle.

I knew it was wrong, knew that giving in to this attraction would likely end in disaster. But in that moment, alone in my room with Michael's love still ringing in my ears, I couldn't find the strength to resist. The temptation was too strong, the allure of being truly seen, truly wanted, too powerful to ignore.

I closed my eyes, letting the conflicting emotions wash over me. Fear and excitement, guilt and longing, all tangled together in a knot I couldn't begin to unravel. I was standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering between reason and recklessness.

And deep down, in that dark place I tried so hard to keep hidden, I knew which way I was leaning.

I got up from my bed, my mind still swirling with thoughts of Michael and his intense declaration. I needed to clear my head, to wash away the confusion and conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

Among other things.

I walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the steam fill the small space. As I stepped under the hot spray, I closed my eyes, letting the water cascade over my face and body.

The warmth was soothing, the steady beat of the droplets against my skin a calming rhythm. I stood there for a long moment, just breathing, trying to center myself amidst the chaos of my thoughts.

I reached for the shampoo, lathering it into my hair with slow, deliberate movements. The familiar scent of lavender filled my nostrils, a small comfort in the midst of my inner turmoil.

As I rinsed the suds away, I couldn't help but think of Michael's hands on me, the way his touch had set my body on fire. The memory sent a shiver down my spine, a flicker of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the image. I needed to focus, to think rationally about the situation I found myself in. But rational thought seemed to evaporate like the steam around me whenever he entered my mind.

After I put in the conditioner, I reached for the body wash, squeezing a generous amount onto my loofa. I scrubbed my skin, as if I could somehow wash away the confusion and desire that clung to me like a second skin.

But even as I tried to cleanse myself of the feelings he stirred in me, I knew it was futile. He had gotten under my skin, burrowed into my heart and mind in a way that no amount of soap and water could erase.

I turned off the shower, stepping out onto the plush bath mat. I wrapped a towel around my body, the soft fabric a poor substitute for the heat of his embrace.

I stared at my reflection in the foggy mirror, barely recognizing the girl who looked back at me. My eyes were wide, pupils dilated with a mix of fear and longing. My cheeks were flushed, my lips slightly parted as if waiting for a kiss that would never come.

I was a mess, a jumble of contradictions and conflicting desires. And as much as I wanted to pretend otherwise, I knew Michael was the only one who could untangle the knots inside me, for better or for worse.

I stepped out of the bathroom, my skin still damp from the shower and my mind still swirling with thoughts of him. I walked to my closet, intending to find Eren's jersey to wear to the hockey game, like he wanted me to. I rummaged through hangers and drawers, searching for the familiar green and white fabric, but it was nowhere to be found.

Frowning, I turned around, ready to check another part of my room, when I froze. There, carefully laid out on my bed, was a hockey jersey. The green and white colors stood out starkly against my bedspread, impossible to miss.

My heart began to race as I approached the bed, my hand trembling slightly as I reached out to pick up the jersey. I held it up, the material soft and cool against my fingertips. Slowly, I turned it around, my breath catching in my throat as I saw the number and name emblazoned on the back.

24. CARTER.

Michael's jersey.

I stared at it, my mind reeling with questions. How had it gotten here? Had Michael left it for me? What did it mean? Had he been in here?

He had to have been.

That wasn't there when we…

I sank down onto the bed, clutching the jersey to my chest. The scent of him clung to the fabric, a heady mix of pine and musk that made my pulse quicken. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the aroma wash over me.

Wearing his jersey felt like a statement, a declaration of... something. Loyalty? Belonging? Possession? I wasn't sure, but the thought of walking into that hockey rink with his name on my back sent a thrill of excitement and trepidation through me.

I stood up, holding the jersey out in front of me. I hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to slip it on and the knowledge that doing so would cross a line I couldn't come back from.

But in the end, the temptation was too strong to resist. I pulled the jersey over my head; the fabric sliding smoothly against my skin. It was big on me; the hem falling to mid-thigh, but somehow it felt right. Like I was meant to wear it.

I looked at myself in the mirror, taking in the sight of his name and number on my body. It was a powerful image, one that spoke of a connection that went beyond mere friendship or attraction.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. I knew that wearing Michael's jersey would raise questions, invite speculation and gossip. But in that moment, I didn't care.

All that mattered was the feeling of his name against my skin, the knowledge that, in some small way, I belonged to him.

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the UNKNOWN number on my phone screen. I hesitated for a moment before answering, my voice barely above a whisper. "Hello?"

There was a pause, and then a low growl came through the speaker. "Fuck, you look so good in my jersey."

I felt a flush creep up my neck, my cheeks burning. "Shouldn't you be at Pandora's Box by now?"

"I want to watch you do something for me first," he said, his tone turning serious.

My pulse quickened, my breath catching in my throat. "What?"

"Go back on your bed," he ordered. "I want to watch you fuck yourself in nothing but my jersey. I want it to smell just like your pussy."

My core clenched at his words, at the demanding tone. Why did I want to obey him? Why did I like it, knowing he was somewhere watching me?

I walked back to my bed, my legs shaking slightly as I sat down on the edge. I could hear the sound of his breathing on the other end of the line, the low rumble of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Now, take off your panties and spread your legs for me."

I did as he asked, my heart pounding in my chest as I slid my panties down my legs and kicked them aside. I spread my legs, the cool air hitting my bare skin and making me shiver.

"That's it," he said, his voice low and husky. "Your pussy is still swollen from before. Fuck, so damn beautiful. Now, touch yourself. I want to hear you moan."

I reached down, my fingers brushing against my clit as I let out a soft moan. I could hear him breathing harder on the other end of the line, the sound of his arousal sending a thrill through me.

"Fuck, Addison," he growled. "You're so goddamn sexy. I can't wait to taste you again."

I closed my eyes, letting the sound of his voice wash over me as I continued to touch myself. I could feel the tension building inside me, my body responding to his commands as if it was programmed to do so.

"Fuck," he whispered, the sound of his voice heating my skin. "I need to see you come for me. Fuck yourself harder, Addison. Show me how much you want me. Stick a finger up your pussy and pull it out. I want to see how wet you are."

I obeyed, my core clenching at his intense instructions. I slipped a finger inside myself, groaning as I felt the warmth and wetness. I pulled my finger out; the lubrication glistening in the light.

"Fuck yes, that's it," he growled, his own breathing becoming more erratic. "Now, taste yourself. Stick that finger in your mouth."

I followed his command, hesitantly bringing my finger to my lips. The taste of my arousal flooded my senses, making my stomach flutter and my breasts grow heavier.

"Oh, yes, Addison, you're so good," he praised, his voice filled with desire. "Now, tell me how much you want me to come over and fuck you. Tell me how much you want me inside you."

My face burned with embarrassment and arousal, but I found myself unable to resist his command. "I want you so bad," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I need you to come over and fuck me right now."

"Yes," he said. "After the game, I want you to tell Eren the same thing. How my dick is the only one you want." He moaned. "Now, show me how much my jersey gets you off."

I wrapped the edge of his jersey around my fingers, rubbing it against my clit as I watched my pleasure unfold before his eyes. I couldn't help but imagine him watching me, his desire growing with each passing moment.

"That's it, baby," he coaxed. "I can see it in your eyes, you want me so badly. I wish I could be there to touch you, to feel how wet you are for me."

A groan escaped my lips as my climax built, the tingling sensation between my legs becoming more intense.

"Stick two fingers in that juicy pussy," Michael said, his words harsh and demanding. "Imagine it's my dick, stretching you out, breaking you, making you bleed for me."

I didn't hesitate to obey, my fingers slipping inside myself easily, the wetness between my legs unseemly. The more I thought about him, the closer I came to orgasm.

"That's it, baby," he growled. "You're so fucking wet for me. I can almost taste it. Imagine my cock pounding you hard, filling you up."

I thrust my fingers in and out, imagining just that. My body shook with arousal, my heart pounding in my chest as I fought to hold back.

"Fuck, Addison. I need to see you come for me. Fuck yourself harder. Imagine it's me, my cock slamming into you, stretching you out."

I couldn't resist his command. I thrust harder, hips rocking faster as I rubbed my clit with one hand and fucking myself with the other. My moans grew louder, fueled by the intensity of the pleasure building within me.

"That's it, baby," he panted. "So fucking hot. You're going to make me come just listening to you. Fuck, I wish I could be there with you right now."

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. "You like being taken by me. Say it, baby. Tell me you want my cock."

My breath hitched in my throat as I murmured the words, feeling exposed and aroused. "I want your cock, Michael," I whispered, my voice shaky. "I want you to fuck me."

He groaned, his voice rough with lust. "You're such a fucking slut for my cock," he muttered, his voice heavy with desire. "You're soaked for me, Addison. Fuck."

The thought of him claiming me filled me with both fear and excitement. I knew that once he took me, there would be no going back. But the idea of being his, of belonging to someone in a way I had never felt before, was addicting.

I could hear my own breaths growing shallower and quicker, the orgasm I had been building for so long finally cresting. I couldn't hold back any longer.

"Fuck, Michael," I cried out, my voice hoarse with passion. "I'm going to come!"

"Yeah, baby, come for me," he urged, his voice low and gravelly. "Come all over that jersey. I want it soaked with your pussy juices."

With those words, I exploded. My body convulsed, my orgasm washing over me in waves of euphoria. I screamed his name, my face contorting with the intensity of the pleasure. My body shook violently as I rode the waves of ecstasy, each tremor bringing me closer to the edge.

"Fuck, yes," Michael panted into the phone. "Look at you, coming for me like that. I can see all of you. You're so fucking hot, Addison. Now, wear the jersey. I want you to smell like your pussy all night. Got it?"

I collapsed onto my bed, nodding, my breaths growing ragged as I tried to slow down my heart. My body was still shaking from the intensity of the orgasm, and I could feel the wetness between my legs dripping onto the sheets.

"I love you, Addison," he murmured. "Soon. I'll finally have you, and then nobody can take you from me again."

Before I could think about what he said, he hung up.