Chapter 145

Chapter 145
Alison’s POV

The door to Fig’s office slams shut, like the sound of a gunshot in the suffocating silence, trapping me in this dimly lit cage with him.

My cheek throbs, blood crusting from Rita’s nails, my blazer torn, my skirt damp with quad slush, but my body hums, alive with rage and defiance.

Fig’s eyes burn into me, dark and furious,his disappointment a weight I feel but refuse to carry.

The walk here—his growling “My office, now”, his hand grazing my arm, electric and threatening—has my heart pounding, my pussy tingling, a twisted mix of anger and desire I hate myself for.

Crew’s rejection—“I love Lily, not you!”—still bleeds in my chest, Rita’s fight a fresh wound, but Fig’s judgment, his claim on me, is a chain I’m ready to snap.

He thinks he owns me, our secret fucks—his cock in me, my moans in his car—a leash, but I’m no one’s pet, not his, not anyone’s.

Ever.

He steps closer, his desk between us, his voice is low. “What the fuck were you thinking, Alison?” His eyes blaze, raking over me—my bloodied cheek, my torn clothes—a mix of disgust and hunger that makes my skin crawl and burn.

“Fighting like a street rat, bleeding for that boy, Crew, when you’re…” He stops, his jaw clenching, his hands gripping the desk, knuckles white. “You’re better than this, throwing yourself at him, humiliating yourself over Lily’s boyfriend.”

Her name—Lily—spits from his lips, makes my fury ignite, her soft, weak love for Crew a wound I’m clawing open.

I laugh, sharp, mocking, stepping forward, my hips swaying, my voice laced with anger.

“Don’t you dare lecture me, Fig,” I hissed, my eyes locked on him. “You don’t get to tell me who I fight for, who I want. Crew’s mine—always was, always will be. Not your call.”

My words are a slap, my rage a fire to his disapproval, a joke.

“You’re just pissed that I’m not on my knees for you, begging for your cock like some pathetic toy.” I lean in, my tits brushing the desk, my words hitting him, my smirk daring him to break, my pussy throbbing, the power of this fight is like a seductive drug.

His face darkens, his eyes narrowing, a dangerous glint that sends a shiver through me, fear and thrill colliding.

“You used me,” he snarls, his voice rough, stepping around the desk, closing the gap, his body radiating heat, his rage a mirror to mine. “You fucked me, moaned for me, came for me, while you chased that boy, stringing me along like I’m nothing.”

His words cut, his pain a shock I didn’t expect, but I hold my ground, my chin high, my eyes blazing, refusing to flinch. “I won’t accept it, Alison,” he growls, his voice low, angry. “You’re mine, not his, and I’ll fucking prove it.”

Suddenly he charges, a blur of fury, his hands grabbing my arms, slamming me against the wall, the impact jarring, pain flaring in my bruised ribs, my gasp sharp.

“Get off!” I scream, my nails clawing his wrists, my body thrashing, but he’s stronger, his grip like iron, his eyes wild, possessed. “You don’t own me!” I spit, my voice rough, my heart pounding, fear spiking but desire surging, a twisted betrayal of my own will. His body presses against mine, his cock hard through his pants, his breath hot on my neck, and I’m trembling, my pussy wet, my rage and need a chaotic storm.

“You want Crew?” he hisses, his lips grazing my ear, his voice a dark promise. “Let’s see if he’d want you after this.” His hand rips my blazer open, buttons scattering, his fingers tearing at my shirt, exposing my bra, my tits heaving, and I’m fighting, my fists pounding his chest, my screams muffled by his mouth crashing into mine, his tongue forceful, claiming.

I bite his lip, tasting blood, but he groans, his hand sliding under my skirt, ripping my panties, his fingers finding my pussy, wet despite my rage, a betrayal I can’t stop. “You’re still fucking. You're mine,” he growls, his voice a roar, his fingers thrusting, my moan escaping, my body arching, hating him, wanting him, losing myself.

“Fuck you!” I choke, my voice breaking, tears burning my eyes, my hands clawing his back, my resolve fracturing.

He unzips, his cock free, hard, and I’m shaking, as my legs are lifted, my back against the wall, his thrust sudden, deep, sending a shock of pain and pleasure that rips a cry from me.

He fucks me, hard, relentless, his hands gripping my ass, his eyes locked on mine, his rage a fire consuming us both. “Say you’re mine,” he demands, his voice rough, his thrusts punishing, my pussy clenching, my moans betraying me, my heart screaming for Crew, for anything but this.

“Never,” I gasp, my voice defiant, my tears falling, my body yielding, my climax building, a wave I can’t fight. He growls, his pace fast and brutal, his hand on my throat, not choking but claiming, his cock driving and hitting my pussy hard as he sucked my boobs, my scream stifled as I come, my body shaking, my vision blurring, his release hot, filling me, a mark I can’t erase.

He pulls back, his breath ragged, his eyes dark, triumphant, and I’m trembling, my body used, my heart a bleeding wound, my rage a fire rekindling.

I slide down the wall, my skirt torn, my shirt ruined, my pussy aching, my tears streaming. “I hate you,” I whisper, my voice choking, my eyes meeting his, defiant despite my defeat.

“You’re nothing to me. Crew’s everything.” My words are a vow, my love for Crew—his rejection, his love for Lily—a fire I’ll chase, Fig’s claim a chain I’ll break.

He steps back, his face a storm, his voice low. “You’ll regret that, Alison.”

His threat chills me, but I’m unbowed, my body bruised, my heart fierce. I stand, fixing my skirt, my eyes blazing.

“Come for me next time again.” Fig says with a smirk on his face as I walk away. I can't even look him in the eyes.

Crew’s tutoring is my chance, my lips on his neck, my hand on his cock, his heart mine. Fig’s nothing, his fuck a mistake, his power a lie. I’m Alison Blake, a storm, untouchable, and I’ll have Crew, no matter the cost, no matter the blood, no matter Fig’s rage.

As for Fig. I'll deal with him in a way he will never forget.

His time is up already.